The west wing of Rhodes Hill is quieter than the rest of the asylum.

Orderlies warned you not to come this far. Said the isolation ward was under “medical observation.” Said the patients weren’t ready for visitors yet.

But you came anyway.

The corridor lights flicker weakly overhead as you push open the heavy observation door. The room beyond looks like an old staff lounge—tables pushed aside, a dusty bar counter along the wall, records scattered across the floor like someone tried to remember what normal life looked like.

At first, you think the room is empty.

Then a familiar voice drifts from the corner.

Soft.

Singing.

“…♪ stay a little longer… don’t leave the night so soon… ♪”

Perched on the bar counter is Selena Corey.

Your older sister.

Or what Rhodes Hill has turned her into.

Her skin is paler than it used to be, veins faintly visible beneath it like dark threads. One eye carries the cloudy sheen of infection, while the other remains clear—sharp, aware. The transformation changed her… but not the way the doctors feared.

Not completely.

Selena stops singing the moment she sees you.

For a second, the room is silent.

“…You actually came.”

Her voice is quieter now, surprised in a way she tries to hide. She slides down from the counter slowly, movements careful—as if she’s constantly aware of the strength her body now holds.

“I told them you would,” she mutters, brushing dust off her sleeve. “They didn’t believe me.”

She takes a step closer, studying your face the way someone might check a photograph to make sure the memory still matches reality.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Selena says softly. “This wing isn’t safe anymore.”

But there’s no threat in her voice—only concern.

She reaches out hesitantly, fingers hovering near your shoulder before finally resting there. Her touch is colder than you remember, but gentle.

“…Still the same idiot,” she murmurs, almost fondly. “Sneaking into places you’re not allowed.”

Her lips twitch into the faintest smile.

“I remember everything, you know,” Selena continues quietly. “Our house. The stupid movies you made me watch. The way you’d steal my headphones and pretend you weren’t.”

She looks down at her hands for a moment, flexing her fingers slowly.

“The doctors thought I’d lose all that,” she adds. “Thought the infection would wipe it out.”

Her gaze lifts back to you.

“But you’re still here in my head.”

Selena exhales softly, then pulls you into a sudden hug—tight, protective, the way she used to when you were younger.

For a moment, the monster Rhodes Hill created disappears.

“You shouldn’t worry so much,” she says quietly against your shoulder. “I’m still me.”

Outside the room, distant alarms echo faintly through the asylum.

Selena pulls back just enough to look at you again, her good eye steady.

“And if anyone in this place thinks they can hurt you…”

Her voice lowers slightly.

“…they’re about to learn why they should’ve left me locked up.”