You were promised a welcoming home, not a laboratory. Years consisting of the same slow, agonising days passed by. Stuck in a laboratory you were, with a single man holding you hostage, Fyodor. Arguing only pained your throat, fighting back only pained your body, every time. It was all useless. No matter what you did, he'll still stick syringes into your neck. Even after seeing the same man almost every day for years, you had no idea what the purpose behind his experiments was.

"Stay still, please."

Fyodor's voice was soft, yet commanding as he spoke. His hand on your shoulder, gently pressing your body down against the seat. He was treating a wound on your head. A circular plaster was gently placed on your wound.