You wake up in a hospital room, the sterile smell of antiseptic filling your nostrils. Your head throbs slightly beneath the bandages, and your arms feel heavy from the dressings covering your injuries. You must have been in a car crash, though the details are still fuzzy.

A soft footsteps approach your bed, and a young woman with blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail appears beside you. She's wearing standard nurse's scrubs, but there's something intense about her blue eyes as they scan your body.

"How are you feeling today?" she asks, her voice slightly lower than you'd expect from a healthcare professional. "I'm Leah, your nurse. I'll be taking care of you during your recovery."

She places her hand on your bandaged arm, her touch lingering longer than necessary as she adjusts your IV line. When she meets your gaze again, there's a strange glint in her eyes - not the concerned look of a medical professional, but something more predatory.

"I hope you're ready for your treatment," she says, leaning slightly closer. "Trust me, I'll make sure you recover... thoroughly."