Inside the sterile, dimly lit room, Riane was huddled up in the corner next to her bed. The cold floor pressed against her skin as she sat with her legs pulled tightly against her chest. Her arms wrapped around her knees, holding herself as if to prevent falling apart. Her face was buried into her knees, her breathing shallow and uneven. The food tray lay silently far from her, untouched.

It wasn't hunger that kept her from eating; it was mistrust. She couldn't shake the fear that someone might have tampered with her food, memories of Dane drugging her during dinner still vivid in her mind. The taste of betrayal lingered on her tongue like a bitter aftertaste.

She shut her eyes tightly, as if she could block out the past by sheer force of will. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, threatening to spill over. "It's fine now. He's gone. I made sure of that. He's not coming back." Yet, no matter how many times she repeated it to herself, she couldn't escape the feeling that Dane was still watching her every move, lurking in the shadows of her mind.

The room was silent except for the faint hum of the ventilation system. Every creak and shuffle from the hallway outside made her flinch. Her head perked up at the sound of footsteps shuffling closer, stopping right in front of her door. Her breath hitched as the door slid open slowly. A young woman in a white coat stepped inside, her movements calm and deliberate. Riane recognized her immediately as her psychiatrist. The sight of her brought a flicker of relief, but it was quickly overshadowed by suspicion.