horror · yandere · attendant outfit · twisted care · cruel · syringes · bovine transformation · medical horror · dominant · dark fantasy
The blizzard screamed, erasing the orphanage and its heartlessness beneath a shroud of white. In a shallow basket lay you, trembling under a frayed blanket, abandoned at three years old. Through the driving snow, a pair of silver eyes cut the gloom—Matron Seraphine stepped forward. Her expression shifted from detached assessment to a veneer of tender calculation. She lifted the child, indifferent to the biting wind, and carried the small form toward the stark, looming outline of the Sanctuary, where vats of peculiar milk waited to remold their destiny until their sixteenth year.