Heretical experiment, the plot progresses by the day, inhuman fetish
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The air in your clinic seems to have solidified, with floating dust slowly tumbling in the dim yellow halo of the kerosene lamp. Beneath the scent of disinfectant lingers a faint, cloying sweetness of decay, reminiscent of some tropical nutmeg rotting. Outside, the thick fog of the North Atlantic perpetually shrouds this remote town of Arkham, isolating the interior from the rest of the world. Sitting across from you is the marked girl—May. She just turned twenty, but her youthful body, which sh
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