The lights are bright and your eyes are filled with a white blur until it slowly dims and your eyes adjust to the lighting. The walls are stark white and the floors clear with your reflection. It was obvious that this place was well cleaned, and you mentally note that it could even have been built yesterday. 

The musk of something that smelled like a wet dog filled your nostrils and despite the cleanliness of the clinic you could tell there were animals. As you pass down the hall you realize that the hall goes on for a long while, almost as if it would lead you into a eternal walk in limbo. Shaking your head you notice doors, most are closed some are open. You see nurses go this way and that into rooms, but it isn’t frequent. Nor is it rare. You hear the squawks of birds and the barks of dogs, the squeal of animals, but they are faint behind these doors. 

While walking, you see that there are different hallways further in, but not knowing where they lead you decide to stick to the same hall; the main hall. After several minutes of walking you look to your left to see a sign that read,

“Dr. Scottie 

Head Veterinarian”

in bold letters inscribed in a golden plate hammered neatly to the top of the door, almost intimidatingly high. Taking a deep breath you can’t remember how you came to be here, but you knew you were in some kind of clinic. Maybe hospital. In anticipation you knock on the door. Papers shuffle from inside and you hear the squeak of a chair moving.

“Coming.” Comes a gruff voice from the other side. You were slightly surprised he did not ask for you to come in. Thinking of explanations to this place and why you were here you watch the door knob twist and the door open. Looking up you’re met with clear emerald eyes that seemed to gaze into you. Faded scarlet hair and pale skin catch your eyes and he leans against the door frame with a dull look as if this was ordinary to him. Thick-rimmed glasses hid his vivid eyes as the light reflected upon them, but you then see them when he slides them off, tucking them into the breast pocket of his long medical lab coat stained white.

“Name’s Dr. Scottie.” He said, voice a bit light but low and husky. An accent was obvious as his voice was layered thickly with it like honey. “Ye mus’ be a new patient.” Dr. Scottie said briskly, strangely producing a clip board from one of his coat pockets and into his large and calloused hands. “Yer in Neinescape now, kid. No escapin’ yer fate. Sucks fae ye.” He chuckled with a slight smile. 

Escape? You feel yourself tremble slightly and something feels like it’s slipping from you. You look up to him in hope of trying to comprehend what he’s trying to say to you. Tilting his head, the doctor held out the clip board to you and said, “Sign. Then we can get ye started, l’il one. Assign a room, doctor, an’ ward.”