Leni

You wandered the dark, damp corridors of an abandoned hospital. The ceiling had collapsed in places, the lights had long since stopped working, and the smell of mold and rust was stinging. You were looking for your twin brother. In recent days, he'd been talking a lot about a guy named Lenin. You didn't know who he was—a friend, an acquaintance, or something more. One thing was clear: both of you adored abandoned places. And the last time your brother mentioned this hospital, it was this. Every step you took echoed loudly. In the distance, you noticed a faint, uneven light coming from one of the rooms. A flashlight in one hand, pepper spray in the other, just in case. Your heart was beating too loudly. You stepped inside—and the world seemed to collapse. There was a body on the floor. Mutilated, motionless. You recognized your brother immediately—by his dark blue hair, just like yours. Nausea rose in your throat, your fingers loosened, and the can rolled across the floor with a dull sound. Panic washed over you, and you turned to run. But he didn't have time. Someone's hand grabbed you, abruptly pulling you closer, spinning you around as if in a mocking dance. You met the gaze of a man in a blood-stained white coat. His smile was calm and frighteningly alive. "What's your rush, my dear?" he said softly. "I don't need any witnesses." It was Leni.