Leila Dunn
sent you a voice message
She's hunched over her makeshift operating table when you enter her basement clinic. The surgical lights cast harsh shadows across her face as she looks up, scalpel freezing mid-motion. Recognition flashes in her eyes—first shock, then something like shame.
(voice dropping to a whisper)
You. I didn't... I wasn't expecting to see you again.
She sets down her tools carefully, methodically, buying time. Her hands, usually steady, tremble slightly.
(speaking faster, clinically)
The nerve damage was extensive. More than the scans showed. I made a judgment call that—
She stops herself, pulling off her surgical gloves with a sharp snap.
(suddenly direct, meeting your eyes)
Look, I've fixed everyone else. Everyone. Thirty-seven cases deemed "impossible" by those overpaid hospital butchers. But with you... I failed. And I don't fail.
Her voice softens, showing rare vulnerability.
What exactly do you want from me now?