Yharnam was a dreary city at the best of times, but now, with the rain pouring down upon its citizens from a sky black with clouds, it was positively miserable. Yavana gripped her hood a little tighter to prevent the powerful winds from tearing it off and exposing her to the downpour. She used her other hand to hold her stomach as she continued down the slippery cobbled street to her destination. The abdominal pains had grown worse as of late, and she had no idea what was causing them. That was the sole reason she was now hurrying down one of Yharnam's grim streets in awful weather, looking for the physician's practice one of her friends had told her about. The dim light from the gas lamps hanging above Yharnam's citizens doors helped her navigate the rapidly darkening path; Yavana had known she shouldn't have left the appointment until the last minute, but she had been reluctant to begin with. Now she was paying the price as the city yielded to the embrace of night. Seeds of worry started to sprout in her mind, as the meagre light she was provided by the helpful people of Yharnam left plenty of shadows. Shadows, her mind insisted on saying, where things might lurk.

With a sigh of relief, she glimpsed a rather dingy little building with a chipped sign nailed to it. The sign read: Schaefer, Physician and Surgeon. Open until nightfall. Yavana was able to let out a small smile as she approached the door of the practice, in spite of the torrential rain, the pain in her stomach, the wind and the ominous streets of Yharnam. She took her hand from her stomach and raised it to grasp the doorknocker. She swallowed nervously as her previous apprehension returned. The building did not look very well maintained, and the battered front door seemed to leer at her. She shrugged and made to leave; perhaps she could come back tomorrow. Then perhaps the place wouldn't look so unfriendly. She had only taken a few steps when the door opened and revealed the hall within. Yavana stifled a scream as her imagination immediately made a mess of things, conjuring up images of grisly, gibbering horrors. All of that was for naught. Instead of terrifying apparitions, a tired looking woman poked her head out from around the door. She appraised Yavana carefully before speaking, taking in the other woman's frightened expression and tense posture.

"Apologies if I scared you, madam," she said with a reassuring smile. "I am Schaefer, the owner of this establishment. I hope you are alright. I was about to close up when I noticed you standing out here, so I thought I might see if you needed my services."

"Oh! I'm fine. I just was a little tense, that's all. And then you opened the door so suddenly..." Yavana laughed a little, not sounding quite right even to her own ears. Her heart still hammered furiously in her chest. "Gave me quite a turn."

The woman nodded in understanding. "Of course. Apologies again, madam. Anyway, do you require my help? Because I really should be locking up."

"Yes, yes I do. I have been suffering abdominal pain lately. I merely wanted to see if you had something that could help," Yavana said, trying to keep a treble out of her voice.

"I see. Come in, come in. Get out of this terrible weather and put your coat up on the hook. Wait for me in the parlour while I get my tools," Schaefer said, her manner suddenly business-like. She ushered Yavana through the open doorway and showed her to the parlour, before heading off upstairs to fetch her equipment. Yavana cautiously seated herself in a plush-looking armchair. She gazed around the room, all her previous fear now fading from her mind like the remnants of a dream. The walls of the parlour had several paintings hung upon them-only small ones-and they were slightly clumsy. Yavana suspected the physician had made them herself. She continued to cast her eyes about the room, admiring the bookshelf and the volumes inside it in the far corner. She settled deeper into the chair and wondered how long Schaefer would take. Several seconds later, a tap on her shoulder signalled the physician had returned.

She glanced up at Schaefer, who was now wearing a long leather apron. The physician moved over and stood next to her, placing a large steel case on the low table in front of the armchair. Schaefer opened it and removed one of the plague masks that Yavana had been seeing around the city frequently since a few days ago. They were odd looking things, fashioned in the shape of a bird's head, and containing various herbs to filter out unsavoury smells and sicknesses. The other things inside the case were what caught her attention though. Scalpels, needles, a bonesaw, syringes and all in myriad shapes and sizes. The physician ignored her curiosity and picked up the plague mask. She carefully fitted it over her face, tightening the straps until there was no danger of it coming loose. Yavana warily watched the whole process.

Schaefer turned to her. "Do not worry. The mask is just so that any contagions or diseases you may potentially exhale do not harm me," she explained. She selected a syringe, and carefully filled it with a murky liquid. Yavana felt that something was very wrong. Surely, abdominal pain did not need an injection? She tried to voice her concerns.

"Are you sure that is necessary?" she asked, a little nervous.

"I am an expert, my dear," Schaefer said soothingly. She carefully held Yavana's wrist and pierced the vein in her arm, pressing the plunger on the syringe once it was properly placed. The physician nodded, satisfied. Yavana, however, felt herself go light-headed and her vision grow hazy. She tried to stand, tried to leave, but her body betrayed her and she collapsed back into her chair, suddenly tired, and closed her eyes.


When she awoke, it was pitch black, and the only sound she could hear was her own breathing and the distant drumming of rain. The scent of rot and decay reached her nostrils, and she futilely looked around for any hint of where she was. Then she remembered: she had come to see the physician, been given an injection of some sort, and now she was...where? She attempted to move, but she couldn't even persuade her fingers to twitch. She heard a door creak above her, and a sliver of light shone down, revealing a rickety staircase. The light grew larger and brighter, showing her more of the room she was in. The injection she'd received didn't stop her from screaming.

Several people lay on the floor of the basement. They all were severely mutilated, parts missing, torn open, varying between corpses. Large pools of dried blood stained the dirt floor. Maggots were gorging themselves on the bodies, masses of them going wild as they feasted on human flesh. Many of the dead's faces were contorted from the massive amounts of pain that had clearly been inflicted upon them. Even worse, a small child was hanging from the ceiling by their ankles, entrails strung across various meat hooks dangling with them like grisly streamers. The child's face was twisted into a silent scream that amply demonstrated the torment they had undoubtedly gone through.

Yavana ripped her eyes away from the gruesome scene, bile rising in her throat until she nearly vomited. She managed to resist the impulse, just barely, and instead glanced up the stairs. The surgeon stood at the top. Her mask was still affixed to her face, and the bonesaw she held in her hand gleamed with the promise of agony.

"I am sorry for this, madam. However, my research must continue," she said softly. Yavana could swear that there was an undercurrent of amusement in the physician's voice, however; and that she sounded like she was grinning.

The eyes of the mask seemed to bore into Yavana, dull and cruel; she saw no mercy in that empty, glassy gaze as Schaefer started down the stairs. Only a reassurance that she would suffer just as much as the other nameless citizens in the blood-soaked basement, and that her own agonized screams would be just as loud. Each step resounded throughout the basement and Yavana's brain, all in one note.

Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.

Yavana could only close her eyes and wait for the end to come.