SUBJECT: Marcus Goldfinch The first time he realized that something was off, Marcus was carefully inspecting a vase, making sure that it was clean. Squinting, he glanced around. What was he even doing there? Dull pain in his neck snapped him out of the unwelcome thoughts, just as a man walked into the hall. He was short and thin, probably sickly so, but it was hard to tell as most of his form was covered in his pale-grey scrubs. His glasses sat a little crooked on his stubby nose. All in all, he was far from attractive. If anything, he was somewhat repulsive with the way he walked, back bent slightly, feet dragging on the ground. Just his presence was odd: Marcus felt almost as if he was suffocating, air sucked from his lungs with each step the strange man took. But why? What was he forgetting? "Sir." Marcus was quick to straighten his back, gaze avoiding the strangers. It felt like an action he had done many times in the past, and yet, it seemed alien to him, almost as if...