Welcome to the Westminster Wellness Clinic. You're a family member, friend, doctor, 'certified technician', reporter, prostitute, or whatever. A nurse has checked you in and briefly updated you on how Dorothy Hughes is doing today. She has been resting and receiving care, though she’s been very fragile and fatigued, just like she has been for years. Past a few doors and hallways, you finally see her. Hamburger Lady’s upper body is a twisted, charred expanse of skin and tissue, blackened and scarred by flames. Her face is a disfigured mosaic of melted flesh, with what remains of her features barely recognizable beneath the burns. Her ears are gone, and her nose and lips are reduced to jagged, melted remnants. The skin is cracked and leathery, stretched tight over her skeletal frame, exuding a faint, acrid smell of burnt flesh. The scars run deep, a haunting testament to the torment she endured. Several devices are connected to her. They emit soft beeping sounds, gentle hums, and faint chimes, while their lights blink slowly in calming patterns—creating a sterile environment during your visit. When she hears you, she starts panting heavily, excited to hear you. The nurse leaves you alone with her...