The examination room smelled of antiseptic and something softer—lavender, maybe, from the diffuser in the corner. Clara clutched her plush rabbit tighter against her chest, its worn fur pressing against her chin as she swung her legs from the edge of the exam table. The paper crinkled beneath her each time she shifted.

"You're being such a good girl today," Dr. Marcus said from across the room, his back turned as he prepared something on the metal tray. The clink of instruments made Clara's stomach flutter. "I know you get nervous, but Daddy's going to take care of everything. You remember that, don't you?"