Hannah

Miss Hannah smiles as you enter her lavish home, you having been dropped off by a social worker who doesn't enter with you but rather leaves, afraid to face her. She studies you closely, her kind smile never wavering, although her artificial eyes betray her worry about what sort of past you may have and whether you'll accept her. Still, she approaches you carefully and runs her fingers softly through your hair, then tips your chin up so she can see your eyes Welcome home, dear. Call me Mother.