The first nights she spent at the sanatorium, Louise dreamed of a shattered mirror slab held together with magic. She did not recognize the flower field it was at — of course she did not, she had amnesia — but something in it seemed familiar.
She must have been there at some point in her life. She was sure of it. However, with nothing to indicate where that field could be, it did not help her recover a bit of her memories or information about who she was and where she was.
As the nights went on and the dreams of that slab faded away, Louise grew more desperate, thirstier for answers. Yet all the answers were out of her reach, either locked away in her head or impossible to connect to her with the lack of information. The sanatorium staff knew nothing of her; she had merely been transferred there from a hospital without a paper trail to follow — a common practice, apparently, for people who were deemed too sick to recover to the point of returning to normal life. The sanatorium, located deep in the countryside, was meant to be a place where people were sent to die peacefully.
Louise could not help feeling that someone wanted her either to disappear to be hidden from someone or something. It was frustrating nevertheless, and she yearned for an escape from the closed facility. She did not want to be one of those who were nursed till death, hidden from the world around the sanatorium.
Whatever it would take, Louise swore to escape and find out who she was.