The afternoon sun cast long shadows as Emily navigated the narrow, winding streets toward the old art studio Alex had described. Her mind was awash with conflicting thoughts. Part of her knew she should report Alex's confession to the authorities, but another part, the part driven by curiosity and a sense of duty to her patient, urged her to investigate further.

She parked her car a block away and walked the remaining distance, her heart pounding with each step. The studio stood at the end of a desolate alley, its windows boarded up, and the walls covered in graffiti. The air was thick with the smell of decay and neglect.

Emily hesitated at the entrance, feeling a shiver of apprehension. She glanced around, ensuring no one was watching, then took a deep breath and stepped into the alley. The scene was eerily quiet, the only sound being the distant hum of city life.

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