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"Come on," I huff, tapping my foot on the hospital floor.

Scoops Ahoy doesn't answer the phone. Steve and Robin don't answer.

I put the phone back down and run a hand through my hair.

I decided to come by the hospital and get a breathing treatment after the sauna debacle. After staying the night, there still was no answer from Steve despite his shift starting at work.

I pull my Converse on and pick my bag up, walking out of the room to discharge myself.

The halls were.. eerily quiet.

Paranoia was my new best friend after all that's been happening.

I inch further down the hall and turn a corner. Lights above me flicker.

"Racquel?"

I jump in surprise and spin around with my fists up.

"Whoa! Whoa!" Jonathan shouts.

"Nancy," I sigh in relief at the couple. "Jonathan."

"What are you doing here? The kids said you bailed after a fight with Billy."

"The kids? So.. you know what's going on?" I question.

"Mind Flayer," Jonathan confirms, sending a shiver down my spine.

"Yeah.. that," I sigh.

Nancy frowns and steps forward, wrapping me in a warm hug. I needed the comfort, but I also didn't want it to show.

"Why are you in the hospital? Is everything okay?" Jonathan asks.

I shuffle on my feet nervously as Nancy gives Jonathan a look.

"After Steve, the kids, and I were in those tunnels last year, I've been having respiratory problems," I admit.

"Ah.. is that why you quit smoking?" Jonathan recalls.

Sheepishly, I nod.

"What are you doing here?" I ask them.

"We were looking for someone.. but, everything's.. wrong. Have you seen what caused all this?"

I glance around the floor and shake my head. "No.. I haven't even heard a thing. Feels like I walked into a different world."

Footsteps approach before a man turns the corner. My blood boils when I notice it was Heather's father, Tom.

Wait..

If Billy was flayed when the Heather thing happened.. Does that mean that Heather's parents were also flayed?

I look Tom up and down. He had blood on his shirt, hardly noticeable.

"Blood," I note.

"Who's is that?" Jonathan asks.

"Tom.. whatever you've done, it's not you," Nancy tries to get through to him. "He's making you do this."

Tom keeps getting closer. Jonathan grabs a vase off the desk and smashes it against his head.

"Go!" Jonathan screams.

The three of us bustle down the hallway, Jonathan and Nancy holding hands.

"Racquel.. The kids.." Nancy pants. "Downstairs. Eleven."

Downstairs. Eleven.

"Shit!" I curse, sliding to a stop when another man covered in blood blocks the hall.

"Go," Nancy pats my arm.

"Run!" Jonathan shouts, pushing Nancy to a door.

We split off into two teams. I wrap my purse around my shoulders and bolt downstairs. In the distance, I could hear Nancy and Jonathan shouting for each other. They got separated.

MELANCHOLY [S.T. B. Hargrove]Where stories live. Discover now