"You're going through with this?! After what just happened?!" Joan argued as Cassidy searched her office.

Cassidy kept quiet, re-hooking the painting of Elizabeth Arkham when she found nothing underneath.

"Just- just think for a second-"

"I told you I can't leave..."

"You think you can carry on?! You barely escaped!"

"I know! I just-"

She sat among jumbles of files and paperwork, on the verge of giving up.

"Cassidy... I don't want you to get hurt..."

"So help me. Please. I need-"

Cassidy hissed, grabbing her sprained ankle as she knelt upright.

There was silence, as she lowered her head. All the protests from Joan zapped the life right out of her. How hard could it be? All she wanted was someone to tell her what to do, because right then, she had no idea. She felt like the universe had set her up to fail. Just to laugh.

And she would let it laugh- if it wanted to. She was worn out.

"... Fine...If you're staying- I'll help. Ok?"

Joan...

She cradled the walkie-talkie close to her chest.

"The trail... It led here but..." Cassidy said, picking paper off the floor "I can't find anything"

"Look, maybe take a few minutes, then check again, ok?"

"Yeah..." Cassidy sighed, nodding.

As Cassidy leaned down to pick up the last one, she noticed something small lodged under the table. She reached her arm under, feeling around. It wasn't dusty at all, as if someone had recently put it there.

She pulled out a wind-up box, purple, with a smiley face drawn on the lid. Every instinct told her to drop it. Throw it away. It felt wrong even holding it.

Her hand drew to the crank, itching to turn it as all reason had left. Like Pandora's box- curiosity got the better of her.

The crank turned, playing a merry tune:

'All around the mulberry bush

The monkey chased the weasel;

The monkey thought it was all in fun-'

!

Cassidy winced, ready for an attack, but there was nothing.

Peeking through, she saw a colorful clown puppet, bobbing up and down. There was nothing off about it, no stick of dynamite or acid flower- just a children's toy. Until she saw the brass object tied around its neck.

"I found a key... Uh... Something's written on it... '3A2- Sentry'... I- I don't know-"

"'Sentry'?'" Alyce interrupted over the walkie-talkie. "What the hell's that?"

"It's a supply company- they make safes, lockers... I've seen them before... in Hugo's office..." Joan said in a low voice.

"Oh great- wonder what he's hiding..."

As they argued, Cassidy paid little attention as she tucked the key inside her shoe.

Creeeeeak...

The jack in the box began to wind itself, slower than before, as Cassidy peered closer to it.

'Pop...

Goes...

The...'

Without warning, thick black smoke sprayed out of the clown's mouth, filling her lungs like a car exhaust. Putrid. Like rotten cabbage.

Cassidy kicked it away, choking.

"Cassidy?! What is it?! What's wrong?!"

Cassidy collapsed, tears streaming down her face as her throat constricted.

As she reached for the door, it creaked open, revealing a smart figure in a lab coat.

Jonathan Crane.

"Ah, Ms. Price"

He snatched the walkie-talkie from her hand.

"Apologies... I intended to book our appointment myself, but, there were a few- last minute errands- to run... and the clown needed a distraction"

As her arms and legs convulsed, she caught the back of her tormentor. His head, covered in a burlap sack—like a traditional straw Scarecrow.

She didn't see the front of it. She didn't want to.

"I'd like to start with 'Imaginal Exposure Therapy'- have you heard of it?"

He leaned on the table, removing the batteries from the walkie-talkie.

"It is a treatment requiring patients to recall and describe what they fear- successful in trauma cases... but in my experience, I find the only true way to conquer fear- is to relive it"

Helpless, Cassidy looked up; the ceiling a blur.

"Let's begin, shall we?".

///

Joan dropped the walkie-talkie, shoving past everyone in the Panic Room.

"What's she doing?"

"Is she ok?"

As the other staff whispered, one of them approached as she searched through the bags and coats that were lying around.

"Joan, ok, take it easy-"

"Has anyone got a phone?"

"I- I don't-"

"I said- has anyone got a phone?!" Joan barked.

"Uh, I have, I mean, mine- it's-"

Joan snatched it out of their hand, dialing Cassidy's number as quickly as she could.

"Come on, come on-".

///

Cassidy's phone vibrated in her pocket as the ceiling shook.

An earthquake, distorting her vision from black, to white, to yellow.

It felt like sleep paralysis... No...

It felt like dying.

RIIIING!

She jerked up, the familiar high school bell buzzing in her ears.

Her old Maths classroom; cluttered with equations and graphs laminated across the walls. The teacher stood half attentive at the front, trying to rub off the last of the permanent marker from the whiteboards with nothing but his sleeve.

Cassidy, 16 at the time, sat at a desk 3 rows down, scribbling in her notebook, strands of long hair trailing over her face. She kept to herself, always with headphones on; she figured if she did, then people would leave her alone. But some didn't get the hint.

Ellie. Jordan. Dressed head to toe in black with studded arm warmers and chain belts. They sniggered as their leader, Tasha, continued throwing old gum in Cassidy's direction.

They were outcasts themselves, so Cassidy never understood why they hated her so much. Her burn scars were obvious. Maybe she was the teacher's pet back then, or maybe she was so quiet that it got on their nerves. All the same, she was their prime target.

The group burst out laughing as a piece of gum got stuck in Cassidy's hair. She didn't flinch.

"Quiet down," The teacher said.

Not happy with her response, their leader smacked the back of her head with a math book.

"You know you've got shit in your hair?"

"Last warning, Tasha" The teacher called.

Tasha clicked her fingers in Cassidy's face, but she said nothing, turning back to her chair. This got to Tasha even more, who stormed over to Cassidy and yanked her headphones off, slamming her hands on her desk.

"HELLO?! ARE YOU FUCKING DEAF?!"

Some of the others burst out laughing; some stayed quiet.

Cassidy's knuckles clenched whiter than they had ever been before. That should have been enough of a warning. If it wasn't ignored.

"That's it- get out NOW" The teacher demanded, pointing at the door.

"What? She's retarded!"

As she spat out the last word- Cassidy snapped, and in one brutal move, she stabbed Tasha's hand with a pen so hard that it went into the table.

The whole class turned to hear her scream, as blood dripped down the table leg.

Cassidy ran outside, and that was the last time she would ever leave a classroom again.

A/N: Moral of the story- push too many buttons- and someone will snap.