"How long is this gonna take?" I asked.

Aaron focused solely on the door in front of him. "Depends on the lock. This one seems tricky, so it might take a few minutes," he said.

After parking the car somewhere discreet, we had made our way around to the back of the building and found a few different doors. Most of them were sealed shut, so we only had a few choices. Not surprisingly, our options were all locked, so we chose one towards the far back of the structure to avoid being spotted by anyone while we broke in. Since Aaron was the only one of us who could pick locks, we were sitting around in the dark, waiting for him to get the door open.

"I thought you knew how to do this," I grumbled, watching to be sure we weren't seen.

Aaron rolled his eyes at my impatience. "I do," he said. "Be quiet so I can concentrate."

We all fell silent. Minutes later, we heard a click and Aaron stood. He opened the door for the rest of us, appearing smug. "Let's go," he said, and we stepped in one at a time.

Rowen chuckled. "A broom closet?" he asked.

We had opened a door into a janitor's closet. Mops and buckets lined the walls of the small room like slumbering ghouls in the stillness. There was another door on the other side. We moved things out of the way to get to it. As we stepped out, we saw that the inside of the building gave a very different feel than the outside. The place looked like a hospital. The walls and floors were white, there were different kinds of medical equipment lying about, and the air was filled with the pungent smell of disinfectant.

The hall was so brightly lit, anyone walking by at that moment would have seen us immediately, but thankfully, no one was around.  We had the hall to ourselves.

"Where do we go from here?" Kevin whispered.

We all peered over Aaron's shoulder as he unfolded a blueprint of the building's layout. There was a room on each floor containing files on patients for that floor. Aaron said he would have looked for all of the files ahead of time, but they apparently didn't keep any of their filing in a database. It was all done in paper.

"What floor is Cliff on?" I asked, eager to get moving.

"It looks like the new patients get put on the third floor and eventually get moved down to the second or first if they respond well to treatment," Aaron said. He looked worried. "I don't like guesswork, but that's our best bet for the moment."

Rowen pointed to a spot on the layout. "The closest elevator is two halls down."

Once Aaron had put his map away, we began the torturous trek down the hallway towards the elevator. We didn't want to attract attention if there were people around, so we had to walk annoyingly slow. By the time we made it to the elevator, I was about to scream. We pressed the button for floor three and the doors closed softly. I tapped my foot impatiently, Aaron checked his watch, Rowen lounged against the railing, and Kevin looked anxious. When the silence became too much, Kevin was the one to break it.

"Isn't it a little strange that we're taking the elevator? I mean, wouldn't it be better to take the stairs?" he asked.

With a grin, Rowen rested his elbow on Kevin's shoulder. "I think you've seen too many movies. In real life it's best to save your energy for an emergency exit," he said. "Taking the stairs would wear you out before you may possibly need to run."

Kevin eased away from Rowen to scoot closer to me, an evident flush on his cheeks. "Oh..." he said.

The ding of the elevator as it reached the third floor was louder than any of us would have preferred. When the doors slid opened, we waited a moment out of fear of being caught. However, when the elevator wasn't stormed with security guards, we decided we must be okay. We all looked out at once, scanning the halls for signs of life. There was a lady standing by the door to a room that said "Information Desk".

Grinning maliciously, Rowen pulled his knife out of his belt. "I've got this," he said, without looking away from the woman. 

Aaron grabbed his arm with a warning look before he could fully leave the elevator. "What do you think you're doing?" he hissed.

"What does it look like? She's in the way," Rowen said.

Aaron pulled him back into the elevator. "What do you think we got the outfits for? Just wait here," he said.

Rowen scowled but put his knife away nonetheless. After telling us to sit tight while he got this sorted out, Aaron stepped out of the elevator and walked towards the woman. She looked up from the papers she was reading and frowned. "May I help you?" she asked.

Aaron smiled politely. "I'm changing the sheets of all the patients admitted in the last month, but I seem to have lost the room number for..." he looked at an imaginary list in his mind. "...Clifford Dine," he said, snapping his fingers and simultaneously snapping on a charm that should have been gross, but was one of the most convincing acts I had ever seen. He leaned o the counter. "You look like a smart girl. You wouldn't be able to help me out, would you?"

In an instant, the woman flushed and hid behind her papers. "Oh... I mean, I'm not really supposed to give out that sort of information," she said, looking around. Aaron grinned and whispered something in her ear that made her turn scarlet. "Well, I suppose you'll need his file then?" she said hurriedly.

"I would say that would be lovely, but it could never be as lovely as you," Aaron told her, gazing flirtatiously. Rowen rolled his eyes with a groan.

The woman all but fled into the room behind her and disappeared. Aaron followed.  A few seconds later, he poked his head out and motioned for us to join him. We scuffled down the hallway and into the room. The woman was sitting in the corner, tucked behind a filing cabinet. She appeared to be asleep.

"He's in room 329. I have the keycard," Aaron said, peering at a file he was holding. "It says here..." He trailed off and his expression turned dark.

I moved closer so I could see what he was reading. "What? What is it?" I asked as I peeked over his shoulder. I started reading before he could stop me.

"The patient is still refusing to take his medication, and his outbursts have become increasingly violent. If these conditions continue, he will need to be restrained during medication times, forcibly if necessary. His behavior towards the staff is also concerning and will need to be addressed in the form of punishment if it continues to worsen. In the meantime, he should continue with electric therapy until further notice."

Aaron opened his mouth to say something, but I snatched the keycard from his hand and bolted from the room. moving as quickly as I could while still trying to be discreet, I scanned the halls right and left for room 329. Finally, I spotted the door and I ran to it. The keycard was sweaty from my palms, making it difficult to unlock the door, but I finally got the card to slide through the reader and the door buzzed open.

The room was dark when I entered. I hesitated. "Cliff?" I said, vaguely making out the form of a bed against one wall. There was no response. I walked forwards slowly as my eyes adjusted to the lack of light. As I drew nearer, I saw the bed was empty and I made a wide circle, looking about in confusion. It was then that I saw the shape of a person seated in a corner next to the door. The familiar brown hair, messy and out or shape, was longer than I remembered and covered Cliff's face in a way that looked unnatural and wrong. He was wearing a straitjacket that restricted any form of movement in his arms. However, though he appeared to be unconscious, he was breathing and that brought relief.

"Oh, my God," I said, rushing to his side. "What did they do to you...?"

Pulling him away from the wall, I began to unbuckled the restraints. I had just gotten the third buckle open, and was about to start pulling the horrid contraption off when Cliff's hands suddenly seized my shirt and threw me on my back. Before I realized what was happening, his hands closed around my throat and squeezed.

I choked, scratching at Cliff's hands to no avail and kicking out as he pinned my entire body to the floor with the weight of his own. Through the dimness of the room, I could just make out the glint of his eyes; they reflected a sort of feral fear I had never witnessed in Cliff before. "You're not real," he whispered; and the sound of his voice was in such contrast to the expression on his face that I almost wasn't sure if it had been him speaking. But it had, and when I opened my mouth to respond, he choked me harder, teeth clenching. "Get out of my head," he gasped. "Please, anyone but you...!"

He was hurting, and everything in his fight or flight response was telling him the same thing: to fight, to kill everything that got close. It was terrifying and I struggled to turn my face away so I wouldn't have to see that look anymore. When the room began to darken, I was relieved to get that image away from me...

Just before I actually passed out, someone grabbed Cliff and I felt his weight disappear. During that same interaction, my airway was immediately freed and I gasped for air, coughing hard enough I almost threw up.

As I rolled over, trying to get to my feet without blacking out, I could hear Aaron speaking sharply. "What's the matter with you? Look at me," he said. "It's just us. That was Zane you almost strangled."

"Stop," I choked out, gratefully taking Kevin's help in getting to my feet. "He didn't know...!"

Aaron looked at me. He was gripping Cliff's shirt as Rowen held Cliff still with two arms under his shoulders. I stumbled to Cliff's side, lifting his face so I could see him. He looked lost, like he didn't recognize us or something. "Hey," I said, making him look right at me. "You're alright. Just breathe."

He seemed reluctant to let me touch him at first and my heart ached for him.

"Look around. We're here to get you out," I told him. "We're not in your head."

His defensive posture lessened and his firm expression faltered, then cracked. "Zane? It's actually you?" he whispered, still not believing it with his own eyes.

I nodded. "I'm right here," I said. "It's me."

Like air out of a balloon, Cliff slumped forward into me, barely able to stand for himself. "Thank you..." was all he said, wrapping his exhausted arms around me. I felt a dampness on my shirt and knew he was crying. He needed this moment more than he had needed anything else his whole life.

After a long minute that no one dared to interrupt, I finally pulled away. Cliff seemed reluctant to let go, but we needed to move. I wrapped an arm around his waist to help him stand. "Come on. Let's go home," I said.

*******

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