The next day came too quickly. 

Brett wasn't sure what to expect. The violence of the ketamine-induced hallucinations had him dreading going back under, but he promised he'd give it one more chance. The lights had only flickered a couple of times the night before, and he slept like a baby after talking with Lauren for most of the afternoon and evening. 

Nausea crept up his throat as he followed Dr. Engel to the lab. Her advice was just to relax and go with the flow. Stress may have caused his negative experiences the first two times. If he could just relax and regulate his breathing, he might even have a little fun with this one.

He doubted that.

The set up was just as it was before. He closed his eyes tight when they inserted the IV and he felt the cold fluid enter his veins. Maybe, he thought, if he could hold onto consciousness, he could avoid any rabid dogs or crazy mice. But his world darkened, and he was pulled under once more. 

He was standing at the edge of a cliff, which immediately put him on age because of his terrible fear of heights. It was dusk, and the sun was dipping below the horizon. The view would have been gorgeous if it weren't for his proximity to the edge. He made the mistake of looking down and gauged the drop to be several hundred feet. There were a few trees growing here and there from the side of the cliff, proof that life can survive any situation, no matter how difficult. He tried to find comfort in that, but the exposed roots also showed the futility of existence. Just one strong thunderstorm, and the trees could be ripped from their precarious perches. 

Think positive, he told himself. He breathed deeply, counting, inhale 1 2 3 4, exhale 5 6 7 8. Just as he was getting into the zone, though, he heard a familiar noise. The squeaking of mice. Hundreds of little feet running his way. He turned his head toward the interruption and saw so many, too many, coming toward him. 

What had Lauren said yesterday? About them being lab rats? If so, they were just as stuck in this situation as he was. His attitude changed from irritation to sympathy. The mice were headed for the cliff, about to run right off, into the air, and plummet to their deaths. And he was going to swept right along with them. 

What could he do to save himself, to save them? There was no way he could redirect them, they were coming at him at such a high velocity. Against his better judgment, he headed their way to meet them before they soared to their demise. They cut around him and rushed toward the abyss. 

Maybe I don't have to save all of them, he thought. Even a couple could make a difference. He stooped down and caught two, one in his left hand and one in his right. They squirmed but did not escape his grasp. He started jogging away from the edge of the cliff with his two little white mice, their savior and hero. In the distance, he saw a small shack. It didn't look like much, just some decaying old boards nailed together, but he sought refuge in any shape or form. 

There was no one inside. Just a table, one chair, and a plate of cheese. He nearly burst into laughter at his subconscious trying to provide for the two little orphans he'd adopted. He placed them each on the table near the plate of cheese, and they set to work, nibbling at the snack. His heart slowed a little as he sat in the chair and practiced his breathing exercise in peace. Maybe Dr. Engel was right. He just had to go with the flow, and everything would be fine. 

Before he knew it, the room around him began to fade, and he opened his eyes to the florescent lighting of the lab. Dr. Engel looked at him hopefully, and he smiled. 

"It's all good," Brett told the doctor. She flashed a brilliant smile at him--maybe because she was happy the treatment finally worked, but more probably because her experiment wouldn't be a failure. She needed this to be a success just as much as he did, maybe even more so. Her career was riding on it. 

"Whoops," she said as he swung his feet off the bed and tried to stand up. "Not so fast."

He obeyed her command and sat there for a few moments, gathering his strength and balance. He couldn't wait to get back to the common area and tell Lauren about the mice. She would laugh her ass off. 

By the time they made it back, she was nowhere to be seen. He walked to her room and peaked inside the open door and was shocked that it was empty. Not only was she missing, but so was all her stuff. The bed had been freshly made, as if to welcome a new patient. 

He went to the nurse's desk and asked the woman on duty where Lauren was. 

"She was released about an hour ago," the woman replied distractedly, pausing from her paperwork for only a moment and then continuing to check boxes on a form. 

"I didn't think she'd be leaving so soon," Brett said, but the woman wasn't paying attention. He turned away from the desk and walked into the middle of the common room, not sure what to do with himself. She had been his only real friend in this place, and now she was gone with no way for him to contact her. He sank into a chair and stared into space, the good feeling from the experiment giving way to something dark, a grief he wasn't quite sure he was entitled to. After all, everyone would be leaving this place eventually. It was just a break from real life until people could pull themselves back together. 

But there was an anger in him. She hadn't even thought to say goodbye.