"There! The exit!" Paul grinned and leapt up the stairs towards the door, closely pursued by John. George tried to follow quickly but stumbled, only to find Ringo helping him up.

"You okay?" The drummer asked worriedly. George really didn't seem like himself.

"Yeah..." George replied, "I'm just tired, that's all." Ringo could see the exhaustion and fear in his friend's eyes as they made their way up the stairs. "How are we getting home?" George asked.

"Umm..." Ringo considered John's car but then remembered it was smashed against a tree. "Walking, I guess." George didn't reply but Ringo could tell it wasn't the answer he was hoping for.

"What are you two slowcoaches doing?" John yelled at them from the top of the staircase. "We don't have all year to get home, y' know! And personally, I don't want to be caught by any more monsters!"

"Monsters?" George's eyes widened. "What monsters?"

"It's a long story," Ringo replied as they stepped out into the cool air. It felt good to be out of that unnerving mausoleum, even though it was still pitch black outside. The rows of tombstones glared at them coldly as they passed. Ringo shivered at the thought and moved closer to his friends, who were glancing around and jumping at every sound. John was the only one who didn't seem to be scared out of his mind.

Paul, however, could see straight through John's sarcastic smirk to the fear underneath. The fear that something might find them. The fear that something was out to get them.

"We're going the wrong way." George stopped suddenly, making Ringo bump into him.

"What do you mean?" John inquired, impatience creeping into his voice. "I know where we're going, George."

"We're going the wrong way!" George repeated aggressively and pushed John, who stumbled, caught by surprise.

"George, are you okay?" Paul asked, full of concern, "What's wrong?" He knew the sudden display of anger definitely wasn't a part of George's usual character.

George glared at them blankly and backed away. Ringo suddenly realised he was about to run off and tried to stop him, opening his mouth to comfort his friend. But then he caught sight of George's eyes. His hazel irises were clouded over and empty, an emotionless void of darkness. He didn't look like he even recognised his bandmates. Without warning, he took advantage of Ringo's hesitation and ran off into the trees, leaving the others standing bewildered in the path.

There were a few seconds of silence before someone reacted. "GEORGE!" Paul yelled suddenly and took off after him.

"Damn it." John murmured and started to run as well, grabbing Ringo and yanking him along. If there was one thing he knew, it was that they couldn't afford to split up. Anybody who had watched any horror movies knew that.

"COME BACK!" Paul yelled, as him, John and Ringo chased George through the trees and tried to ignore the nettle stings and scratches they received on the way.

They were scarcely keeping up with George who was leaping through the vegetation like a hare, oblivious to the fact that they would most likely end up lost in the middle of the dark woods.

He raced ahead before he tripped suddenly and cursed. "Wait!" John yelled and seized his chance, leaping on top of George to stop him from running off again. They grappled on the floor for a few seconds before John finally gritted his teeth and pinned George down.

"LET ME GO!" George swore loudly and tried to escape. There were tears streaming down his face, but his eyes were still empty and emotionless. He kicked out, uncharacteristically violent, but John refused to give in and determinedly accepted the sharp bruises and jabs.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Paul exclaimed, terrified.

George stopped writhing and looked straight at Paul. "It is here." Was the only thing he said before he carried on struggling under John's grip.

"Can someone help me?" John yelped as he received a particularly vicious scratch from George, "I'm struggling here!"

"Ringo, do something!" Paul screamed, "He's your friend, isn't he?"

"He's your friend too!" Ringo exclaimed and looked at George, unsure what to do and full of anxiety. It disturbed him how unrecognisable Geo's eyes were. "Umm... George?" He murmured, "Do you... do you know who I am?"

"You can't get through to him!" George spat and stopped kicking for a few moments to glare at Ringo.

Gulping, the drummer moved closer to George. "It's me, Ringo."

"You can't get through" George whispered, poison in his tone. But his voice was softer now. There was a flicker of hazel returning to Geo's irises and for a second, fear flooded his face."Ringo..?" He gasped, but his eyes clouded over again as soon as he spoke and his emotionless gaze returned.

"Keep going, Rings." Paul whispered, "It's working..."

Ringo gritted his teeth and looked straight at George, who stared back coldly. Then, slowly, Ringo reached a hand towards his friend's face.

George flinched away from the blistered fingers but John was pinning him down tightly. He couldn't move. Then, Ringo made contact with George's face and traced the edge of his cheekbones, murmuring comfortingly.

Instantly, the fog cleared from George's eyes and he looked around him, horrified. John stood up and stumbled away, giving his friend space. "You sure have a hard kick, George." He joked, but nobody laughed.

"Wh... what happened?" George groaned, looking around. He had no idea why Ringo and Paul looked so pale and terrified, or why John's cheek was swollen and bloody.

"You ran off, and when I tried to stop you from legging it again you attacked me," John explained, wiping some blood off his face.

George's jaw dropped. "I did that?" He whispered, gesturing at John's injuries.

"To be honest George, I don't think you did," John replied meaningfully.

"Wha..." George started, but then looked at the ground. He didn't need it to be explained to him; he could already feel it.

There was something else there... another presence... and it was inside him, just waiting to take control.

"W... we can help you." Paul put an arm around his bandmate, but George could feel the fear radiating off the bassist. Come to think of it, even John and Ringo were looking at him like he was some kind of monster.

Were they... were they afraid of him?