I would love to say I was born to act. Unfortunately, the only acting credit to my name was back in eighth grade when I spontaneously joined the drama club for their production of Grease.

Now, I didn’t join because I actually wanted to perform on stage in front of hundreds of parents. That part actually terrified me. I joined because of a girl. Specifically, a girl named Roslyn, who was auditioning for the part of Rizzo.

She said it would be fun to spend more time together. I had no other real hobbies, so acting seemed as good as any. Plus, how hard could it be? At the time, It seemed like a foolproof plan.

Naturally, in my infinite wisdom, I decided to audition for Kenickie, Rizzo’s love interest. I heard there was a scene where the two got to kiss. On stage or not, that wasn’t a chance I was going to pass up.

Of course, what I didn’t realize was that acting requires a certain amount of talent, of which I had little to none. The drama teacher politely let me know the role was not the right fit for me. In fact, he suggested I skip singing altogether. It was a harsh but fair critique. Roslyn landed the role of Rizzo, and I got stuck as background actor number five.

As it turned out, Roslyn was never into Kenickie. Or boys, for that matter. Soon after the play was over, she ended up dating the girl who played Frenchie. I probably should have caught on when she kept talking about how cute Frenchie looked or the one time I saw them kissing backstage, but situational awareness was never my strong suit.

For a long time, I chalked that experience up to wasted time. Two months of rehearsals, four days a week, all for one forgettable line in a play.

But now, here I was, grateful for that bit part, because I’d need every bit of know-how I picked up to pull off my new role as mute eloper number twenty-nine-ish.

Heck, with no lines and no singing, I might actually have a shot at pulling this off.

As the drama teacher always used to say to me, the less someone notices your character, the better. Stay in the back and stay quiet. Thinking about it now, he was a really bad teacher, but this time, I planned to actually listen to that advice.

The asshole nurse who put me in these scrubs, I think her name was actually Stephanie, eventually came to get me. By the time she wheeled me to join the others, It was dark outside. I had clearly missed dinner, on top of my meeting with Courtney and Aubry. I hoped once the girls saw my condition they would understand it wasn’t intentional.

Actually, you know what? Fuck Stephanie! She didn’t deserve for me to use her real name. No, she was just Asshole to me from here on out.

Asshole parked me in the back row of the rec room near the other elopers. The lights in the room were turned off except for a single row in the very back, so patients could easily see the screen. That put me in prime eavesdropping territory.

The movie playing tonight was Mrs. Doubtfire. Robin Williams was fully disguised as an old grandmother figure, pretending to be something he wasn’t and trying to fool those around him.

I didn't have to wear a full body suit, thank God, but the movie felt almost too on point with my situation.

I’d seen this movie a hundred times as a kid. I watched it over and over again until the VHS tape literally fell apart.

Tonight, though, I couldn’t afford to watch. I needed to listen for clues. Aubry had mentioned that the nurses talked like we weren’t even there. Maybe they’d let something slip.

The room was divided with regular patients in the front rows, and elopers like me in the back. Asshole had joined the cluster of nurses gossiping at a table in the far corner. I focused on their voices.

“What happened to the new kid?” one of them asked. She was an older woman with an old-school eighties perm.

Asshole replied, “Doc thinks it’s PTSD. We tried interviewing him, and he just snapped. He’s been like this for hours. We were hoping being around others might snap him out of it.”

The perm nurse scoffed. “Kids today are soft. You know what he needs? A nice firm paddling!”

Another nurse who was younger, chimed in. “No, Janice, you’re not beating the patients. Seriously, how do you still have a job?”

Janice, who was apparently the perm nurse replied. “I’m just saying, when I was your age, we used to beat the weirdness out of them. Now we coddle them.”

The younger nurse wasn’t having it. “When you were my age, they put women in here because their husbands said they were hysterical. Not everything back then was better.”

I liked this nurse. She wasn’t like Asshole or Dr. Klanderman. Still, without some sort of proof, I had to assume she was as bad as the rest. That was a real shame, It would have been great to have some insider help.

The conversation had shifted to one about who was sleeping with the doctor. Apparently it was Asshole.

That surprised me. She was so old and wrinkly and he was so... not. I felt my stomach churn. The thought of those two together made me want to vomit.

Courtney had slipped into view, crouching low in front of my wheelchair. She was so quiet that I had almost missed her sneaking up on me. How the hell was she so good at that?

“Hey new guy, are you still in there?” she whispered, eyes wide with concern.

I managed a whisper back. “I’m here.”

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For most people, talking without moving your lips was hard. Not for me. I spent years as a kid practicing ventriloquism with a dummy named Slappy, who was a character from the Goosebumps books. Hmm, I guess I did have a hobby outside of acting. Maybe it's best that I kept that hobby to myself.

She let out a sigh of relief. “Oh thank God, What’s going on? Why are you in scrubs?” she asked, voice low.

“I’m undercover,” I replied, keeping my lips still.

Her expression softened. “Did he do something to you?”

“Yes. You should stay safe. Stay away.”

“We want to help, Aubry and I. For Sharon.”

I did say that I needed their help. Unfortunately, my original plan was no longer possible. So what could I have them do? I had to think fast.

Oh, my laptop! Maybe it was still under my sheets. Hopefully the cleaning staff hadn’t found it yet. If they hadn’t, maybe one of the girls could get it and keep it hidden until it teleported back to me. It was worth a shot.

I really didn’t want the staff to get their hands on it. Especially not Dr. Klanderman or Asshole.

“There’s something in my sheets. It’s hidden,” I said, carefully choosing words that didn’t involve tricky letters like B or P.

“What is it?” she asked, frowning.

Before I could come up with a word for laptop that I could throw with my voice, a commotion erupted in the room.

Someone had stood up, blocking the television for those in the back. Was that Josiah?

He stood up, walking straight toward the back of the room. That was definitely him. Where the heck was he going?

“Sit down, Josiah! Don’t ruin movie night for everyone,” one of the nurses yelled.

Josiah continued moving, ignoring the nurses demand. In fact, he was speeding up.

Courtney whispered, “He’s got something in his hand. It looks like a weapon.”

I hadn’t noticed it, but as I turned to look, chaos unfolded. A woman screamed, followed by a loud thud as someone collapsed to the floor.

Who was that screaming?

The crowd rushed forward suddenly forming a circle. There were patients crying. Some were cheering. It was pure chaos. Damn this wheelchair. It made it impossible to see in moments like this.

“Who got hit?” I asked. I was hopeful Courtney had a better view now that she was standing.

Courtney hesitated. “I think it was one of the nurses.”

The shouting grew louder, Josiah’s voice rising above it all, chanting, “Looks like a duck! It probably is a duck!”

Well that was an odd chant. What the hell did that even mean? I was positive there were no ducks in the room.

I glanced at Courtney. “Wheel me closer. I need to see.”

She didn’t ask questions. Instead, she rolled me closer, just in time to catch the aftermath. There was a nurse lying on the floor with a fork in her neck. Holy crap, It was Asshole! The old nurse had apparently lost her wig in the struggle, revealing a bald, wrinkled scalp.

But something else was wrong. Her skin, it wasn't right. Parts of it were just missing for lack of a better term. It looked like one of those images you would find on one of those shock sites, but in real life. There was no blood, just peeled off, decaying flesh. Nothing could have prepared me for that.

“What’s wrong with her face?” I muttered, my stomach churning.

Courtney looked at me, confused. “Her neck, you mean?”

No. It wasn’t her neck. It was her face. How the hell had she missed it?

“No I mean her…” Before I was able to finish my thought, her skin quickly rippled like water, and suddenly it was back to normal. It was like it had never happened.

Oh hell, I was going crazy! Maybe the drugs were still messing with me, or maybe there was something far worse happening in this hospital than I realized.

Something about this whole thing wasn't right. Of all of the nurses, Josiah picked the one that assisted the doctor in trying to torture me. To manipulate my brain. Now she's on the floor, and possibly a zombie? That didn't feel like a simple coincidence. I was missing something.

Also, I wasn't a doctor, but shouldn't there be a lot more blood? It was dark, but she didn't look to be bleeding at all. No, something wasn't normal with this woman.

Right now I needed that laptop and I needed Naomi. I turned to Courtney. “Listen closely. There’s a laptop in my old room. Find it. Get it to my new room, or hide it. I can’t explain, but it’ll make its way to me regardless.”

Courtney nodded, her expression serious. “Got it.”

“Also, tomorrow, when you’re doing your visitation with your social worker. I need you to have her reach out to a detective Naomi Johnson of the Ravenwood Police Department. Don’t let her say no. You need to do whatever it takes to make her listen. Tell her you need to talk to her about a boy and to look up Sodium thiopental before she gets here."

I pointed to a spot on my arm that still contained a red bump, "That’s what they tried to inject me with. Luckily it failed. Again, you can’t take no for an answer. Nod if you understand me.”

“Who’s Naomi?” she asked, looking confused.

“No time. Just promise me.”

She nodded. “I promise.”

A few orderlies finally came and restrained Josiah, taking him away to a secluded section of the hospital most of us had only heard rumors about. Meanwhile, a doctor attempted to treat Asshole, who outside of the fork in her neck seemed relatively unscathed.

It appeared movie night was officially over, and we were sent back to our rooms. The young nurse wheeled me back to my new solo room.

The two ghosts who had helped me earlier in the day were in the room with me. They were joined by two others who also appeared to look aware of their surroundings.

Whatever they were doing, it was slowly working. Hopefully soon, all of the ghosts would be clear of whatever haze they were in.

Josiah's chant was in my head like an itch I couldn't scratch. I had heard those words before. I think it was from a movie or show. Damnit, I couldn't remember. Maybe someone else would know. If only I had a chance to ask Corey.

I thought back to the comment Alex had made in his original video:

> Quickly, the silent eyes that watched over me as I slept multiplied. From what I’ve gathered, the dead don’t sleep at night. Instead they seem to watch almost enviously as I do.

>

> The more of them that showed up, the less I found myself able to sleep. There’s something about a crowd of people that watch you sleep that leaves you uneasy, even if they aren’t really there. I’m sure you’ll experience that soon enough.

With four pairs of eyes in the room as I tried to sleep, combined with the fear of Dr. Klanderman sneaking in from the bathroom, I feared Alex’s prediction was about to come true. It was about to be a rough night for me.