I missed my bed. The warm comforter and the smell of musty laundry. Hell, I even missed my parents, as crazy as that sounded.

At this point, I just wanted to go home, get some good food in me, and then pass out for the foreseeable future.

Unfortunately, the best I could do right now was to sit with my face buried in my hands while I waited for the chaos to clear.

Across the lot, Courtney stood with a group of patients. Unlike the few of us that sat around waiting aimlessly, a large majority of the patients watched as the chaos unfolded from the building.

They were all trying to figure out what was happening. It was as if they were watching some weird reality TV show. Honestly, the guesses I overheard were wild. Some of them even made what really happened sound believable.

My personal favorite was from a guy who claimed aliens had taken over cottonwood. Funny enough, he was closer than he thought.

Courtney was doing her best to listen in, trying to see if there was anything on Aubry, but from the look on her face, she appeared to have struck out so far.

Meanwhile, the nurses had formed a barrier around the parking lot. The entire staff had made it in, even those from the previous night's incident. I guess someone decided they had spent enough time handling their trauma.

As someone that had dealt with multiple instances of death and trauma this week alone, I felt for those nurses.

Like the patients, the nurses were also spending most of this time spreading rumors and gossiping about what might have happened.

Normally I would have been all ears, trying to absorb whatever information I could, but considering I was there to witness it all, it felt like a waste of energy. Energy I didn't have to give. Plus it was clear no one had told them shit about what happened yet.

Fuck this, I needed sleep. Slowly, I slipped down onto the asphalt, laying on my back surrounded by a maze of parked vehicles.

A nurse started to reach out to stop me, but when she realized I was going to be alright, she backed away.

A gentle sprinkle of rain had begun to fall. It was soft and cool against my skin.

My eyes grew heavy, and slowly I felt the world fade away.

###

The asphalt of the Cottonwood Medical Center parking lot wasn’t exactly a luxury sleeping experience, but it got the job done.

I slept until my body had finally decided enough was enough. When I finally regained consciousness, I hovered somewhere between not-quite-awake and not-quite-asleep while my spine protested the unforgiving ground.

While both my mind and back told me I should open my eyes and get up, the rest of me was dying for just a few more minutes.

Unfortunately for me, it seemed someone else had other plans.

“Good evening, Mr. Raymond,” a voice rang out.

“Holy hell!” I yelped. My heart started to race.

My eyes flew open, and before I could stop myself, I bolted up, throwing my hands to the sky in what I could only describe as some weird defensive karate style position.

It looked like something out of the karate kid movies, but only if they starred kids who had never actually done karate before.

“I see you're still working on that cursing habit. I'll look past it this time,” said detective Naomi Johnson.

She held a note pad and pen in her hands, and radiated a friendly, yet professional smile.

Another woman, the younger nurse who called out the eighties perm nurse at movie night chimed in, “Oh my goodness! You're talking again! How amazing! Wait, do you two know each other?”

Naomi looked surprised by the nurse's comment, but quickly rebounded.

“Oh yes, Mr. Raymond's family and mine go way back,” Naomi replied.

Wait, had Naomi just lied to the nurse? Hold on, what the hell was I doing? My arms were still up in that weird karate pose.

Slowly, I dropped my hands to my side, doing my best to look dazed and confused, which honestly was pretty fucking easy.

I started to struggle to pull myself back up into my wheelchair, but my back refused to cooperate. This was apparently my backs revenge for the parking lot nap. What a great time to feel like an old man.

“Easy there. I'm excited to see you're talking again Joseph, but let’s not add a concussion to your list of problems,” the nurse replied.

Both her and Naomi rushed to help me back up into my chair. I wasn’t sure if the burn cream had washed away in that mist or not, but the fact she got me into the chair without issue helped to convince me that this nurse might not be like Nurse Asshole.

“Joseph,” the nurse began once I was all situated, “I know today’s been a bit eventful. You’ve been through quite the ordeal, and may I say I’m happy to have you back talking again.”

She gestured to Naomi. “But this nice detective has a few questions for you. Would you be up for that?”

“Oh. Of course, anything for a family friend” I replied, realizing I put a weirdly unnatural emphasis on the words family and friend.

Naomi shot me a look as if to say, tone it down. Man, I really was an awful actor.

“I’m glad to see you’re doing so well,” Naomi chimed in picking up the slack. She rested her hands on the back of my wheelchair like she owned it. “Mr. Raymond and I go way back. How’s your mother doing? Is she still making those quilts?”

Naomi was a pro at this. For a split second I actually believed my mom quilted. Ok, I just had to keep my tone natural.

“Oh yeah, she just finished a new one last week.”

“Oh, I love knitting,” the nurse interjected, her smile as bright as the son. She seemed to buy our story..

“Anyway, I’ll let you two go. Detective, I can group up the others for when you get back.”

“That would be great,” Naomi replied.

The nurse beamed, “Perfect. I’ll let you two talk. Just don’t push him too hard detective, we don't want him regressing again.”

“I’ll have him back before you know it,” Naomi said, already wheeling me toward the building.

Once the nurse was out of earshot, Naomi leaned down and whispered, “Not a word until I say so. Nod if you understand.”

I nodded, keeping my lips pressed shut. It was clear we weren’t going to be doing a basic interview like the nurse had suggested.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

###

We didn’t speak again until we were safely inside the building. Naomi grabbed my chair and pulled me into an area away from cameras and more importantly cops.

She tilted her head, listening for any signs of life, but the air was completely silent. Satisfied we were alone, she leaned in and whispered.

“Are you alright?” she asked, her voice low.

“I’m fine,” I replied, which was true enough.

“Good,” she said, her expression hardening. “Then I will speak freely. Boy, what have you done?”

The question hit me like a brick to the face. I opened my mouth to respond, but before I could get out a word, she continued.

“Listen. My agreement with Alex was simple. I helped him help the dead move on, and if we were lucky we also brought a bad guy or two to justice. But what I saw in that hallway, that was neither of those things. So, you need to give me a reason, right now, as to why I shouldn’t slap cuffs on you.”

Naomi spoke with the kind of intensity that made me believe she would actually do it, and frankly, she had a good point.

Explaining that I’d killed a man because he was a monster was going to be a tough sell. I needed to pull out any strings I had to get her back at my side, even if that connection through Alex under the bus.

“I know what happened to Sharon,” I blurted. There was no turning back now.

Her reaction changed instantly. Her posture stiffened, her eyes narrowed with confusion that quickly darkened into something anger.

“How do you know about Sharon?” she asked, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.

“Alex mentioned her in one of his videos,” I said, knowing full well what I was doing.

Her expression darkened. I could see the veins in her forehead start to bulge in anger at the sudden realization that Alex had betrayed her trust.

“That was not his story to tell,” she said quietly, each word dripped with restrained anger.

“I know,” I said quickly. “But Naomi, it wasn’t her fault. They lied to...”

“Stop,” she interrupted, her voice cracked. Her hands trembled and a few tears started to trickle down her cheek. “Do you have any idea how many months I spent hoping that one day I’d walk into this place and see her smile again? How many nights I stayed awake, wondering if there was something I missed, something I could’ve done differently?”

I kept my mouth shut and waited while she continued to talk.

“Every morning I wake up and have to remind myself she’s gone,” she continued, her voice barely above a whisper. “Gone, and it’s my fault. I failed her and I failed her children. And now you’re standing here, dredging all that up. Please, Mr. Raymond. I can’t take false hope. I can’t.”

When she finished, she wiped the tears away with her hand. I reached out and gently took the other hand in mine. She didn’t pull away, though her grip felt tentative, as if holding on might be just as hard as letting go.

“Naomi,” I said softly, “I’m sorry about what happened. But you need to hear me out. Something is happening here to these patients. Something terrible.”

Her brow furrowed, but she didn’t speak, so I pressed on.

“What I’m saying is, your cousin didn’t snap. She was silenced. Just like everyone in these scrubs.”

Her gaze sharpened. “Silenced how?”

This was it. It was my turn to be vulnerable. Cautiously, I turned my head and pulled back my hair, revealing the scar Dr. Klanderman's needle left behind.

“They did something to our brains. That’s why the nurse freaked out when I started talking again. She believed I was gone forever like the rest of the elopers.”

Naomi leaned in to examine the scar, her perfume tickled my nose. It was a soothing blend of lavender and something citrusy. The smell calmed my nerves and softened the edges of the moment.

“If you check behind the ears of any other elopers, you’ll find the same mark,” I said.

She reached out, brushing her hand over my scar. The touch caused an involuntary shiver to trickle down my spine.

I had a sudden thought about all of the people that were hurt before me. Of the men and women who’s life's turned into an endless world of torture at the hands of this place.

My involuntary shiver caused her to take a step back. I felt her resolve break and her anger quickly transition to regret.

“I’m sorry. I just, well, they said you snapped. That you had some post traumatic stress disorder. I didn’t believe them. I promise, I tried to help you, but every time I got close, I found a dead end.”

“It’s alright, I already heard,” I added. “Murph told me everything.”

“When did you talk to Murph?”

“That’s a long story,” I said. “Listen, I have evidence. If I can get you proof of what they’ve been doing, will you help me take them down?”

Naomi hesitated, then nodded. “I know someone in the courts. If you can get me something solid, I’ll make sure it’s seen.”

“Then you lead and I’ll navigate. We need to get it before someone else does.”

###

Naomi froze mid-step as I guided her to the janitor’s closet. It was clear she had expected something a little more impressive.

“Boy, maybe you have lost it,” she said, “This is just a closet.”

“Or is it?” I asked. I took advantage of the moment because I doubted that I'd get many more opportunities to surprise the detective.

With a quick swipe, I pressed my palm against the hidden button. The faint click of the latch echoed in the quiet, followed by the gentle release of air as the door swung open.

Naomi blinked at the dark hallway, her head tilting slightly as she processed what she was seeing. “Wow, Impressive work young man. You found all this?”

I nodded, then glanced over at Josiah, who lingered at the edge of the hallway, “I'll be honest, It wasn’t all me, I had some help.”

I glanced over, nodding in the direction of my new companion.

She followed my gaze, looking into the emptiness. “Well done, Mr. Raymond,” she said, though her tone carried more pity than praise.

“Thank you,” I replied, “But this is nothing compared to what’s next.”

Naomi nodded, raised her gun to a ready position, and then stepped cautiously into the hall. “Alright then, let’s get this evidence and get out of here. This place gives me the heebie-jeebies.”

“The heebie-jeebies?” I repeated. “What even is that?”

She glanced back at me like I’d just asked her to explain gravity. “You don’t know what the heebie-jeebies are? It’s like… goosebumps.”

“Oh. Why didn’t you just say that?” I replied.

Naomi tried to explain where the saying came from as we moved down the hall, but I found my mind had drifted elsewhere. I had to tell her monsters existed at some point, but I had to find the right way to do it.

Eventually, we reached the door to the storage room. “This is it,” I said, stopping at the entrance.

Naomi pushed open the door, slow and deliberate, her body tense with anticipation. When she finally opened the door, he expression soured. “This is just another closet?”

“Yes,” I said, wheeling inside and pointing to a specific drawer. “But check in that drawer.”

She opened the drawer, her sharp movements slowed by what she found inside: a notebook, thick with handwritten entries, and a pile of needles. Her brow furrowed as she examined them.

“Those needles contain something called Sodium something,” I explained. “I can’t remember the exact name. But I think the street name is truth serum. They used it on me before they operated. It knocks you out and when you wake up you can’t remember anything.”

“That’s horrible, I’m sorry that happened to you.”

“I survived, but I don’t know what information I may have spilled.”

“I see, that’s not ideal.”

Naomi pulled gloves and a plastic evidence bag from her jacket. Then she carefully opened the book. Her eyes scanned the pages. She kept reading until she found a page with a name on it she recognized.

I looked over, noticing the name at the top of the page. It was the page for Sharon Butler.

Her gloved hand pressed against the page as though she could somehow touch the person behind the name. “Oh, Shay Shay,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I’m sorry I didn’t dig deeper.”

I hesitated, then reached out to touch her arm lightly. “Naomi, it’s not your fault. You had no way of knowing. Murph said this place is protected by some pretty big donors. Roche brothers type money.”

She snapped her head toward me, “The Roche brothers? Why would they donate here?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted.

“I see. That might explain why it was so hard for you to get you out of here.”

Naomi closed the book and tucked it, along with the needles, into the evidence bag. Her voice was steady again, but her eyes burned with purpose. “We’ve had open cases on the Roche brothers for years, but nothing ever sticks. If they’re behind this, we need to tread lightly. These men are dangerous.”

I took a breath, knowing this was my last chance to bring her in on the bigger picture.

“There’s one more place I need to show you,” I said.

Her brows lifted. “Another place?”

“Promise you won’t freak out.”

“Do I look like someone who makes promises I can’t keep? Spill it.”

“Okay. I may or may not have locked one of the nurses in a hidden bunker under the cafeteria.”

“You what?”

“She tried to kidnap Courtney. And kill Josiah. And, you know, me.”

Naomi’s eyes narrowed. “She what?”

“She’s part of all this. You’ll see.”

Naomi let out a long breath, her jaw tightening. “Take me to her. Now.”