The rusted gears on the automatic doors squeak loudly as the two thick blocks of glass pull apart, Morgan quickly dashing inside and cutting through the hospital waiting room to approach the front desk. Deputy Bennett's squad car, Morgan's former taxi, pulls away from the front entrance as he drives back the way he came through the winding lane in the parking lot.

An older man, presumably homeless by the length of his filthy Duck-Dynasty-inspired beard and the way he's dressed, coughs into his grease-slathered hands as he watches Morgan intensely from a seat in the middle row. This is probably the closest thing he's had to watching a television drama in years.

"How can I help you?" The elderly receptionist asks, peering up from her desktop computer that looks like it's from the nineties. She pushes her glasses back up her crooked nose, the thin frame wobbling with each slight move she makes.

"I'm here to see my sister." He wheezes, out of breath from bolting up the outside steps.

"Taylor Chase?"

"Yeah." He lifts an eyebrow, not recognizing the woman from anywhere. "How'd you know?"

"I'm psychic." She says sarcastically as she lifts herself up from the leather chair, which is nearly as tired and wrinkled as her face, and walks out from behind the desk to lead him to the hallway. She sips from her Styrofoam coffee cup as she points with her right pinky finger, not going any further. "They moved her out of ICU last night. Go straight down the hallway, then take the second right. Room 164."

He nods and quickly turns to the hall.

"Oh and sweetie, no running." Her tone is as if she is nagging at one of her grandchildren. Slowly, she sets the coffee next to her keyboard and eases her frail body back down in her chair. "I really don't feel like filing anymore paperwork tonight."

Sighing, he turns back to hurriedly walk down the wide hallway. He passes several vacant rooms, only seeing two patients out of the lot, and the first intersecting corridor. As he approaches the second, he sharply turns the corner and comes to a sudden halt. Standing just a few feet away are his parents talking to one of the doctors.

His mother, normally obsessed with appearances, is a distraught mess. She struggles to keep her sorrowful eyes open, holding a wadded-up tissue up to her running nose as she tries to hold back the tears. The maroon sweater she is wearing is far too loose for her gaunt figure, probably something she tossed on when they were heading out the door. A large plastic clip holds her dark brown wavy hair back behind her thin neck.

Morgan's eyes gaze over to his father, who is already giving him a cold stare. Eyes narrowed, jaw clenched, emotionless. That's how his father always looks, even under the most pressing matters. He also wears a raggedy shirt along with his house shorts and doesn't feel the slightest bit ashamed. How he can manage to be so tranquil in this situation is beyond Morgan.

"One of the main arteries was severely severed, hence the blood loss, but we did check and make sure that there was little nerve damage." The doctor finishes.

"Oh god, Morgan!" His mother hurriedly glides over to him and pulls him in for a tight hug. "They released you? Why didn't you call?"

"Hey, Mom." Morgan pats her on the back and she pulls back, lightly touching at his cheeks as if he were the one that just escaped death.

Behind her, his father stands stern in front of the doorway with his arms crossed. "Son."

"Father." Morgan says mockingly. There's clearly tension between the two. He glances over to the open door, seeing a small metallic sign reading the number 164 posted to the right of its doorframe. "Is she...?"

"Yes, she is." His mother smiles. "Go ahead. We'll be out here talking to the doctor."

He steps inside the room and, not expecting a reunion, immediately wants to turn around and walk back out. Riley and Casey share a seat they pulled up next to the front of Taylor's bed, Casey sitting in his lap as she leans over to tell Taylor something. Near the wall running opposite of them Marc rests his head on the arm of his chair as he talks to Millie, sitting in the one next to him. His head drifts up and down, his dreary eyes on the verge of shutting any minute now. It's clear he didn't get much, if any, sleep last night. Behind them is an odd pairing, Paige and Kris standing near the window as the two laugh over a story Paige is telling. It's odd to see her so... benign and happy. And Kris, Morgan still has yet to speak a single word to her. And he'd like to keep it that way. Behind them, the sun glares in through the open blinds. Taylor has been here for almost an entire day now.

"Hey, man." Riley says, looking over from the other side of the bed. All heads turn to Morgan. "About time they let you out."

"I know right." Morgan sighs, looking around awkwardly.

Feeling the need to apologize on her father's behalf, Millie lifts herself up from her seat as she fumbles with her hands nervously. "Sorry. About my dad and the arrest..."

"It's alright. It looked bad." He glances around at the people gathered in the room, as if preparing to make a presentation, and stops just before he reaches Kris. "I just want to move on with my life. Like everyone else."

He turns around, locking eyes with Taylor. She wants to speak up and apologize for the way she acted at the police station, for having even the smallest doubt that what he was telling her was a lie. But, with just one look, he can sense her guilt and the two come to an unspoken amend.

"Hey." She says, sitting up in her bed.

"Hey, sis. How you holdin' up?" His eyes gaze down to her bandaged hand and, as concern sweeps over his face, he quickly approaches the bedside. "Oh god. What did that sick fuck do to you?"

"It's okay." She pulls her hand back and slips it under the sheets, not wanting to talk about the attack. It's hard enough to get it off her mind without everyone harassing her about it every other second. "I'll live."

"Uhh, correction. You barely lived." Casey sighs, shaking her head. She openly speaks what is on each of their minds. "You could have died, Tay. You were almost this creep's next victim. Nothing about this is okay."

Riley tugs her closer in and rests his head on her shoulder, whispering softly in her ear in an attempt to calm her. "Hey."

"No!" She lifts herself up from Riley's lap and leans against the wall behind him next to the IV rack. Finding it unbelievable how they can be so nonchalant, she looks around the room as everyone stares her way. "Some nut job is out there picking off our friends and classmates one-by-one. Who knows, who cares really, what this freak's reason is behind this... But guys, we can't just sit back and pretend like this is nothing."

"What do you want me to do?" Taylor asks aggressively, her attempt to suppress her emotions failing. "Follow the bread crumbs back to his lair?"

Casey turns to her, letting out a deep sigh. "No. I'm not saying we bust out the torches and go on a manhunt. But we can't just ignore what is happening. More people will die!"

"We do need to do something." Kris speaks up. Morgan glances her way but, the second their eyes meet, quickly looks to the side. "So far the killings seem random. But I mean, if we try to think about it from the killer's perspective, maybe we—"

"The killer's perspective?" Paige interjects, turning to glare at Kris. So much for benign. "For once I agree with Casey. Who gives a shit what is going through this crazed person's mind? He's a maniac!"

Paige turns back to the group, startled at the words that had just came out of her mouth. Did she just say that she agreed with Casey?

"Freaking out isn't going to help us either." Riley says, feeling Casey's betrayed glare burning into this back of his neck. "Let's just talk calmly and figure out the next thing we need to do."

Nodding, and now fully awake, Marc sits up in his chair attentively. He watches as Morgan and Taylor exchange worried looks. "Yeah. If we put our heads together then maybe we can figure out what this person wants. What their motive is. Their goal. If we figure that out, then we're one step closer to figuring out who is under that mask."

Paige's phone buzzes from her back pocket and she pulls it out, a smile spreading on her face as she sees that it's a text from Kira. 'Sleepover tonight?'

'what time?' Paige asks, staring at her phone as she waits for a response.

Kira responds immediately. 'Whenever :) I'll leave the door unlocked.'

"Is there any connection between the victims?" Millie makes sure to specifically look at Taylor when asking the question, as if directing it her way.

By her gaze, Taylor can't tell whether or not she knows more than she's letting on. But how could she possibly know about the accident? "No. Not that I know of."

"Nope." Morgan backs her up, shaking his head. At this point, lying is like a natural survival instinct for them.

Noticing the time on her phone as she sends another text, Paige glances through the blinds to see darkness has cast through the near empty parking lot. Drama and murder, oh how it can make the time fly. She turns to Morgan. "Hey, do you think you can give me a ride somewhere?"

He nods. "Sure."

"I'm Kris by the way." Kris gives Morgan a short wave with her hand, seizing the moment to introduce herself. "Nice to meet you, even under the circumstances."

Morgan turns to her and freezes. His eyes widen as, instead of seeing Kris, he sees her baby brother peering up at him. Daniel, his skin a pale off-white color as it flakes and cracks like that of an old porcelain doll, stares at him with lifeless, dull eyes. He tilts his head, exposing a wound on his scalp that slowly tears open. Thick coagulated blood, the color of black ink, begins to seep down his forehead and drip from his eyebrows to the tiled floor beneath his feet. He smiles, exposing shattered teeth ripping through his upper gums.

Petrified, Morgan closes his eyes and aims his head at the ceiling. This can't be happening. He takes a deep breath and opens his eyes, slowly gazing back down to see a confused Kris looking his way. He looks down at her feet, ensuring there's no blood on the floor. As he lifts his head back up, his face flushes a faint red in a mixture of humiliation and guilt.

"Morgan?" Paige cocks an eyebrow, unsure of what the hell is going on. She has seen him in his worst state, several times actually, but never like this.

"I'm Morgan. Nice to meet you." He slurs, quickly turning away to face Paige. "Are you ready?"

She nods, unsure of whether or not she's comfortable with him behind the wheel at the moment.

With a slight crook of his neck, he gestures for her to follow as he turns around and makes a straight line for the door. He stops at the doorway, looking at Taylor. "I'll be back."

Picking up on his frenzied state, and perhaps in one of her own, Taylor smiles uneasily. "Okay."

"Bye." Paige reaches over to give her a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder before following Morgan out the door.

Taylor glances at the window across from the bed, staring into the dusk through the black sheet of glass tucked behind the blinds as thoughts scramble through her mind. Maybe the murders are not as random as they appear. Maybe, just maybe, the killer is targeting those close to the people involved in the accident that night. But why? As a form of punishment? It doesn't make sense. Then again, can one really make sense out of a deranged series of murders?

Gulping, she looks over at Kris. Her eyes shift to Millie, then at Casey and Riley, before finally settling on Marc.

If that's the case... Anybody could be next.

♫ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏʙᴏᴅʏ ʟɪᴇs / ᴊᴀsᴏɴ ᴡᴀʟᴋᴇʀ ♫