"Is she okay?" Morgan, with his phone pressed up against his ear, worriedly paces back-and-forth in the wide corridor on the hospital's third floor. A question he has found himself asking one too many times tonight. He pauses as he listens to Taylor on the other end. "I should have stayed with her. Yeah. What about you? Are you okay?"

Taylor had already filled him in on what had happened, including Riley's discussion with Casey after the attack. Morgan surprisingly took the news well considering he was the one who swore the group to secrecy.

But now, it's like everything around them is slowly ripping apart by its seams. Sooner or later, more than likely the former, the past will catch up to him. Just like it has to everyone else. Although he would rather not get arrested—again—he values his life more than his reputation. Sighing, he remembers once when he considered those two traits to be hand-in-hand.

"I don't blame her though. Let me know how it goes." Morgan turns his head when he hears the slight sound of metal rattling, glancing into the open room across the hall. In the room, a thin curtain is pulled halfway around the hospital bed and, on top of it, he sees the shadow of a figure that is lying down attempt to sit up. Something is stopping them. "Hey, I think she's waking up. Yeah, I'll be home later. See you then. Be careful."

After a couple of seconds, Morgan shoves his phone into his pocket and hurriedly walks into the room. He approaches the curtain, hearing the rattling grow louder on the other side as the person struggles to sit up. He grabs the side of the curtain and slowly pulls it through the rod on the ceiling, pushing it to the side to reveal Paige lying down on the bed.

She twists her head to face him, her lips chapped and cheeks paler than ever to the point where she nearly blends in with the bleak hospital gown she is wearing. She tugs at her arms again, the leather straps tightly bound around her wrists and legs restrain her from moving much as she makes another attempt to sit up in the bed. The chains connected to the straps rattle on the metal bars bordering the bedside. On each of her wrists is a fresh bandage wrapped tightly and covered with gauze.

"Morgan?" She asks, confused. "What is this?"

"Stop. You're going to break your stitches." Morgan lightly grabs her wrist to push it back down to the stiff mattress, staring at her with sorrow as he leans over the bed. She glances down at the bandages on her wrists. "I brought you to the hospital. Do you remember what happened?"

"Of course I remember." Her head tilts back up to face him and she pulls at the restraints yet again. "I don't want to be here. I don't want to be here!"

His eyes widen and he looks around the room, as if trying to signal a nurse that isn't there, and lightly grabs her shoulders in an attempt to hold her down. "Hey, relax! You'll be out of here in no time! It's just—they had to put those on you. Just in case."

"No!" She screams, thrusting her shoulders forward in an attempt to escape his grip. "You don't get it! I don't want to be here!"

Peering into her eyes, he immediately knows what she means. She's not under the influence or losing her mind. He knows her. By here she means this world.

"You should have left me to die." She snarls, looking up at him with hatred—more so for herself however, not him.

"Don't say that."

She shakes her head, pulling at the restraints again and this time with more force. The chain rattling against the rod must be significantly louder, as he can hear footsteps approaching from the hall as a pair of nurses rush their way.

As the two nurses enter the room, Paige continues to focus directly on Morgan. One squeezes past him to check on her bandages, making sure her cuts are not bleeding through, as the other unlocks a high cabinet above the sink to pull out a small vial of a sedation drug along with a syringe.

Paige turns away from them, drawing her attention to the window on the wall to her left. Although it's now daybreak and the sun has risen, glaring in through the slits in the closed blinds she can't help but feel surrounded by nothing but pure darkness.

The needle pierces the skin in her upper arm but she doesn't flinch, not feeling a thing. As she speaks, her voice is shattered. Nothing more than a hollow echo forced out of her throat. "That wasn't your call to make."

Her eyelids twitch before they slowly draw shut. The high dosage must have immediately kicked in, tranquilizing her.

Morgan backs up to get out of their way, watching as one of the nurses checks the numbers illuminating from the monitor. After setting the syringe aside, the other nurse examines Paige's left arm to see if the IV is still inserted properly. Feeling his legs grow weak, he leans his back against the wall as he stares unabatedly forward. In this moment, he has no idea what to do.

Clicking a button on the touchpad, Kris waits patiently as it takes her laptop a moment to load up the website. By dragging her finger slowly down, she scrolls through the website for Vinyl Confessions and is already impressed by the homepage alone. She clicks a button on the navigation bar that reads 'Gallery'.

By the professional photographs of the studio—or one of the many studios in its apparently huge building—she can tell immediately that it is a legitimate record label. Another click on the bottom right of her touchpad and she finds herself looking at a page flooded with the hot new artists at the label, advertising not only their social media pages but their tour dates as well.

She smiles, delighted that out of all of the talented people out there... they chose her. Part of her still finds it unbelievable, as if she were to show up and a camera crew would emerge to reveal it was all an elaborate prank set up by Jesse.

But she knows better. Not only is she sure that he wouldn't go through the intricate lengths to do such a cruel act, but what would really be the point in all of that? That's just her mind automatically processing the old 'too good to be true' motto she often follows. She knows, deep down, that she needs to listen to him and stop second guessing herself.

She drags the cursor up to the top of the webpage and clicks on another tab to pull up her e-mail. It loads immediately, as she was already in the middle of typing a message and the auto-saved draft is pulled up on her screen. It's the e-mail Jesse forwarded her from the record label and, in response, she's sending them a message back telling them how amazing it would be to work with them. She types another sentence to finish the paragraph and ends it with her contact information, before pulling the cursor to hover over the 'Send' button.

Her finger lowers down to click it and, conflicted, she stops. Her so-called reasoning, although it is rather guilt really, begins to kick in as she realizes again that now isn't the time for this. With everything going on, she can't just abandon her family and friends to chase after some dream.

After all, isn't that all it is? A dream.

Kris clicks a button on the touchpad and, instead of sending the e-mail, she deletes it.

♫ ʙᴇᴀᴜᴛɪғᴜʟ ᴛʜɪɴɢs / sᴏᴡᴇᴄᴀɴғʟʏ ♫