"Hey, Mark," the guy greeted casually, having suddenly zoomed up to my side and then slowed to match my pace.

"Hey," I answered absentmindedly.

"So how's her highness today?" he chuckled, referring to the psychiatrist, Dr. Stokes.

I shrugged my shoulders. My heart wasn't in the conversation for several reasons, but the greatest was the fact that directly after lunch, I might be facing McGraff again and I had no idea what to expect or do. Of course, that was granted my medicine didn't work which I was reluctant to believe it would. The dreams had returned before I had even gone to Hell so surely now, the second spirit inhabiting my body would further influence my mind toward sleeping hallucinations.

The man walking with me was pretty young, maybe twenty. That made me about almost a decade older. He was mid-height, same as me, but with a light brown complexion and dark eyes. He was also pretty thin like I was and his exceedingly friendly personality seemed sincere. We had met my first day here when he saw me just sitting at a table and poking at the food on my plate. He had grabbed his own tray from the table where he'd been chatting with two female patients and made his way to where I was.

Even though I was clearly alone, he had asked if the seat was claimed before taking the one in front of me. I didn't really respond. I may have shrugged, but couldn't remember. He sat anyway and told me his name was Devin. He was a talkative son of a bitch and had carried the entirety of the dialogue. In fact, I don't recall having said anything to him during it at all.

Still, he kept at it. He'd occasionally ask questions and when he received no reply, would answer them himself. For example, at one point, he inquired as to why I was in the hospital, and then turned around and said, "Yeah, I know it's hard to believe, but I actually have a pretty bad problem with my temper. I feel like I'm better than I used to be though."

According to Devin, he had a chemical imbalance similar to major depressive disorder except instead of making him saddened, he was easily agitated. And he was right, seeing him act the way he did these past couple of days, it didn't seem truthful, especially with how much he appeared to enjoy spending time with others.

Yet apparently, what had brought him in was a fight with his sister's boyfriend. Well, maybe fight was the wrong word. Basically, he was staying with the two of them as he hadn't been able to maintain a place of his own. Devin was having 'an off day,' as he had described it.

After a day of job-hunting, he came into the kitchen where his sister was and grabbed a beer. She had made a comment about how he really should cut down the drinking to help him stay level. Devin had complained that it was only one beer; she had said it always starts with just one; and when he bitched back, she just dropped it.

However, her boyfriend came home and when he heard about the spat, he approached Devin saying he didn't want any more alcohol in his home. "I remember saying something to the effect of how I wasn't an irresponsible drinker, but after that, I blacked out," Devin had told me. "The next thing I knew, I was holding the guy against the wall and his face was bleeding. I think I may have broken his nose."

He had kept a chipper attitude through the whole story, making it a bit unbelievable or at least like it didn't bother him despite how it had only happened a few days prior to my visit to Daytonsville. Thinking on it later, I wondered if his cheeriness was a defense-mechanism and he did feel badly for what happened.

He could just be good at remaining positive. At any rate, his sister had called the cops and, having his disorder documented, he was sent to the ward for medication adjustment after a night in lockup.

"It looks like I may be getting out tomorrow," Devin spoke again once we had reached the activity room in silence.

"Oh?" I finally said, "You have a court date set?"

"Nah, Sheila phoned me and said Derrick wasn't going to press charges," he explained, "So it looks like I'll be a free man. Haha!"

I stopped walking and looked over at him, "They're not going to let you back there though, are they?"

The man's smile faded momentarily, but was back before he replied, "Eh. I'll find somewhere else to go. I've lived on the streets a lot so I'm pretty resourceful."

I knew the guy had problems. Breaking someone's nose because they didn't want you drinking in their house when you weren't even paying rent was certainly uncalled for. Nonetheless, I wanted to help him out. If what the doctor had said was true, then I should be able to keep my place.

I didn't like the idea of him being homeless when he had come off as nothing except kind. But then my paranoia kicked in. Maybe he was really adept at positivity because it was how he survived. People like me and his sister felt badly for such a nice guy having trouble so we helped him out.

"Fuck yeah!" Devin's abrupt cheer shook me from scrutinizing his character, "Food's here early."

My gaze followed his to where he was watching two orderlies, accompanied by a nurse, rolling in the covered shelves that carried our lunch trays. After them, I saw the rest of the patients in the ward coming in and lounging about in the common area- some at tables, some on the couches- to wait for their name to be called.

It was another part of the procedure to keep an eye on everyone. Nobody could technically be forced to take their lunch, but if you didn't show to get it, the absence was recorded on your chart as you not committing to treatment and nurses were sent to find what you were up to instead.

I strolled away from Devin and found a table while he hovered around the staff members, and talked to them while waiting. I noticed that they didn't really say much back to him, but the female orderly and the male nurse did keep grinning. It wasn't long before my name was called and I retrieved my food and then not long after, Devin was given his and he joined me.

The meal, consisting of green beans, roast, sweet tea, and a slice of yellow cake, was less appetizing than it sounded. Nonetheless, I wolfed down most of it while my fellow inmate chatted between bites.

"Christ, Mark, maybe next time you won't starve yourself!" the man next to me laughed.

I swallowed the chunk of dessert in my mouth, "Yeah, maybe..." I trailed, realizing that my food was almost gone and I was meant to try and sleep next.

"So are you actually going to do it?" Devin's voice sounded suddenly serious, throwing me off guard.

"What?" my head shot up, brow furrowing.

"Are you actually going to sleep?" he clarified with a small chuckle though he still seemed solemn.

"Oh. I, uh, yeah. I'm gonna try," my head hung again.

There was a short pause.

"Why didn't you want to sleep anyway?" the man cut himself a bite of cake with his plastic fork.

Not wanting to sound like a nutcase, yet eager for any advice before going into battle, I formulated a half-truthful answer, "I feel like there's someone out to get me. Someone specific, someone I know, I mean," I added quickly, "Not just some random person out there, you know?"

"Well, unless they work here, they'll be hard-pressed to get to you while you're admitted," Devin stated logically, without missing a beat.

"No, they don't work here," I wasn't sure how to go about this, "They're not exactly...real? I guess. I mean, they were, but..."

"Ohhh, I see," the man hummed understandingly, causing me to look back up, "You got a ghost after you, Mark?"

Oh wow. Maybe this was going to be easier than I thought, "Yeah. I see him in my dreams. He used to be...violent when he was alive."

"Family?" Devin inquired.

I shook my head.

"Hm. Does he want something from you?" the inquisition continued.

"I don't know," I confessed.

"Well, a good place to start is figuring that out," Devin smiled again.

"Yeah, I guess, but what if he tries to hurt me? or someone else?" I took the chance at revealing a little more, somewhat comforted by Devin's non-judgmental behavior.

"Well, they," he jutted a finger back over his shoulder, "Would say ghosts can't hurt you. That they're there for you to learn something or some bullshit. But if you believe in ghosts, you probably believe in ghost-hunters and you know, there's a lot of those guys who've gotten attacked by ghosts or demons or whatever."

"I do believe in that stuff," I showed a shy smirk, "So how would I go about fighting a ghost or demon then? In my dreams, of course."

"I'm not sure," Devin scrunched his face in thought.

Gee, thanks.

"However," he kept on, re-igniting my hope, "I'd try manipulating your dreams to help you if he tries attacking."

I stared at the man in front of me, contemplating his suggestion while watching him shove two more forkfuls of cake into his mouth. I had honestly never done something like that before. I had heard that it was possible though.

Perhaps with my past experience with astral travel and my newfound experience in communicating with the dead, I could actually accomplish it. Damian had even advised something similar before I entered the Hell realm. Emma had said Ames was able to banish her father's spirit as well. A new thought struck: Ames was going to be pissed at me.

"Woah there. Looks like you got company, bro," Devin laughed, eyeing something behind me.

I twisted in my seat to look back at the door and saw that Dr. Stokes had popped her head into the activity room and was heading our way, "Great," I muttered, rolling my eyes.

"Hey, no worries. Just remember what I said; control your dreaming and figure out what he wants. Ya gotta start somewhere," my consultant beamed genuinely as he rose from his seat and then lifted his tray, "I'll give you guys some privacy then," he added sarcastically as he left.

I sighed loudly in the same instant that the psychiatrist appeared beside me, "It's good to see you managed to eat some. Now how about that nap?"

A weak smile found, but quickly left my face, "Yeah, alright," I said, lifting myself and my tray to begin on my way before I was trapped into any further conversation with the doctor.

"Oh and Mark?" she said just as I started to leave. I turned around hesitantly as she took two steps forward to be close to me, "It's good to make friends, but please focus on your own problems before you invite any more in."

I almost glared. She had to be talking about Devin, "Right, of course," I nodded, not really caring what she had to say about the company I kept. She returned the gesture and I immediately continued on my way.

Once I was out of the communal areas and in my bedroom, I stood and stared at the mattress with its white sheets neatly folded on top even though I had left them in a mess that morning. I glanced back toward the door as footsteps passed. I was tired and now comfortable with a full belly, but I wondered if I'd be able to relax with the noise outside my room.

Another policy in the ward was that doors were required to remain open at all times whilst there were patients alone inside of them. Even showering meant having a nurse nearby to keep an eye and ear out though thankfully, they didn't have to actually watch you bathe. Exhaling strongly, I crawled atop the bed and pulled the sheets over me. Here goes nothing.

Five, ten, then twenty minutes passed and I had done nothing but toss around beneath the covers. I groaned. Come on, Mark, let's just get this over with. I kept getting distracted by random noises from the hallway including laughter and indistinct voices. At the thirty minute mark, a crash and then a yell sounded.

A man screamed something about a faggot needing to get his hands off of him. It was followed by more footsteps and screaming, and then gradually all the sound tapered off. I guess whoever it was got sedated. Knowing about Devin's anger issue, I wondered at first if it was him.

Fifty minutes. Yup, this wasn't going to work. Hey, at least I tried. That should look good on my chart if nothing else. I pushed myself up into a seated position before groaning and taking a deep breath. I threw my feet onto the floor, my body following, and strolled out of the room.

It was eerily quiet and looked like the sun had gone down. Maybe more time had passed than I thought. That was my assumption anyway, until I made it down the corridor to the nurses' station. There was nobody around. I peered over the desk, seeing that everything was empty behind.

Wow, someone must have done fucked up to get all of the staff's attention at once. I put my sights on the activity room and made my way in, but it, too, was absent of life. Okay, weird. I walked back out to the hall, turning the corner of the nurses' station to the first bedroom on that wall. I looked at the name tag, double checking to make sure it was Devin's room. Upon seeing the name, I reached out and knocked on the open door.

"Devin? You up?"

"Christ, Mark, you scared me. I was just trying to sleep," his voice answered from inside.

My heart rate began to ease, "Good," I entered the room, flicking on the light switch as I did, "Do you know where everyone's at?" My vision fell upon his bed, the lump of his body hidden under covers pulled all the way over his head, "Devin?" I called again when he didn't move or speak.

Extending an arm, I laid its hand on his covered shoulder and pulled at him, his body suddenly jumping in response to my touch, turning to face me, yet it wasn't him that I saw.

"Hello again, buddy," low, maniacal laughter greeted me as the necromancer's form flew in my direction, causing me to backpedal and trip, falling ass first onto the floor.