It was near midnight when Aiden and Damian woke up both Abigail and Micheal, sneaking into the west wing of the ward. The dark shadows slip and slide past their eyes bringing any sane person to their knees - they had seen everything once before. Sirens outside of the hospital, the only sign that the place was still connected to the outside world, bring them towards the entrance of the ward and screams from the west wing edge them closer and closer towards who they’re looking for.

        His door was carelessly left unlocked as Abigail pulls out a scalpel that was left on an operating board that was put on the front desk. Her small, high pitched giggles fill the room as she repeatedly stabs the poor boy. Blood pools under his sleeping frame on the slab of cotton he calls a bed. Stabbing all of the important organs - the heart, eyes and stomach - Abigail twists the scalpel down his throat watching the blood leak out of his large frame, bursting into a fit of giggles. 

        “Ooh pretty!!” The little girl says dreamily. “It’s so colourful!!” Micheal grimaces. The young girl looks up at him in wonder. “Is something wrong? Did we get the wrong person?” The oldest of the group - Damian, shakes his head. “Did I do something wrong? I’m sorry…” Abigail says worriedly, starting to cry a little. Anyone could feel the anxiety building up in the girl, anyone can feel her guilt. 

        The three boys surround her in comfort as the tears fall down her face as Aiden whispers to her, “No, Abigail, it’s alright. Micheal was just somewhat disgusted with what you made of the boy.” he crouches down to her level, “You did nothing wrong, you killed him and that is what you were supposed to do, no?” Abigail nods, her long wavy hair bouncing with each nod. 

        She raises both of her tiny hands towards Damian, cueing him to pick her up and with ease, the larger male picks up the little girl, small frame hugging tight to his body as Micheal and Aiden cleaning up all of the evidence of them breaking into the room. After cleaning the scalpel and removing all fingerprints off of everything, they quickly rush out of the room, Damian still carrying Abigail in his arms. They bring Abigail into her room and tuck her in, telling her stories about the man who owns the sun and the lady who drives the moon.

        Damian, sitting on the side of Abigail’s bed, slowly stroking her head sighs. “You know, I used to have a younger sister. Her name was Charlotte. She died.” He laughs emotionlessly. Aiden nods. “Yeah, she got killed. In a fire… that I started…” Aiden nods, rubbing circles on his back. “Aiden was close with her, the three of us did everything together and then she died. She freaking died on me!” He raises his voice as Abigail stirs, quickly causing him to quickly lower his voice. She rolls over again showing her asleep face and the trio of boys leave the room. 

        The young girl sleeps silently through the night as the older boys stare into her room at her sleeping figure. It wasn’t a new scenario. They always watched her sleep. It helped them, it helped her. She got the attention she desperately needed and they got the younger sister that they never had or lost. It was getting close to a daily thing and no one thinks anything of it. No one would care about that compared to the death. No one cared about the death. 

        Night passes and the doctors and nurses rush around the ward after finding a patient dead, thinking it was a case of suicide. Dozens of suicide attempts break through in the ward; even by ones without the ideations and thoughts before coming in but the bleak and empty space can really screw with one’s head. The dark hallways and the silent rooms with the occasional ringing and sirens from the outside. Rooms and halls where the group therapy sessions take place are filled with screams and crying, the floor of the bedrooms covered in blood and tears, the ward isn’t a pretty place. 

        Patient #517 never got any special treatments to keep him alive, they tossed the body in the hallway trash can and disregarded any thoughts to clean the blood. It wasn’t long before word spread about a suicide case in the ward, through out the ward and to the outside world, of the first suicide case in that particular ward. Suicide attempts and cases skyrocketed and flooded the hospital and psyche ward. Dozens of people thought that death would be the only way out and, similarly, patient #498 had that same mindset.

- It wasn’t safe there, they weren't safe. It wasn't good for me so I... escaped to say anything. Until I got trapped. Getting trapped isn't fun. You're limited to what they allow of you. Which if it was -- and it was, my family... there is no freedom. It's just a prison. A prison of my -- your thoughts and... I'm scared, They're going to hurt me. Except they can't. They're dead. Why are they dead? What happened to them? Who killed them? Was it me? I'm sorry... I tried. -

        Walking through the hallway, time nearing midnight, patient #498 took the scalpel on the front desk, workers never learning; found the dead body in the hallway and sliced through his stomach. Knife digging clean through the skin and nearing the organ that she was searching for, his intestines. Slicing low enough, she found them and pulled them out of the body with a loud ripping sound, cutting through it to a desired length, four feet, just long enough to be able to hang in from the ceiling beams and it to come low enough to hang herself.