There’s a flash, and then there’s white– a lot of white.

My first thought is that I’m in Heaven. Crap, but I don’t even believe in God, so this must mean I’m about to get sent somewhere very hot…

But one moment later I realize I’m just in a hospital room. Okay, okay. That’s fine.

There’s a middle-aged woman standing over me, looking at my arm which sears out in pain every time anything touches it.

“Wow… I don’t even understand how this tissue can already– Oh, you’re awake!”

“What… happened to me?”

“Seems like you werewere assaulted out in the streets earlier this evening,” the nurse says. “You took a nasty blow to your head. Do you remember your name?”

“Morgan. Today’s Friday, March 25th. I’m in Cobb County, Atlanta.” I’ve been through this drill before. Unfortunately.

She begins wrapping my arm in bandages, preparing it for a cast.

“Well, Morgan,” she says. “While your phone was recovered intact, your wallet and ID were stolen, so we could not identify you. You will need to fill out this form for us so we can bill you for–” I stop listening to her as she continues to talk about procedure I’m obviously going to ignore.

Jones Burrow. She was the one all along.

The Social Media Killer.

How didn’t we see this coming? It doesn’t make any sense. Well… I guess between my intuition and R8PR’s analysis, we got it ALMOST right… But… where the hell did any of this come from?

And she stole my wallet. That cannot be good. Ugh, I had fifty bucks in there, and my transit pass!

“–and your tissue is healing remarkably well.” She’s still talking, wow. It’s all about my exceptional healing abilities, but I’m in enough pain right now that just the thought that I’m better than a normal human annoys me.

She slips my cast on, and from this point on I am deprived of the ability to itch my left hand. “I would recommend wearing your cast for the next few weeks, but only as a precaution. I can’t really explain how your wounds have already sealed and–”

“I’m sorry,” I say. “To you I’m just some anonymous person who wandered into an emergency room. I’m really grateful for your help, but you know I’m not going to pay for the ridiculous hospital fees and I’m just going to leave.”

The nurse nods. “I understand.”

I get up and put on my shirt. “Thank you for this cast though.”

“You know, I noticed scar tissue on your head. It isn’t fresh. If you’re doing something dangerous, you really need to cut it out, or you could cause some serious trouble to your brain, Morgan.”

“Trust me, I know.”

I look in my shirt pocket and see a gaping hole inside. Oh, geez.

Now what do I have, four wearable shirts?

I’m glad she didn’t snatch my phone, because I need to call Karina. We’re going to have to have an emergency meeting with R8PR. Now.