The sound of my footsteps echoed throughout the sprawling medical ward. The facility was magnificently open and constructed of marble and stone, sharply contrasting the warm tones and wood furniture of the psychiatric wing.

I delved ever deeper into the building as I began to briskly walk out of the large foyer. With each doorway I passed, the walls became less extravagant, and windows became less frequent. Even though I had decided to make my way into the medical ward under daylight in disguise rather than quietly in the night, it seemed to matter little. Every door was closed, and every hall was barren.

Remembering the map, I had little need to search every room. I knew where Price was being held, and all I needed to do was free him.

My heart raced in anxiety as I thought about releasing Price. Once he was out, there was no more discretion or secrecy. Our time for stealth and disguises would be over.

As I moved ever further down the corridor, I heard mumbling and a bizarre humming coming from the end of the hall. I continued to the door, voices becoming clear.

Dr. Prescott was in the room, talking with an older man I did not recognize. Their voices spoke above the queer humming and metal scraping against metal.

I slowly crept behind the door and listened in. Dr. Prescott was the first to speak.

“It has been months, and yet he has made little progress. You promised faster results, Kester.”

The old man replied in a rasped and wheezing voice. “There have been… Unexpected setbacks... I assure you; this is the only way he can be rehabilitated in time.”

With that, my curiosity got the better of me. I slowly peered past the door I had hidden behind and was granted view into the room.

Dr. Prescott and a feeble doctor were conversing with one another next to a monolithic metal machine. Strapped to a chair in the center of said machine was Price, involuntarily convulsing in rhythmic harmony with the turning of metal and electric humming.

Dr. Prescott looked different than when I last saw him. He was tired and pale. Stressed. He inspected Price and spoke once more to the old doctor beside him in an impatient tone. “Then he better be prepared on time. We cannot afford any more delays, and if your grand theories for rehabilitation lose us this opportunity, there will be consequences…”

The old and sneering doctor shot back, offended. “Do not speak to me about theories, Edward. We spent years working under your slow boil tactics, only for the entire project to nearly crumble.”

Dr. Prescott winced in anger for a moment, then collected himself. “Do not forget your failings, Kester. I was the one that brought this together after you botched your chance with the previous Chatwood.” He then paused, taking a sharp breath in. The words he breathed out were harsh and underlined with a type of wrath I had never seen emanate from him before. “Do you understand the gravity of your mistake? The punishment you would have received if I had not convinced them to spare you? Have you forgotten why I’m now in control?” The old doctor nodded timidly in remembrance. Dr. Prescott was not satisfied with that answer, so he leaned in closely and spoke in a growl. “I said, do you understand?”

The old doctor whispered out. “Yes… Sir.”

With that, Dr. Prescott swiveled on his heel and moved to the door. I nearly forgot that I was in hiding as he grew ever closer.

My lack of forethought left me in an empty hallway with nowhere to hide. My only option was to stand behind the swinging door and pray Dr. Prescott’s anger made him oblivious of his surroundings.

I held my breath as the door opened and Dr. Prescott strutted into the hall. With a great amount of luck, it seemed my hopes were answered. Dr. Prescott passed without noticing me in his frustration.

After he had left the hallway completely, I allowed myself to breathe a sigh of relief.

The first question I asked myself after I gathered myself was a curious one. Previous Chatwood?

I had to assume they were talking about my mother, which meant that the old doctor in there was the one that drove her mad. Just what did he do to achieve such a thing? What information was I missing?

Setting that aside for the time being, I moved back towards the crease in the doors to peek through once again. The old doctor had pulled a chair next to the machine Price was partially entombed in, and he had begun to jot down notes in an old journal.

After a minute, he opened a panel on the machine and flipped a multitude of switches. The electric humming subsided as the muffled screaming quieted. The pain in Price’s eyes were replaced with recognition now that he had regained his wits. The old doctor left his cranium connected to the strange construct but removed the wooden gag from Price’s mouth.

With a glance at his notes, Kester spoke. “How do you feel now, Finnigan? Any better?”

Price shook with anger and defiance. It looked like a thousand different words crossed his mind as he furiously stared down the old doctor. Eventually, he decided on not giving an answer, and instead spat on the old man’s face.

With a deep sigh, the old doctor forced the gag back into place and initiated the machine once more, resigning Price to his torture.

He went back to his journal as if nothing happened, writing sporadically whilst switching his attention between it and Price.

I began to creep into the room. While not wanting to resort to violence, I found no other option for the old doctor before me. With all the evil he had done, I did not value his wellbeing more than Price’s.

Once I was close enough to the old doctor, I pounced on him. I had no hard object like my debacle with the guard, so I simply had to strangle the consciousness out of him.

That was harder said than done, though. Even while old and feeble, the doctor was hard to keep still.

Nonetheless, I eventually wrapped my hands around his neck and began to squeeze; Counting the seconds as they went by.

Ten.

Twenty.

Thirty seconds. Forty. Fifty. Sixty. Seventy.

And then, he went still.

I let go of him and rose to my feet. As I did, I noticed his chest began to slowly rise and fall once more. I wasn’t sure leaving him alive was the best choice, but I did not have it in me to finish the job while he was no longer a threat. I had only killed a man once before, and the crypt crawler was barely one at that.

I moved my attention to Price, who was still in pain. Walking to the machine he was connected to; I opened the metal panel.

There were many nobs and levers, but few that concerned me. I had just seen the old doctor release Price, which made replicating his actions quite simple… Hopefully.

A few anxiety-ridden flips of switches later, and the machine was out of order. Once it fully come to a stop, I looked over to Price. His eyes had rolled out from the back of his skull and were now taking in the surroundings.

While everyone else I had helped had a cloudy and uncertain air about them, Price seemed keen and alert. He vigilantly glared at me as I slowly took my hands from the machine.

In his eyes was clarity, yes, but I also saw anger. A raging fire within him as he scowled at me, and the reason for such fury was yet to be known by me.

I cautiously removed the gag from his mouth, letting him speak.

Weakly, Price muttered out. “Filthy betrayer…”

“W-What?” I stammered out in shock. Did they do something to Price to make him think I was against him somehow? “What do you mean? I’ve never betrayed you.”

“You’ve been with them this whole time, I bet. You stink like a liar, Chatwood.” Price growled out. “You get admitted to the hospital, and then they all start calling us in. Giving us poison. Making us forget…”

I was at a loss, but I supposed that Price’s assumptions were reasonable to have. After all he had been through, it made sense that he would be untrusting. “I swear, Price. I had no clue where I even was but just a few days ago. We’re in the same boat.”

Price scoffed. “You’re just like him. Making yourself seem frail and pitiful when in reality you’re just a parasite. I don’t believe you for one second.”

“Who are you talking about?” I questioned, in both a mix of baffled curiosity and hopes that getting him talking would give me insight on his change in personality.

Price paused for a moment when I asked him that, as if offended that I dare bring up an individual that he referenced first. After that short glimpse of vulnerability, his demeanor went stony once more. All he muttered out was “If you aren’t working with them, why won’t you let me out?”

I could see Price had no more intention of talking, so I simply had to hope that releasing him was a large enough gesture to be deemed trustworthy.

Slowly, I unstrapped his head from the metal helmet he was connected to, and then unbonded him from the leather straps that kept his hands and legs to the chair.

As the last strap was undone, Price immediately jumped from his seat. I was a fool to believe that I would gain his trust by letting him free, and instead found myself immediately rammed into the far wall of the room.

Price used one arm to keep me pinned as the other reared back for a punch. I held my hands up in defense, but Price was both stronger and quicker than I. While I may have blocked the first hit, he had already swung a second time before I could bring my arms back into position. My defenses crumbled within seconds.

There was nothing but to accept that after all the tribulations that I had undergone, my journey was going to end at the very hands of the person I was trying to save.

One hit glanced off my cheekbone. The next hit my jaw, causing me to bite a considerable portion of the inside of my mouth. Another hit, and another, and another. My head began to swim as blood swelled the injured areas of my face.

All I could do at that point was simply mutter out. “Please.”

Price reared his fist back once more, then paused. His arm hung in the air as the adrenaline began to leave his system. The furrowed brow he once had began to give way to a distraught frown. Finally, Price let go of my collar and stepped back.

He dropped to the floor and sat, whispering. “I-I’m sorry…” He brushed his messy orange hair back. “I, uh, don’t know what came over me…”

Taking a moment to regain my breath and wipe the blood off my lip, I questioned. “Why? Why would you attack me?”

He looked back at the chair, then repeated himself. “I’m sorry… I had been lied to so many times I didn’t know what to think. Prescott betrayed me, my brother betrayed me, and everything looked like you had betrayed me as well.” He then apologized for another time, still distraught with the realization of what he had done, starkly contrasting his usually tough demeanor. “Sorry.”

“Your brother?” I asked.

Price thought for a moment when I said that, looking stoically into the distance. After a long bout of hesitation, he looked back to me. Whether for his own peace of mind or because he felt he owed it to me, Price obliged my question. “A long while back, at my home… There was a famine.” He swallowed back a bit of anxiety. “It was a troublesome time for us. Our port had grown derelict, and our farms were empty. To top it all off, we had a young lad. Only five.” Price sighed. “We lived with our brother and made it work, that was, until the boy got sick…”

Price stopped talking and instead looked into the distance once more. Our time was short, though, and my patience was not as long as it was before he hit me so many times. I prompted him to go on. “What happened?”

He looked back at me and thought for a moment, then continued. “We had no money for medicine, but we fed him all we could… No matter how hard we tried he only got weaker, and thinner.” Price shifted in his seat. “Turned out my dear brother helped himself as soon as we would leave the room… While my boy went hungry, he got fat…” Price’s expression of despair then turned to one of anger. “That bastard betrayed me, and you know the worst part? The coroner said my son didn’t die of pneumonia…” Price choked up for a moment, then finished. “It was starvation…”

I was a bit taken aback by what Price had said. He seemed to be a man with losses, but I never expected something so dire. In the end, I was glad he had told me such a thing. If he was willing to reveal that, then my worries of him turning once more and no longer trusting me were quelled.

Price cleared his throat, then answered the question I had yet to even ask. “I killed him. Left on my boat and never came back.” He then continued to look me over, and once again his harsh exterior crumbled for but a brief moment. “He would’ve been your age…”

And this time, I was the one giving condolences. “I’m sorry…”

By the time the words left my mouth, Price’s gruff persona had returned. “Don’t. Being sorry about it won’t help us get out of this situation.”

Since my worries about Price being untrusting once more were gone, I extended my hand. Helping him up, I brought my attention back to the plan. “Alright then. Everyone else is back on their feet except Hughes. Once we have him out, we can leave.” I still had the intention of finding Dr. Prescott’s journal and figuring out what happened, but that wasn’t something I would force the others to risk themselves for.

“It won’t be so easy.” Price said. “Whatever they’re up to, the law is in on it. They’ll hunt us down and bring us right back.”

“How do you know all that?” I asked simply.

Price looked around for a moment, culminating his story into something short enough to fit his curt nature. “I spat out what they gave me long before you did. I ran out the door and went to the police… One thing led to another, and that’s how I got put in this chair.” He gestured to the electric device whilst explaining, then looked back to me. “There’s something more here, Chatwood. We’re… Special.”

I thought on his words for a good long moment. If the police really were so fervently on their side, then there was no use splitting us up. The best bet was having us all figure out why we were so important before fleeing. “Then we go pay Dr. Prescott a visit. Learn why we’re special straight from the source. After that, we can make a better plan of escape.”

Price nodded. “Looks like there are little options besides that. We stick together, then.”

I reemphasized his words in agreement. “We stick together.”

One more piece for the puzzle to be complete. One last breath before the veil is let down.