The setting sun set fire to the horizon of Kriptonhurst. With her fingers clamped around the steering wheel, trembling every once in a while, Tahlia came to a dreary realization.

Sometime in school, she'd learnt the term unreliable narrator, a literary phrase associated with narrators of a tale whose words may not be trusted. Whether they're liars, emotionally charged or even mentally unstable; their account of what happens in the story is to always be taken with a grain of salt.

Logan Hunt's words had all been embellished lies, or at least ones that he had meant to be.

However, it all simply couldn't have been a meticulous lie, could it? It just did not seem humanly likely to her. The entire drive Tahlia clawed her brain in desperation for tiny details the psychopath may have let slip unknowingly.

Her jaw locked in anguish, having hit a proverbial brick wall. She stole a quick, agitated glance at the rear view mirror to ensure she wasn't being followed by an agent or something like last time. Westfield was on as high alert as ever, rumors spreading of a nation wide man-hunt for Logan being in the works.

She hadn't heard news about Dean since the morning, but having been left alone with her thoughts for all this while, something in her gut screamed to her that it simply did not feel right. She had every reason to have not an inkling of faith in Dean anymore, yet somehow he did not fit the puzzle. The criminal psychology student in her couldn't help but think of how he just did not fit the profile of a serial killer's accomplice.

Breaking away from those thoughts, she glimpsed at the GPS as she took the turn that lied ahead, going only a few feet on the road before she pressed down on the brakes. A deep breath left her throat, as she slowly removed her hands from the wheel and craned her neck to the side. On the other end of the car's window, there stood a colossal gate; a rusting, decaying gate that served as an entrance to St. Jude's Psychiatric Hospital. Or at least, what remained of it.

Tahlia stared off into the building, being swept away into the past. Fragmented recollections of Emilia clinging onto her frame, as they both trailed behind their mother entering these very gates, invaded her mind before she had time to realize. It was all a bit too hazy, but she remembered what it felt like seeing the hospital for the first time. Eight year old her was in part awe and part dread of the giant building that resembled a cathedral straight out of a Gothic noir movie. Tahlia could feel the tiny fingers of her sister clutching at her arms as she checked twice to make sure there weren't any gargoyles perched on top of the roof.

Snapping right back to reality, a second heavy exhale escaped her mouth. She willed herself to step out of the car, wrapping her arms around her torso. The air was getting chillier as nightfall advanced, the indigo sky quilting with twines of grey clouds.

In hesitant yet resolute steps, she approached the eroding structure.

Behind the gateway, there it was, ruins of what once used to be a grand piece of architecture.

In her very periphery, there was an erect laminated sign that spelt out in cursive letters,

'St. Jude's Psychiatric Hospital has existed on hallowed grounds since 1854. Built originally as a convent, it was converted into a sanatorium for the mentally ill in 1952'

The rest of the passage Tahlia could not make out, for time had weathered most of the sign away. Not that it mattered anyway, the internet had already told her what she needed to know the most.

The hospital stood tall until about ten years ago when a fire broke out, killing more than a hundred people inside, since which the institution was effectively shut down and it's torched remains abandoned.

She peeked behind the bars, finding nothing in sight but debris and rubble.

Her teeth sinked into her bottom lip in vexation. She was here, now what?

She shook her head, cursing herself for not thinking the plan through. Her brain attempted to rationalize the scheme, reminding her she thought she could talk to a security guard or something. However, it appeared to her this part of town was eerily empty. It was more than just abandoned, it was forsaken.

As she contemplated her next plan of action, a drop of wetness landed right on her cheek. She touched the surface confusedly, glancing at the water on her fingertips.

"Excuse me."

She swiveled around at the sound of the throaty voice. Her eyes locked with a woman's, not exactly though, considering her eyes were covered by dark sunglasses. The wrinkles and crow's feet all over her visible face told Tahlia she was in her late fifties, sixties even. Her eyes trailed down from the lady's face to her hands in which she grasped a leash. A tiny chihuahua sat on the ground near her feet.

"Are you lost?"

Tahlia shook her head quickly, "Oh, no, I don't think so." It is then that she realized that daylight had begun running out, it would get dark soon and if she wasn't getting any viable information, she wanted to get back to the Uni.

"Sorry to bother you, but do you know if there's someone I could speak to about the hospital before it burnt down. Or one of it's patients at least."

A small grin came over the woman's lips.

As the last of light burnt out, Tahlia almost didn't see her producing an object to her side. But she heard it, clear as day, those sharp clinks against the cemented pavement.

The woman stepped forward in her direction with a walking stick.

"My, my; you've stumbled into the right person then."

And just as she finished uttering those words, the sky tore itself open and began pouring down rain from the heavens.

Tahlia's hands flew over to her head as the water began soaking through her hair and her clothes. She'd almost run over to the car instinctively, but it was as if her feet were cemented to the ground by what the lady had just said.

Careful to not loose her footing, she made her way over to her. She couldn't quite see her in the dark, but the dog's howls from the impact of rainwater made it easier.

"Ma'am!" Tahlia yelled out, "I have a car here, please you must get in." She almost didn't wait for the woman to grant her consent as she clasped her fingers around her arm, leading her down to Jace's car.

Once she was settled in the shotgun seat, her dog in the back, Tahlia hurriedly sat inside, shivering as the cold nipped at her skin all over.

"I live just down the road, you shouldn't have much trouble finding it I suppose, it's the first house you'll see.

Nodding as she switched the heater on, she couldn't help but wonder if Jace would kill her for getting his reupholstered seats wet.

"I assume you had family in the hospital?" The lady questioned twenty seconds into the ride.

"Yes." Tahlia simply said, "My grandmother." Ignoring the shaking of her limbs, she cast a quick glimpse at her, "Did you work there? In the hospital?"

"I did, for a brief but very long twenty eight years. Up until the very day it went down." Drawing in an audible breath, she began, "Your grandmother, was she a patient here between those years?"

As Tahlia nodded, she asked, "What was her name? I may have come across her."

Tightening her jaw, Tahlia croaked out, "Truth be told, I'm not here because of her."

"A friend then?"

A dry smile played on Tahlia's lips, "Far from it."

The first house in the lane came into view. She realized it had stopped pouring, when silence filled the air as she killed the engine. Still shivering, she helped the lady out of the car, letting the dog out to trail right behind her.

"Come in, you must be cold." She said, before turning around and disappearing into the house. Tahlia knew she should be wary of people, but she just had to get answers. Patting her right pocket once to calm her heart down, she followed the woman inside the small building.

It was a neat, warm and cozy place, Tahlia noted as she settled into the living room. The woman came back with towels, leaving Tahlia to dry herself off while she prepared tea. Afraid she'd get water on the couch, Tahlia rose up and she began to pace around the room. Her eyes first found a framed degree hanging on the wall, Master of Science in Nursing, it read.

She almost missed the book case adjacent to it, but something caught her eye, something that made her do a double take.

The sound of the cane against the floor made her aware of the woman's presence behind her, making Tahlia turn around, finding her setting a tray on the coffee table.

"It's a nice collection of books you have here." She commented, to which the lady snickered.

"There was once a time I took great pleasure in reading them, now they just collect dust. But I'm glad you like them, makes me think of them as decoration."

Tahlia pulled out a single copy from the array, "The Red Masque of Death." She said out loud as she put it back into it's place. "I see you like Edgar Allan Poe, there's 15 of his works here."

"Yes, that was always my favorite part of the job. Reading Poe out loud for people too out of it to understand."

Tahlia quirked a brow, "I thought you were a medical nurse."

"Not at St. Jude's." She took a measly sip from her cup, "My job was reading to the patients. Poe was always a personal favorite, I read his pieces out every single week to my groups for as long as I was there, up until the second that place burnt to hell."

"Patients' riots they said. Before I knew what was happening, I was out. The next thing I know, I wake up and everything is pitch black."

"I'm sorry." Tahlia mumbled feebly as she took a place across from hers.

"Well, enough about me. Now what was it about your friend? Was he from town?"

The room remained silent for a minute before Tahlia could move her lips. "Hunt, his last name is Hunt. And yes I believe he was."

She shook her head, "Must have been before my time then darling, there was no one named Hunt while I worked there." She set her empty cup down on the saucer, "In fact, I don't think I've ever heard of a Hunt in Kriptonhurst."

Although Tahlia was relieved that she hadn't put two and two together and realized who Tahlia was referring to, she frowned. Another dead end, great; she thought. She could feel her teeth gnash against each other in absolute despair.

"If he's far from a friend, I assume you're looking for him because this man has hurt you."

"Worse than that." Tahlia replied within a heartbeat. "And most of the time I think I'm crazy for seeking things out that I know should be left alone. But I can't sleep at night, it's too loud." She shook her head, "I thought this would give me some peace and quiet in here."

She peered at the woman, her bottom lip quivering. "My friend, he has done terrible things. Things that make me wonder if he's human in the first place. Is he even real?" She breathed in, "Sometimes I have to remind myself that he's capable of smiling. Riding his horse made him happy, he told me. I'd like to think it's true."

Tahlia realized she had been going on and on for a while, blabbering out her mind to a random person. As she opened her mouth to apologize, the woman beat her to it.

"Horse you said?" She mused,

"If you say he's from around town, only one family ever owned horses here."

She appeared deep in thought, before turning her face up towards Tahlia's general direction.

"The Foresters. They had stables and all.

And their son, Kyle, was at St. Jude's yes, but he lost his life in the fire."

Kyle.

Tahlia's eyes widened by epic proportions as she took a that information in. "Well- well, what happened to the...Foresters? Are they still around?"

"No, last I heard they left town after what happened to their son."

Tahlia stood up, the chair mildly scraping against the floor with her action. "Thank you so very much Ma'am, you have been of great help. Um, one last thing, do you think you could give me The Foresters' address?"

The woman proceeded to explain that it would be of no use, considering the house had been vacant for a decade. But Tahlia was hearing none of it, her heart thumping in her chest like never before.

She wrote down the address and took her leave.

As she sat in the driver's seat, she had to take in three large breaths to regulate her breathing.

Kyle. Kyle. Kyle.

Her fingers brushed against her right pocket, feeling the outline of the swiss knife that she had brought for protection.

With that, she stepped on the gas.

The ride was only about 20 minutes long. Nearly not long enough for Tahlia to reconsider going there alone. All she could do was pray she wouldn't encounter a certain someone, and even if she did, the swiss knife would suffice.

Soon Tahlia found herself pulling up in front of a fairly large house, ungroomed and dilapidated. An ounce of doubt infiltrated her mind; for all she knew, Logan could have lied about the horse bit and the Foresters had nothing to do with him.

But the second Tahlia looked out the window, at the other side of the road, she froze.

There, on the other end, was a large willow tree. It was like deja vù, except Tahlia knew exactly why the tree looked so familiar. It was the same as the one in Logan's repertoire, one of the first pieces of his art she had ever seen that was left emblazoned in her brain.

It was real, it was happening.

This is it.

She got out of the car warily, glancing around in all directions as she entered the yard. The moonlight mocked her as she walked around the property, high on adrenaline and fear. Instead of going straight inside the house, she decided to check out the backyard.

It was huge. Just about the size of the park that faced her dormitory. Deeper into the land, she could spot three vacant stable stalls and pen gates right adjacent to the stalls. Clearly it had been many years since this place last saw any signs of life.

Feeling a sudden chill run down her spine, Tahlia decided to retreat. She backed away from the farm-like yard, hastily walking over to where the front door of the house was. On one hand, she wished to call Sergeant Randall and show him what she'd found, one the other she realized, there was no solid proof to back her claims.

She sighed as she realized the only thing between her and a slew of answers was that front door. Carefully reaching down her pocket, she brandished the knife in her hands as she approached the door, stealthy like a fox.

The entrance may as well have had "Abandon all hope, ye who enter here" inscribed all over it's surface.

She'd almost touched the door handle when she felt a small weight on her right shoulder, one very akin to a touch.

With paralyzing fear spreading through her veins rapidly, she turned around and screamed at the sight of a certain man.

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