The room was forgotten, desolate. There was a window that had been boarded up, allowing not a shred of light to pass through. The musky odour wafted like a grey fog through the vents, its pungent odour an insult to any human nostril. As the door began to creak open, a sickly black cat meowed frantically and ran out. Edging forward, she thought to herself if she should really go there again. Into that place. That room. Dizzy, she stumbled towards a dilapidated wall and took a deep breath. She was getting the spins again, her body wanting to shut down, avoid feeling at all costs.

The room started to move around her, she hunched over to keep from passing out.

Calm down Liz, she coached herself. _One breath. Two breaths_. Inhaling slowly, cautiously. Exhaling, 3...2...1. Repeat. She stood back up, nervously pulling at her shirt.

Liz was always on the anxious side, in a rotating state of unease. This was different, this was where it all began.

It started when she was fifteen. A Junior at Williams Myers high school, Liz was a reserved girl. She was kind and soft spoken, well liked by those around her. Her eyes bore the pain of a life filled with dysfunction and chaos. A brunette, she wore her hair long and reckless, barely running a brush through it most days. Her skin was pasty white like a cotton ball. Smooth with not a trace of a pimple. Her mind was an elaborate map of analyzing and coping while trying to be a _normal _girl_._

Carla befriended Liz, despite there being no obvious commonalities. They clicked in an unconventional way, especially for high school. They quickly became close.

"Liz, let's go check out the building over by Warner street later. Chris will bring some booze, you could use some time here on Earth". Carla's loud booming voice rattled Liz out of her daydreaming.

Carla was the opposite of Liz. She had a large presence socially, she was considered popular. Her long curly hair always sat on top of her head in a bun, thick black scrunchie surrounding it. She was opinionated and rarely held back, a sarcastic sense of humour her forte.

"Yeah I guess I can come for a bit" Liz answered. She never liked the building on Warner. It was a tear down, slated for construction of a bunch of high rise condominiums in the next five years. It gave her the chills, she didn't know why.

"I wouldn't mind a drink" Liz said, agreeing to check out the building.

The two girls made their way to the building. Warner Street was a crime riddled area of town. It was well known for drug dealers, the opioid crisis was rampant and garnered millions of dollars in corrupt crime money. Cigarette butts littered the sidewalks.

The air was heavy with pollution and had an overpowering stench of trash that had long been neglected by the city workers.

"Walk quick, don't look at anyone" Carla reminded Liz. With her head always in the clouds, she sometimes would be caught staring despite not really being aware. Monkey mind.

Carla knew a shortcut that helped them avoid the heaviest concentration of the homeless. The homeless were known to get violent during their drug induced rages. Carla and Liz were young but they weren't morons. They knew they were vulnerable but also had that teenage sense of invisibility. Carla had a fishing knife in the waistband of her tight blue leggings. She'd never used a knife before but wasn't afraid to learn.

"It's over there, Chris will be by in twenty" Carla pointed to a large brick building. Twelve stories high.

They entered through the back door that lead to the stairwell. The paint of the railing chipped in most areas, rust settling in.

Carla breezed up the stairs, the adrenaline propelling her, she was three flights ahead of Liz. "Let's go, move faster!" she shouted to Liz.

A dark foreboding suddenly enveloped Liz. Goosebumps covered her arms as the tiny blonde arm hairs stood at attention. Her brain sent othe stress signals charging through her within seconds. She shivered as if a cold fierce wind had just blown through her. It was sudden, almost a premonition but she ignored it, despite everything inside her warning her to run.

"Coming" she shouted, her voice echoing through the eerie cob webbed stairwell.

As Liz approached the door, she heard a scream. It was Carla. The echo of the scream carried through the building. Blood curdling. Glass shattering. The screams you hear in cheesey horror movies.

Liz pushed her way inside, _breathe in, breathe out._

She inched her way inside, cautiously peering around the room.

"Carla..." Liz whispered, terrified of what she may hear.

The floors were creaking with every hesitant step she took. The building hadn't been maintained and likely would fail any safety standards.

Liz knew the feeling of a racing heartbeat well, she was used to a subtle state of fear. This was way over the threshold. Her heart thumped vigorously as her mind raced relentlessly.

_One breath. Two breaths._

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There she was, feet dangling. The blood trickling from her torso. Carla's mouth was hanging open. Her eyes, once wide with wonder now were wide with a look of unimaginable terror. The last moment of her life was so terror striken, so bone chilling that her gasps would reverberate for decades to come.

The floors began to move, they spiraled and crashed furiously, a sickly warmth rushing over Liz as her mind failed to grasp what she was witnessing.

_It's happening again..._

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The whites of her eyes rolled back, she could feel the high pitched siren ringing in her ears, penetrating her body. She resisted, trying to will herself to not follow the familiar pattern. The same pattern that lead her to Ward #4. It was too late.

"You must be Liz's mother. Please have a seat" Eleanor Slattery had aged gracefully, a youthful complexion, with dark red curls that hugged the silhouette of her face. She had put on some weight over the years but carried it well.

She took a seat on the faded, brown, upholstered chair.

"How did you find her?" Mrs. Slattery had a soft voice that was riddled with concern but also a knowing that this wasn't the first time.

_The Doctor leaned forward, his file folder open with a bright red stamp on the front._

_"Involuntary Hold, Ward #4"_

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_"_Your daughter seems to have had another episode" began the doctor, his tone was monotone--he said that sentence pretty regularly in his line of work, and had become desensitized to the emotions of it all.

We have again admitted her to the ward for further observation. It appears she created another murder in the depths of her imagination. She believes she stabbed her friend Carla mercilessly at a building on Warner St. Problem is, there is no building on Warner St. A concerned passerby found her alone under one of the overpasses on Hwy 90.

"Who is Carla?" The doctor asked in a more interested manner than his previous question.

Mrs Slattery sighed, pausing to think of how best to respond.

"My daughter _is_ Carla"

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