Normal is just a dream.

Miles breathed heavily against a wall as he caught his breath.

Chris Walker. If there was one thing Miles could say about the man he was damn persistent, stalking him all the way through the asylum, never letting up, never stopping, always there. It was terrifying, all he could ever do was run and hope he wouldn't get caught.

He used to pray, but Miles gave up on that a long time after entering the asylum. No god in their right mind would touch this place, they'd just push it away into a corner and ignore it. He couldn't blame them, he wished he could do the same.

He was in the female ward, or at least whatever was left of it. It was falling apart, most of it was at least and all around him it was nothing but hell, one big living hell.

As he wandered the down hall he began to hear music playing, piano it sounded like.

Musician, a voice whispered into his head. Oh great.

He wished Trebel was here, she would at least be able to… maybe deter Musician from killing him, but now? And as if to top it all off he had to walk past her too.

Slowly, he crept up to the door and gently pushed it open, to see a piano with candles surrounding it, all lit and a woman was sat at the head of the piano, playing with ease.

She paused for a moment and looked directly at him.

Miles felt his heart stop, the look she gave was cold and harsh, but it sound softened when she seemed to realise who he was.

She turned back to the piano and began to play, softer this time, a smirk pulling across her face. "I was not expecting a visit from Father Martin's apostle," she laughed slightly. "I feel like I should act humble in your presence."

Miles didn't say anything, he simply continued to watch her as her fingers stroked the keys and eased them into a beautiful, if not haunting tune.

"Not much of a talker," she commented before a twisted look fell across her face. "Which means… you're one hell of a screamer, am I right?" she glanced back at him before looking down at his hands. "A little visit with the mad doctor yes? Trager?"

Miles shuddered at the name before he began to walk around the room, looking for batteries and documents, always keeping Musician in his sight.

"I haven't heard any more screams coming from his part of the asylum," she commented before stopping in her playing and folding her hands in her lap. "I take it that's your doing. Bumped old Rick off huh?"

He froze before turning towards her and she smiled, her right eye leaking blood for a moment, which she quickly wiped away. "I'm not complaining. I never liked the man, not even when we were…" she lifted her hands up and did quotation marks. " 'Buddys'."

He went back to searching, but he span around at the sound of the floor boards creaking, only to be greeted face to face with Musician who seemed to be studying him.

"Scared aren't you?" she chuckled. "You have nothing to fear from me Apostle, I am not interested in going on a killing spree, quite frankly I wish to be left alone with my music, but these lunatics won't allow such privilege. It really is quite upsetting. You on the other hand… intrigue me," she slowly rose a hand to his face and let one of her long nails scrape across his face, causing Miles to hiss and back away from her. "Ah, he does make a sound, I thought you a mute."

He narrowed his eyes. "Lady, if you knew me, you wouldn't be calling me a mute. And get the fuck away from me!"

"Now he speaks." she leaned in close again, not seeming to care about personal space. "Word of advice… don't try talking to the loonies in here, they'll send you crazy with he mumbo jumbo they spit out."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning that the moment their words begin to make sense to you… is the moment to worry."

Miles frowned. Recently he'd found that the crazies words were starting to make sense to him. A lot more sense then he was willing to admit.

"They've already started to make sense haven't they?"

"Not that it's any business of yours! What are you even supposed to be, a reject from the gender bend phantom of the opera!?"

Musician laughed, she leaned her head back and laughed loudly. "You're a riot," she smirked. "And do not worry, I suppose you must of been already slightly tapped, why else would the Walrider choose you."

"Don't tell me you buy into that bullshit too?" Miles rolled his eyes. "And I am sane. Why would you question otherwise?"

"Well… I'm not the one who willingly broke into an insane asylum," Musician's eyes sparkled with enjoyment. "That was you."

"I didn't break in-."

"Don't lie to me," she snarled. "I hate it when people lie. Murkoff lied, the Doctors lied, my ex-husband lied!" she suddenly took a step towards Miles and glared. "My only regret is I didn't get to slit that little whore's throat when I had the chance, but piano wire is much more my style. Though it would've been funny to paint that witch's portrait with her own blood and give it to my husband as a going away present," an insane look took to her features and Miles back peddled slightly, before his back hit the wall and Musician smirked walking up to her cornered prey. "And I know you broke in because this building was on lock down. Only way in would be to break in."

Miles swallowed uneasily as she continued to be studying him, judging him. He guessed that she struggled when people lied, considering her history then he wouldn't be surprised.

"Alright so I broke in!" he yelled, gripping his camera tightly. "But I wish to god I hadn't! This place…" Miles put his hands to his face and slid down the wall. "This place is hell… living fucking hell…!" he sobbed into his hands as it all came crashing down on him.

"What's your name?"

"What?"

Musician knelt down in front of him and gently lifted his head up to face her. "You're name, my musical note… what's your name?"

He swallowed before nodding slightly. "Miles… Miles Upshur."

At his name she laughed brightly before shaking her head.

"What?" he snapped out, but he had a feeling he already knew.

"You're name… Miles Upshur…?" she tilted her head to the side, a smile still on her face. "Like the saying… 'miles upshore-'"

" 'Without a paddle', yeah I know," he folded his arms across his chest. "I've heard it before."

She looked around the room they were in. "You certainly lived up to your name."

He sniffed before getting to his feet and rubbed away the tears from his eyes. "Suck it up Upshur," he mumbled before he pushed past her heading towards the door.

"Miles…?"

He paused and looked behind at her, she was still standing in the same place, before she was walking away towards her piano. "I know… you trust Father Martin-."

"I don't trust-."

"Yes you do," she looked back at him. "As much as he's got you running around here and saving you at certain moments… he's making you ready."

Miles frowned. "Ready for what?"

Musician was about to speak when the door suddenly opened and in stepped the twins, machetes in hand swinging them lazily.

Musician quickly stood in the way of them and Miles, drawing out a hidden knife from a home made garter.

Miles was frozen, his eyes darting between Musician and the door.

"Miles, get out of here!"

"But what about-?"

"Damn it Miles, you don't know me get out!"

He backed up. She didn't seem that insane, she could still be saved.

"Musician."

"The Apostle."

"You spoke his name."

"Yeah," she bit out. "Damn it Miles!" she turned her slightly and glared at him. "GET!"

He backed up and quickly turned tail and ran out the room, she could hear his footsteps retreating down the hall.

She looked back at them, but they had moved.

She blinked in confusion before she felt a beefy arm wrap around her neck choking her.

Musician forgot how quick they could be, she lifted her arm up to stab him, but another arm grabbed it and stopped it from moving.

"Ugh, get your filthy hands off me!"

"You almost told the apostle the plan."

"That is unacceptable."

"She must be punished."

"But how?"

"We could kill her?"

"A suitable death."

"Of course."

"Enough!"

Musician blinked before looking ahead was Junk, an inmate she had befriended before she became an inmate herself stood at the door.

He was badly messed up now and he had only recently been giving the nick name Junk in this evening or day or however long this madness had lasted.

"Let her go," he growled out, dragging his club foot, but that was not to make him appear weak, oh no, he was anything but weak. He'd survived Trager and escaped, one of the few and then he's survived a run in with Walker, the two had fought and Junk had come out on top. He had a reputation and everyone knew it.

"It is the man of many parts."

"Junk."

"And recycle."

"Why should we let her go?"

"An interesting and good question, brother."

As if to answer them, he grabbed a table and threw it against the wall, watching as it smashed into a million pieces. He turned and gave them a look.

"We could take him."

"It would be difficult."

"Hard."

Musician made a face of disgust. "Please refrain from saying that while you're pressed up against me like this."

"I've had enough of this…" Junk rolled his eyes before charging and slamming into the first brother, the second letting go of Musician and spinning around to attack Junk and save his brother, she booked it away from the scene, hiding away from them as she heard the cries and yells of the fight.

It took a while but Junk found her again, he was pretty beaten up, with cuts and scrapes but he was alive.

He shook his head at her. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why do you insist on getting in a fight with those two?" he sighed and ran a hand down whatever was left of his face. "Weren't you a Doctor here once, don't you want to care for your patients?"

"Of course I did, but that was before I became a patient and those two…" she shuddered slightly. "Those two always creeped the hell out of me."

Junk sighed and sat down in front of her. "Why did you talk to him?"

She glanced up and raised an eyebrow.

"The Apostle? Why did you talk to him?"

Musician sighed and leaned her head back. "Martin's leading him into a trap. He's taken the whole 'witness' thing to a whole new level. You remember the recording. Only someone who had 'witnessed' enough horror and was in a close proximity to death and madness could activate the engine and become the host for the walrider. This place," she gestured around them. "Is a Walrider host breeding ground. He's going to ruin that young man's life. It's not fair… Murkoff has ruined so much, destroyed so many lives it shouldn't be aloud to destroy the life of the one person who could actually make a difference," she got to her feet, gripping her elbows with her arms as she folded them across her chest, staring into the darkness. "Murkoff's taken so much from us, should it really take away our hope too? Our hope of justice, that's what Miles could give us, but if he becomes the host… I don't know. He's too much of a good person, he wouldn't leave here and the story would never get out."

"I hear him, ya know?"

She turned to look at him, Junk was wearing a solemn look on his face as he turned away.

"I hear the walrider. It want's the Apostle as it's host… said that he was almost ready as soon as he entered the building. He was perfect. How I don't know but… surly that must mean he's like us? He's insane?"

She was silent before barking out a laugh and shaking her head. "I'm not the one who willingly broke into an insane asylum…" she whispered with a smile.

"What?"

She shook her head. "Doesn't matter," she smiled. "Where's Trebel?"

"Last I saw her she said she was going to help the Whistleblower get away from Eddie."

"I told her not to go down there!" Musician snarled. "That… man… he's not even a person anymore he's just a monster! He's too unpredictable."

"Would you like me to go down and get her? I was heading that way anyway, Puppet got tangled up in his strings again, or at least that's what Shakespear told me."

"Yes please do… I don't want her anywhere near that monster. Even if it is to help Waylon, he's a grown man, he'll be fine."

Junk nodded before slowly walking down the halls towards the exit and the lower floors, somewhere above there was a shout and a cry. Sounded like Miles.

Musician sighed and shook her head. "He's going to get himself killed one of these times. He's too rash."

She walked through the halls and finally came face to face with Miles, who screamed and backed up until he realised who it was.

"What on earth is wrong with you?" she looked him up and down before looking at his hands. "And where is your camera?"

"I dropped it."

She sighed. "How many floors?"

"All three of them."

Her eyes widened. "You'll be lucky if it's still in one fucking piece," she commented before side stepping and pointing down the corridor. "Head to the bathroom, there is a collapsed floor, you can get down that way."

He nodded and quickly walked past her, keeping towards the light that either the vandals gave off or the few remaining lights.

She sighed and looked up at the ceiling. It was almost the end. The night was almost over. No doubt Murkoff would send more men to deal with this mess come the early hours of the morning. To kill them all and save the ones they think they could do more with. If that was the case, what would become of the reporter?

"He'll get out…" she muttered to herself. "You know he'll get out. He survived Chris and Trager… both people Murkoff tactical died to, so Miles will be fine. He'll get out."

She fell silent for a moment.

"And now I'm talking to myself…" she shook her head and began to walk the halls again. "Great," she muttered under her breath as she passed some patients. "Because that's a normal thing to do."

Musician paused and looked back at the patients, who themselves were muttering, rocking back and forth, some even tearing at the tumurs on their arms and hands and face. It was normal here for things like that to happen. But she supposed here, in Mount Massive, normal was just a dream.

THE END.