A/N: Just in case you're all wondering I've added new chapters in between some of the story.Chapters 13/15 &19 are all new.

Zach

Zach stared down the long corridor that stretched out in front of him. It wasn't really a surprise to him that he had ended up here. If he was brutally honest he didn't think anyone would be surprised he had ended up here, given his family history.

Slowly he made his way down the pristine white tiled corridor, pausing every now and then to glance through small windows, that were set in the walls in evenly spaced intervals. Zach snorted derisively. The placing was unerringly even, he could measure it with his feet, each were exactly four large strides apart. Of course, he thought scathingly, has to be even, has to be precise, no room for anything deviant in here.

Unconsciously Zach's pace picked up, mirroring his agitated thoughts. He tried to avoid looking in the windows, at first he had been curious, wanted to see what it looked like, see what his nightmare looked like. But he didn't want to anymore. He had seen enough. This place, he thought, his nostrils flaring in disgust, was everything he hated, everything he detested. Everything he feared.

It was so white, so barren, devoid of colours, shapes, dreams, stripped of individuality. The place was a beast, it screamed at his artistic mind, stalking him, luring him, sensing his thoughts and weaknesses, snaring his mind and baiting him before it trapped him. Ensnaring him forever in its vast, sticky web of lies.

Not to me, Zach thought with a panicked calm, not to me. He was jogging now, his ash blond hair swinging behind. A light sheen of sweat covered his forehead as he jogged, faster, faster, looking for a way out. He couldn't stay here for too long he couldn't, he would go mad, which, he thought, snickering to himself insanely, is exactly what they want.

The rooms began to pass by him in a rush as he ran faster down the length of the corridor. Even now the windows screamed at him, telling him to look, to see what was destined for him. He didn't look. He couldn't. He kept his eyes straight, sheer willpower forcing him to keep searching for a way out.

Suddenly the end of the corridor loomed ahead of him and Zach halted, so abruptly that the force of his momentum caused him to stumble. There were no turnings at the end, just a door in the wall. There was no window looking into this one.

Zach moved forward hesitantly. He could see now that the door was slightly ajar, just slightly, allowing the barest sliver of orange-y light into the dull corridor. It filled him with the deepest sense of fore-boding. If he had learned anything from his past experiences, it was to never open a door without knowing what was behind it.

Jenny had thought him that.

For a brief moment Zach's slate grey eyes softened. Out of all of them he knew this was going to be the hardest on Jenny. He had seen the look on Julian's face when he had announced the rules of the new game. He had been looking at Jenny, almost violently. Zach hadn't seen any compassion in those blue eyes. And now jenny had to win all of her nightmares. All alone.

Would she win? Zach wasn't so sure. He knew julian would be stalking her through out the game, trying to trick her as he had in the first paper house. He remembered what Jenny had told him in private. It had been after the last fight he'd had with his father, when he'd decided to move out of home. Jenny had been over to comfort him and she'd told him, in private, when Julian had impersonated him and had kissed Jenny.

His eyes had widened in shock. He was an artist, it took a lot to shock him, but that had seriously thrown him. Sure he loved Jenny, but as a sister, nothing else. It amused him to think Julian had been so jealous. Now it didn't so much. Now it scared him. Even after death he wasn't done with her, now that was serious obsession. And Zach knew about serious obsession. Look at Van Gogh, he had sent his life's obsession his own severed ear.

But at least Van Gogh had mutilated himself. Julian didn't seem to be content until he mutilated everybody else.

Zach took a deep breath, his grey eyes turning as dark as flint again. It was obvious he had to go into that room and face what was there. Hell he had made it through the last two nightmares, maybe he would survive this.

Maybe.

This place was everything that haunted him, ever since he had thought that Grandpa Evans had turned crazy, he had imagined he would end up here. His dad hadn't helped. He had taunted Zach, yelled at him, wondered why he spent so much time in the basement creating things that weren't real. "No son of mine" he had yelled. How could he explain to a man, who's sole joy in life was hunting and drinking, about the magic that art contained?

Zach had tried once to explain. He had shown his dad his favourite creation by Dali, "The Burning Giraffe". It had depicted two women, with drawers in their legs, supported by props; in the background was a lone giraffe, covered in flames. Zach loved it, he could stare at it for hours, contemplating what Dali was trying to depict. His father had just stared at him. After that Zach hadn't bothered, and turned a deaf ear to his father's relentless ramblings.

Julian was a surrealist, he thought as he moved closer to the door. The phantom snake and wolf had been creations worthy of Dali-esque praise. Zach's picture of the phantom snake was his most prized creation. It had gained him entry to his art course, all of his teachers had wondered how he'd managed to capture a photograph like that.

Zach hadn't bothered to explain.

Gritting his teeth, Zach pushed open the door fully, it was as white and sterile as the corridor had been. The walls were covered in soft white padding, and there was one bed and one cabinet, with rounded corners. How clichéd Zach snorted as he moved in further. Of course it was his nightmare so what did he expect.

He walked towards the bed and the door shut behind him with a soft click. Before he knew it he was grabbed from behind. With an enraged cry Zach struggled, trying to get out of his captors arms', but they were too strong. They slipped something over his head, trapping his arms tightly to his body, and strapped it from behind. Zach looked down in horror.

He was in a strait-jacket.

He turned around to face them. Two men in long white coats, identical glasses on each nose, they were like two clones of each other, standing and judging him. Zach began to struggle in earnest now, what did he have to do, where was the door to get out? His struggles became wild thrashings as he tried to get out of the strait-jacket, immediately the doctors moved forward, one holding him still while the other pulled a needle out and jammed it into his leg.

Zach felt the effect take hold instantly, the room began to swim as the drug flowed through his system, causing him to become drowsy, complacent.

They were whispering things to him now, calming things, probably about how great he was doing as they led him over to the bed and strapped him down. Zach didn't care, he didn't want to know. One sentance caught his attention.

"You have a visitor they whispered" and then moved away leaving him to stare at the blank white walls.

Zach tried to focus, visitor, who was visiting him here? He closed his eyes, shutting out the blinding whiteness, trying to think. A noise caused him to open his eyes. A gun was pointed at his head.

He lifted his head to look at its' owner. "No son of mine" his father whispered as he pulled the trigger and Zach's world exploded in colour.