As the Deetzs left minus one member of the family, the two nurses placed a blue blanket over Lydia and rolled the gurney through the pastel-colored halls towards the Psyche Ward. As they boarded the service elevator and positioned the gurney properly, the man turned to his companion.

"Jesus…you think she's even in there anymore?" he whispered into her ear.

They both stared at the girl's wide eyes that stared into nothingness and the woman shivered. "I'm creeped out just looking at her. I hate the crazies; it's like they're sub-human. Glad I don't work the night shift in there."

"Well, you know Thompson. That old bat loves catering to them. Personally, I think she belongs on one of these beds."

The doors opened and they pushed the cart down a hall lit by bare fluorescent lights. Under the glow, all their skin appeared with a greenish tint, but Lydia's shone a sickly yellow because of the pale flesh corrupted by her illness. Finally they pushed through a pair of double doors and rolled her into a spot behind a curtain, which they drew around her and checked in with Marian Thompson, the night nurse in that department.

The stout crone glanced at them over her half-moon glasses and smiled. "Hello, kiddies. Brought be another one then?"

"Yeah, Marian," the female nurse answered. "She's a screamer. Give her some Valium or something; just knock her out. Save yourself the trouble."

"Oh, dear, we don't waste too much sleep medicine on these ones. I just take out my hearing aid and I'm perfectly happy all night long. I do have my books."

The man eyed the short stack of dime-store romance novels and mentally retched. The idea of someone as old and senile as Marian Thompson still enjoying books of that nature made him sick.

As they left, they shot one more look at the young woman who, up until ten minutes ago, had only been a sick little girl.

Beetlejuice grinned as he stared into the mirror. Well, this had turned out better than he expected; now she really was all alone. Adam and Barbara were out of the picture; so were the Deetzs. All he had to worry about was a soon-to-be-completely-deaf old lady burying her nose in harlequin romance novels. Hardly a stellar defense against the Ghost with the Most.

Now, it was simply a waiting game. What would come first: Lydia's partial salvation in the form of the Deetzs…or sleep?

Lydia's eyes watered, aching to be closed. The seconds ticked by like hours, and she got more and more sleepy. It was hard to concentrate entirely on staying awake.

Never mind the fact that she was tied down to a madman's gurney and left alone in a completely deserted wing of the hospital. Ignore the fact that that the only person keeping her company couldn't care less about her. Disregard her parents' abandonment of her. No, all she cared about was staying awake. She knew he couldn't come if she was awake.

When she first felt her eyes drooping, she screamed to keep herself awake. She let out piercing cries to focus her energy. And just as her throat was getting ragged, into her vision came a short woman scowling at her.

"Now, now, dear. I can't have you keeping everyone else awake. Stop that."

But Lydia defied her and cried out as loud as she could. However, she was silenced by a pill falling into her mouth along with a small amount of water.

To keep from choking to death, Lydia swallowed and felt tears come to her eyes. Oh, how could the woman be so cruel? Didn't she know what she was doing?

"I said we didn't waste much medicine on you. But we do use it when necessary. Now, nighty-night. Don't let the bed-bugs bite," the woman crooned, leaving Lydia's plane of vision.

She began to cry. It wasn't fair. She wasn't crazy. She wasn't. Didn't belong here…didn't deserve this…didn't…didn't…

"Welcome back, babes."

The world around them looked like it wasn't real. Everything was too…strange. Too uniform.

"See what I had to deal with? I tell you, it's hell living in a model."

Beetlejuice was perched on a cardboard gravestone not ten feet away, inspecting the material with a bored eye. However, his disinterest in the scenery wasn't reflected in the grin he sported.

Lydia closed her eyes. Maybe if she couldn't see it, it wouldn't be real. Maybe she'd go into another dream. Maybe, if she prayed hard enough, the God she never really thought about would let her wake up.

"Oh no, Lyds. That nurse was really nice with the stuff she gave you. You're conked out for a good eight hours more." He pushed off the tombstone and hooked his thumbs in his pockets. "You're in here for a while."

So she tried screaming to wake herself up. Her throat, ragged and sore, could hardly bear the strain after so much abuse; her voice sputtered and died. Soon, all that came out was a breathy whisper.

He cracked up. "You just keep shooting yourself in the foot, don't you? I'm tellin' you; just give it up."

She shook her head profusely "no", backing up against a grave marker and holding tight to it as if trying to get some kind of grip on the wild world she was in. He watched her actions and cocked his head as if a flash of insight hit him out of the blue.

"I got it!" he exclaimed, venturing a bit close. "I'll tell you what…"

Kneeling, he leveled eyes with her and narrowed his pupils. "Now, we're gonna do this. There's no choice in that. Eventually, come Hell or high water, I'm dragging you back to the Neitherworld. But…you can just say my name now, and we skip this scene.

"Or…and I'm really hoping you'll choose this one…we can do this the fun way."

Her eyes went wide and a bolt of fear ran down her spine. Frozen, she could only stare, wordlessly, as his grin just got wider and wider when she didn't respond.

"Goody."

Charles Deetz sat back in his easy chair, drink in hand. As he took another sip from the glass, he felt the alcohol hit the back of his head and send another wave of euphoria through him.

It felt like his life was falling apart around him; like Lydia had been the glue that had kept his sanity together. After the whole episode with the exorcism only six months ago, his nerves had never and probably would never recover. Delia didn't really understand. She assumed he was just fragile at times; she understood when not to bother him with minutia.

But she was so wrong. Now, he could never bother with minutia. Worrying about what color the new drapes would be could kill him or drive him certifiably insane. In fact, he felt as if he was the one that belonged in the psyche ward tonight instead of his poor daughter.

And that was the most frustrating part; no one knew what the hell was wrong with her! If they could at least give a name to her pain, it could ease some of the worry. Or at least some of the confusion. They'd know what to do and what not to do and generally how to cope with it. But this sickness was so volatile; they had no idea if they were making her sicker by not doing anything.

He tipped back the rest and dropped the glass, where it hit the floor and rolled away, a tiny chip of crystal left behind where it had impacted. He stared at the sliver of glass and felt his eyes go out of focus.

That's all I am these days. A cracked cup.

Charles threw his head back and his vision slipped over the ceiling, picking out the horizontal beams that crossed above him. There were eight in all. They were made of dark hardwood, supporting the roof above. Without them, the room would cave in.

Drunk as a skunk, he began to name them. One by one, he blessed them with good, Christian names, and when he'd finished he let out a smirk and went back to realize that he'd named every last one of them "Lydia".

Marian Thompson saw the red light blinking and reached for her hearing aid. Popping it in and marking her place in the book she was reading, she picked up the phone.

"Hello?"

The voice on the other end was ragged and upset. "Marian, I've got someone here who says they need to know how the girl in your ward is doing. Can you just check up on her for a second?"

Ms. Thompson stood up and took the cordless phone with her. As she crossed the room, she observed the girl's rapid eye movement and small whimpering sounds of deep slumber. Within seconds, the girl went completely still. Her breathing shallow, her REM sleep continued as she lay frozen under the covers.

Marian smiled softly and brought the earpiece back up to her head.

"No worries, dear. She's dreaming."