small note: hello! uhh, basically, I wrote this for a Halloween competition lmao. The original story was all my own characters, but I can't lie and say this story is very much based on the Riverdale cast lmao. Hope you enjoy!

21st September 2020.

8:36PM.

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I need to be quick, before they figure out, I'm not on set, so sorry for mistakes. I wrote everything below last night, and I'm posting it now on a throw-away phone on public Wi-fi. It's been two days since I've taken the pill, so I'm feeling clearheaded enough.

My name is Lili. I'm twenty-three years old, and I'm being held prisoner.

Lili isn't my real name, but I'm going to change it for obvious reasons. I play a main character in a well-known TV show which is currently airing. You've probably seen it on one of the big networks or streaming services.

Most of you will know my character, though I'm not sure about me. I wouldn't say I'm A-list. But our show does have a lot of fans. I'm writing this, because I recently talked to a friend (who is also going through this ordeal with me.) He's out of it most of the time, but there were slithers in conversation when he mentioned this website. He said this place is where people can tell stories, real or fake. And you guys can either believe me, or chalk what I'm going to tell you down to a glamorised fanfiction written by someone with an overactive imagination. It's also the best place for me to tell it.

I can't get into trouble because I guess it's a story. This is the only place I can reach out to.

I'll start from the beginning. I'm going to change the names of the characters/cast members to remain anonymous so this can't be traced back to me. The character I play is called Betty Cooper. I've been playing her for almost three years. Betty was my first real acting gig.

I've been cast in movies and shows before, but Betty was my way into real fame. I've met some great people since then, and my cast mates are like my second family. Betty was the reason I moved to LA and took a chance on what I thought would be a small role. The show wasn't expected to get so big, and before I knew it, I was attending press days and going to my first ever Teen Choice Awards, and San Diego Comic Con. It was crazy. Surreal. I could work with my best friends and earn money for doing what I loved.

It seemed like a dream come true.

And it was. At least for the first few years. I loved the show. It was something I could believe in. I connected so well to Betty, because she suffered with the same problems as me (anxiety and depression). The show from the start wanted to be different, and I respected that. It wanted to take elements from other TV dramas, and mix them together, creating something brand new and innovative. And it worked.

Our head writers are brothers, collaboratively working on the show. They were passionate about the plot and characters, especially Betty, and often let me have creative input, which allowed me to connect to my character properly, which made it easier to play her. If I'm honest I felt like I was playing myself.

Trouble arose when we finished season one. Again, we didn't know the show was going to go so well. Our writers had a perfect ending, which tied up all the loose ends. We had already filmed it, and despite adoring Betty, I was happy with the ending. Part of me was praying for a season two, but we all collaboratively agreed our initial ending was great. I remember we all went out for a cast meal, and the subject came up. Season two. We were all hoping for one, and knew the writers had ideas if we were green lit. At that point, I was practically high on the thought of another season. And who could have blamed me? Another 13 whole episodes to film with my best friends? It was the dream.

And weeks later? We were commissioned for season two. I can't put into words how happy I was! I remember being at home when it was announced, and I screamed. I just screamed and screamed until my parents, who I was visiting at the time, asked me if I was okay. The next few months went by in a blur. I was blown away how big our show had gotten. People came up to me at the airport, calling me Betty. It was crazy. Like I was living this insane dream.

Season two was different. Though I was expecting it. I did notice the writing had gotten lazy, though. Betty's storylines went from normal problems, to progressively more bizarre plots that I could no longer call relatable. It reached a point when Betty became a separate person all together and playing her started to make me feel uncomfortable. Our fans started to notice the deteriorating writing, and then our show began its downwards spiral. The writers were writing for shock value, instead of actual engaging plot. We were left baffled, and couldn't say anything, because we weren't allowed. At the end of season two, it only got more and more insane. Which again, made sense. The whole point of the show was to be different, but the writers took it to a whole other level.

Season three is when everything kind of blew up in my face. I wasn't excited to be green lit for another season. None of us were. The spark had gone, and the show was starting to gain attention for how crazy it had gotten. My friends and family started asking questions, and they urged me to quit. As far as they were concerned, the show was a joke. As were me and the other cast members.

We became a joke. People weren't laughing with us. They were laughing at us. At characters we worked so hard to make real, only for the writers to make them barely recognisable. It was infuriating, but I wasn't allowed to speak out. If I liked a post on Instagram which was making fun of the show, I'd get nonstop texts telling me to unlike it, before the fans caught wind of my true feelings.

I was contracted to defend it. So, I did. In every interview, I made sure to speak only good things about Betty. Even when her character was as good as dead to me. I ignored the sceptical look on interviewers faces when I told them how much I loved the show and characters and made sure I smiled. We were told that so many times it was practically drilled into us. We had to smile.

But I didn't want to smile. I knew our fans were wondering if I was okay, because in almost every photo, I looked tired and fed up. The others were the same, and that thought kept me sane. For every nauseating question I'd be asked about Betty's sex life, we would exchange discreet rolled eyes and secret smiles. Throughout the day I kept getting the overwhelming urge to stand up, and leave.

And never go back.

But I kept going, because part of me was still holding onto faith that the show would get better. I did fall in love with it, after all. Plus, I was with my best friends. I didn't want to quit the show and leave them. Even if Betty, as well as the show itself were emotionally draining me. We started season 3 like normal. Obviously, this year it was different. Comic con didn't happen because of the pandemic. Though there were small press appearances with social distancing measures in place. I spent a lot of time with family over the Summer and didn't travel at all. So, when it came to heading back to film after giving the go-ahead, I was excited to the see the others. I knew the show was still a mess but working with them was something I loved to do, regardless of bad writing.

Things were different, however. I knew as soon as I arrived, that the atmosphere in the writer's room was stifling. When I sat down, I almost felt suffocated. We'd already had script meetings on Zoom, and they seemed to go fine. As soon as I stepped foot inside, something was wrong. The secondary cast members were absent, which already set off alarm bells in my head. Normally, everybody was present for script read-throughs. So, when it was just the five of us, surrounded by writers and crew members, I felt like I was in a lion's den. They were all stony faced, and I immediately thought I'd done something wrong.

Our head writer, Rob Sacasa was sitting at the head of the table, a long rectangle we all gathered around for our first in person script read. His brother, Derek, was nowhere to be seen. I later found out that Derek had quit the show over so-called "creative differences". Normally, everyone would be talking animatedly and laughing. But our writers were silent. My cast mates sat around me, looking uncomfortable.

The night before, we'd gathered at another cast member Cole's apartment. We talked about the show, and after exchanging stories about how absurd our characters had become, we agreed we would leave if it got worse. The show was ruining any chance of a serious career for any of us. There were five of us that night. Me and Cole, who plays my on-screen love interest on the show. As well as Camila, KJ and Madeleine. They play three other main characters. Cole declared that as a cast, we were done. If the writing continued to deteriorate, and I knew it would, we were going to leave together.

Cole said he knew people who could easily get us out of the contract, so we thought we didn't have to worry about that. Though I was still sceptical. It seemed unlikely he'd know people high enough to take down TV executives, but I trusted him.

We kept our decision to leave the show under wraps. If the writers/producers found out, we'd be in trouble. No matter how much I hated the show at that point, fans still love it. They still love Betty, and if we left, that meant them finding new cast members. I didn't want to upset anyone. Especially our fans. But being there was driving me insane. I couldn't look at another script and let them ruin Betty even more. So, we were sitting around the writers table, and I was sweating. Bad.

I didn't know if I was getting sick, or just anxiety, but my hands were clammy around my script. Part of me wondered if somehow the writers had caught onto our pact. Though that was crazy, right? It was just the five of us hanging out. I got my answer when Rob spoke up, giving me a condescending nod across the table. His voice was no longer friendly, more of a growl. He asked me where I was planning on going when I left the show. I was speechless.

Had one of the other cast members told him?

I knew they wouldn't have, so how did he know? My heart was pounding, and it no longer felt like a script read-through. It was an interrogation. KJ jumped up to go to the bathroom, no doubt to escape the awkwardness. But he was ushered back to his seat. I should have noticed that. The way they manhandled my friend, shoving him back into his spot next to Camila. Maybe then I might have realised that something was seriously wrong. That we needed to get the hell out of there.

But I could feel a panic attack brewing. My heart was doing acrobatics, and I felt like I couldn't breathe. Like all the breath had been sucked from my lungs. I stared down at my script and read over the same highlighted line repeatedly until my eyes were blurring with tears. I couldn't bring myself to look up and face him. Which was crazy. Rob had always felt like a friend, so why was he acting like that?

At the corner of my eye, Camila was reaching over to comfort me, but Rob snapped at her, telling the girl to leave me alone. Cole looked like he was going to step in, but I somehow managed to coax words out of my throat. That was the moment I had a chance to leave. At least I thought I did. The words were tangled in my throat, but I couldn't say them. I was too scared to.

So, I told Rob I didn't know what he was talking about.

It was all I could say. My throat was dry like sandpaper, and I felt like I was going to be sick. Instead of interrogating me further, he asked us to hand over our phones. Which was like a kick in the gut.

I used Instagram a lot to document long nights of filming or hanging out with the others. It was harmful playing around; I didn't understand why he wanted them. Twisting around in my chair, I noticed the only door was blocked. The others noticed this too, but they just gave us some lame excuse, explaining it was so we could concentrate fully on the script.

"Bullshit." Cole had argued, but he was ignored.

When we refused to give them our phones, our contracts were brought up, and we were threatened. What with, I'm not sure. Rob spoke so convoluted; I couldn't understand what he was saying.

Though maybe that was the point. He sounded like he was talking in tongues and went through each section of our contract with this vindictive smile I don't think I'll ever get out of my head.

He was triumphant. And looking around at my cast mates, I knew we were fighting a losing battle. The threats worked. With every single person in that room against us, we stood down. We handed over our phones, and that was their first step in taking control of our lives. It sounds stupid that something as small as handing over your phone can change everything. But I had no idea what doing that would do. I'd let go of my one connection to our fans, as well as my family and friends.

Initially, it was just small things that changed. We weren't allowed our phones, and our social media were taken over, the passwords changed. I figured that was just in case we went live and told everyone we were planning on leaving. I tried several times to try the "forget your password" trick.

But the account had just been set to a different email address. My manager was quiet, so I guess she was on their side. Though I'm not surprised, she was good friends with Rob. Before they took my phone, I texted her I wanted to leave, and she read it, but didn't reply.

So, we were on our own with crumbling resources. But things weren't overly bad at that point. Despite knowing it was a bad idea to speak out, we planned to go to every media outlet we could think of, and report them for threatening us, as well as giving us shady contracts. Madeleine argued that it was impossible. That it would be their word against ours, but Cole was insistent.

He said, if we made it public then the fans would side with us. I believed him.

Our fans are passionate about the show, so I crossed my fingers. Weeks went by, and I started to notice a change on set, even if I was expecting it.

The following script read throughs had been almost painfully awkward. It wasn't just the phone thing, as well as getting our socials hijacked. I felt like I was being forced to play this character.

Set life was no longer fun. It was draining, and all I seemed to get was passive aggressive smiles from crew members I knew hated me. It's weird, it's like Rob had cast a spell across set, making sure everyone I walked past sneered at me, or made some backhanded comment about the five of us being "difficult". I used to be friendly with them. I used to share my lunch with them.

But I found myself avoiding them at all costs.

I hid away in my trailer a lot. With no phone and laptop (which they also took away) I was bored.

So, I read books in between shoots. I used to visit the others, but they always separated us, making sure we couldn't talk to each other. If I wanted to see Camila, she'd be trapped in hair and makeup, and the boys would be on set. I tried multiple times to talk to secondary cast members, and sure, they nodded and smiled, but it's like they weren't listening to me.

Like my words were going in one ear, and straight out the other.

The crew knew we didn't want to be there. So, they treated us differently. Even if we happened to be the main cast. It was discreet, so no other cast members caught on, but it was the type of low-key bullying I saw at high school. They would talk behind my back, or even in front of my face, trying to gaslight me into thinking I was the one in the wrong. That I was some spoiled brat who was throwing a fit because the show wasn't going the way I wanted. I decided I was going to quit, regardless of what Rob threatened us with.

I didn't care anymore. I just wanted to go home and forget everything. Forget the show, and Betty, like it was a bad dream. The others were going to come with me. KJ's the youngest out of us. He's from New Zealand. So he and the others were going to stay at my parents for a while. At least until we figured things out. I hadn't told my parents yet, but they knew I was heading over for Thanksgiving, which was only a few months away. I knew they would be fine with extra guests. They've met my cast mates before, and I knew they were happy to self-isolate at my parents' house. It was better than staying.

So, the five of us figured out a plan.

We decided to go to a well-known entertainment tabloid and tell them everything, including the mistreatment and threats. When it was out there, broadcasted, we would be free. At least that's what I thought. I remember that day being boiling hot. There was no breeze, and the humidity made my skin crawl. The air was dry, and on our usual ten-hour shoot, I was barely keeping it together.

I had to wear a thick sweater in ninety-degree heat, and I felt like I was going to pass out. I was thirsty but was rarely allowed to have a drink of water, despite my voice croaking. After the shoot, I was anticipating finally being able to tell our story. It was driving me nuts being on set, feeling judgemental eyes on me. Being general assholes was something I thought I could deal with. One more time. But refusing to let me drink water was just cruel and petty.

It wasn't just me. The crew made sure to make all our lives a misery. Camila was fat shamed in front of everyone. Rob told her to lose weight, or her character would start losing "sexual appeal".

They gave her smaller sized dresses during fittings and chastised her when she couldn't fit into a skirt. Camila didn't fight back. She just stood there and took the abuse, nodding in all the right places. She tearfully agreed that she needed to go on a diet. So, enough was enough. We were going to expose the show and get our lives back. I was no longer scared I was overreacting or paranoid. It was clear the show only cared about the characters. Betty was like gold to them, and I was nothing.

The night we were going to start putting our plan into action, I felt sick with nerves. I got changed at the end of the shoot and grabbed my stuff, heading out to meet the others.

The night prior Cole said he was going to use a friend's Instagram account and reach out to the tabloid. I know what you're thinking. We could have easily gotten a new phone each. But it's our accounts that labelled us official. If we made new ones, they would be taken down. We spend all day on set, so it's easier for them to keep tabs on us, but Cole managed to get in touch with a friend.

He didn't say the details. Just that he needed a verified account. Even if they didn't believe us, it would be headline news.

Heading out to the parking lot, I expected to see the usual. Cole and KJ sitting on the far wall, feet dangling, sharing a cigarette between them, and Madeleine and Camila talking quietly together. Our usual routine was to get an Uber back to our apartment building. Since they took our phones, the show usually got us a ride. But that night, there was no sign of the others. I figured I'd wait for them. It wasn't out of the line of possibility that they were still on set. It was a cool night, so I paced the parking lot.

Without my phone to listen to music, I was bored. My legs were aching. I was in a daze, thinking up the best- and worst-case scenarios of our plan in my head, when I heard footsteps.

I turned around with a smile, expecting to see my cast mates. I hadn't gotten a proper chance to speak to them all day, so I was itching to just talk to them and go over the plan. On set, they were the only people who made me feel safe and kept my sanity in check. Except it wasn't them. Instead of my four friends, I was staring at Rob.

His smile was nauseating, but I forced myself to greet him.

"Lili." He gave me a curt nod.

I smiled back, hoping a simple greeting would send him away. But he seemed overly happy about something. His eyes were glittering, a smirk pulling at his lips.

Rob commented about the weather, and I nodded along, hoping he'd go away, hoping the others appeared. But they didn't. They were nowhere to be seen, and I was starting to realise they weren't coming. And from the look on his face, he knew I was panicking.

My hands were jittering, so I shoved them in my jean's pockets. He stayed silent for a whole minute, and I was sure I was going to pass out. I was convinced he was doing it on purpose.

"Are you waiting for the Uber?" he asked. Rob didn't lose his smile.

I told him I was, and he started laughing. Like I'd just told him a joke.

"I didn't call one tonight." He said.

My stomach twisted. "What?"

Rob smiled, but there was no warmth in it. He shook his head like I was a child acting out.

"You will be staying somewhere else tonight. We've made alternative arrangements."

He said it cheerily, but there was something in his tone which told me I had no choice. And I didn't. My parents lived three thousand miles away. I had no phone, and my cast mates had disappeared.

I found myself nodding, even when burning bile was crawling up my throat. I wanted to ask where the others were, but Rob didn't seem inclined to tell me.

The writer told me to grab my stuff, which was just my bag and jacket, and follow him to his car. I did, swallowing the urge to ask him where the others were. My heart was stampeding in my chest, and my mind was on overdrive. Did I start crying out for help?

No, that was ridiculous. Anyone else would perceive what was happening as completely normal. Rob was giving me a ride to these so-called "alternative arrangements". But I knew something wasn't right. It wasn't helping that I still had no idea where my cast mates were. We had gone over every possible obstacle, every chance of something going wrong, whether it was big or small.

All day we had communicated though nods and winks, silently sealing the deal. It didn't make sense that they would just disappear.

The second I jumped into the backseat of his car, I knew Rob was aware of our plan, and he would stop at nothing to keep our mouths shut. The car ride was short, and I remember trying to figure out a way to dive out when he stopped the car, and just run for it. I had a twenty dollar note in my pocket. That's it.

I'd left the rest of my belongings, like my credit card and purse at home. The twenty was originally for something to eat, but I was barely allowed a break between shoots.

Grasping the money in my fist, I knew the twenty would get me cab fare to the city centre. From there I'd go to the police station and tell them everything. The area where we film is remote, and I quickly realised Rob was going in an opposite direction to the city centre. I started to panic, especially when he sent me knowing glances through the mirror. He knew exactly where the other cast members were and seeing me squirm was giving him a sickening satisfaction.

"The others," I finally managed to choke out when I twisted in my seat and only saw darkness through the window. There were barely any streetlights, and I couldn't stop myself.

It was like word vomit. "Where are they?"

Rob didn't answer for a moment, and when I was sure I was going to throw up, he chuckled. "You're shaking," his voice was like splintered ice. "I don't know why you're sitting there acting like I'm driving you to your death. Pull yourself together."

Gaining confidence, I sat up straight. "Where are you taking me?" I asked in a steady voice. "Where are the others?"

"Others?" Rob switched on the radio and cranked it up, swaying in his seat to a slow song crackling through the speakers. He was playing mind-games.

"Yes, the others." I said sharply. "What did you do to them?"

His gaze didn't leave the road. "They're sick," he murmured. "Not the virus, I'm sure of it. The disease is inside their head, and I've sent them away to get better."

Something cold slithered down my spine. "Sick?"

My brain whirred with questions. What disease? What was he talking about?

"Yes." He tapped the steering wheel, and my head started to pound. My cheeks felt like they were burning. Maybe I was sick. My stomach had been galloping all day. "Like you, Lili. The five of you have been showing symptoms all week, but we figured tonight would be the best time to send you to a place where you can get better."

"Symptoms?" Was all I could say with the gutter of my throat. "What symptoms?"

"Don't you worry about that right now, Lili," he hummed. "We're going to make you better. After all, we can't have you spewing your rambling delusions online, can we?"

Before I could speak, he continued. His fingers were turning white gripping the steering wheel. "It's okay, Lili. We're going to help you. You don't want to embarrass yourself."

No. I wanted to scream at him, but I felt like I was paralysed. He was making out like I was crazy, like we were crazy for wanting to leave the show.

All of this because of a TV show.

All because of Betty.

That's all he wanted. Rob wanted Betty.

I didn't cry. Crying would look pathetic. Crying would only add fuel to his fire that I was crazy.

"I want to go home."

The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. I felt like a child. But I was scared. I was so fucking scared.

Rob didn't reply after that, and I was left to my thoughts. My plan to make a run for it had fallen through. We were in the middle of nowhere. There was no way I could find a cab at the time of night, and I had no phone. No way to contact anyone.

When Rob parked outside what looked like a rundown hotel, I pressed my face against the window, considering using my bag as a make-shift weapon. The place loomed over me, a silhouette of a dark building. The only light was the sign on the front, the name written in neon purple cursive. I was ushered out of the car before I could try and attempt to break away. Rob kept a firm hold of my arm. When I tugged at it, telling him to let me go, he assured me it was for my own safety.

So I didn't hurt myself.

I asked questions, but they were all ignored. The hotel reception was not much of anything; a small room with bright yellow walls and a sitting area where ironically, reruns of our show were playing.

A tired looking man in a suit behind a desk fell into conversation with Rob. I tried to listen in, but they spoke in hissed whispers I could barely understand.

I heard our names. All five of us. After ten minutes of me dazedly watching my character Betty run though a forest, chased by a man in a mask, Rob grabbed my shoulder and pulled me towards a set of brown mahogany doors, and then up a carpeted stairs. The place looked abandoned. Like we were the only ones inside. I was taken up three flights of stairs and pulled down a narrow hallway with the same sickly yellow paint peeling on the walls. I was shoved inside the first room, and before I could turn around and try and dive past him, Rob was slamming the door in my face.

The sound of a lock clicking into place sent my heart into my throat.

The room was tiny and box-like with the same paintwork. There were two single beds and sitting on one of them was KJ. He'd previously had his head planted in his lap and looked up sharply. His eyes were swollen. He'd been crying. "Lils?"

We hugged. I asked him what the hell was going on, and he had no idea. Rob had taken him and the others before me. When I asked where Cole, Camila and Madeleine were, he shook his head with a frown. "No clue." his accent felt warm and familiar, something I needed.

KJ explained that Rob had told him and the others the same thing. That they were sick and needed help. He also said the windows were locked, and the phone on the bedside cupboard had been disconnected. There was no way we could reach out to the outside world.

That night, I slept. The bed was small, and I could barely fit on it, but I was so tired I didn't care. I don't know how I managed to fall asleep though. I was exhausted from the shoot, but my brain wouldn't shut up, and Rob's words played like a stuck record in my head. Before I knew it, the windows were flooded with sunlight, and KJ was standing over me, shaking me. I got up quickly, only to find Rob standing in the doorway.

In his hands were two glasses of water.

KJ made sure to greet him with verbal abuse. Which I was thankful for. I was barely awake and couldn't string two words together.

"Colourful." Rob said, smirking at my cast mate. The boy was practically vibrating with fury next to me.

Though I'm not surprised. KJ has ADHD so he's prone to flying off the handle.

"I'm here to take you to set!" Rob looked fresh in a brand-new suit, while we were in yesterday's sweats. He must have seen my expression. "Oh no, don't you worry! I've got clothes ready downstairs, and breakfast is on its way. I've ordered McDonalds."

My mouth watered at the thought of food after barely eating anything the day before.

"Oh! Before I forget, it's mandatory you both take these."

Setting the glasses of water on the bedside table, Rob pulled something out of his pocket, holding it up to the light. I squinted. It was a tiny blue pill.

Whatever appetite I'd garnered at the thought of breakfast bled away. My chest tightened. "For your condition." He said, when none of us moved.

KJ sputtered, breaking the silence. "You're kidding, right?"

Rob shook his head, maintaining a wide smile. "It's for your health. Take the pill voluntarily, or we'll have to take appropriate measures." He strode over to KJ and dropped the pill into the boy's hand. Then mine.

This time his eyes were hard. "Take it."

We had no choice. With Rob stood there watching us intently, I gave in and popped the pill into my mouth, taking a sip of water. It didn't taste of anything, and I had to swallow twice because it got lodged in the back of my throat. After a moment, KJ took his too. None of us wanted to, but it was either we did so, or Rob was true to his word, and enforced "appropriate measures." which I was sure was going to be him forcing it down our throat.

After we took the pill, I expected side effects. But nothing happened. It wasn't until I was on set when I started feeling weird. I can't explain it. I've been on mental health meds before and I know the side-effects can make you tired and dazed. I felt like that, but a lot worse. It was like being in a trance. The hours of the day blurred together, and I could barely remember talking to anyone, or conversations I had. It was a mess in my head. Even now after two days of not taking it, my head still feels foggy.

Though I did notice one thing. Through the fog, a coherent thought began to bloom inside my mind. Cole wasn't on set. He wasn't anywhere. I'd seen Camila and Madeleine, but I can't remember talking to them. This is their way of shutting us up and stopping us from leaving the show. Drugging us. Heavily. Two days ago, Rob came in with the same pill.

KJ took his like normal. I hid mine under my tongue and faked swallowing it. Rob fell for it, and my head is starting to clear up. I've seen the effects of the pill on KJ. It turns us into zombies.

KJ still talks to me, but most of the time it's senseless rambling that makes no sense. He told me to post on here, so I am. Cole is still missing, but I know if I ask about him, they'll know I'm sober. They'll know I'm not taking the pill. I'm not risking it. I'm going to clear my head completely and find Cole.

I managed to get this phone from the prop department. They have a bag of old and new iPhones. There's no cellular service though. I can only get WIFI.

If I can, I'll update you in a few days. I'm waiting for the pill to completely wear off.

I need to think straight. I need to find Cole and get all of us the hell out of here.

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