Emily is alone, entering a deserted hospital in the middle of the night. Something like a velvet red carpet awaits her behind the door and she follows it. However, her footsteps begin to be marked in the carpet, of a shiny and nauseating red tone – fresh blood. Emily smiles as she feels the smell of the blood in the air – it's delicious.
She climbs some stairs - blood dripping from each step. The noise of babies crying can be heard. As she turns right, nurses await here – nurses with full black eyes. Emily walks past them, not even making eye contact. They are nothing more than slaves, completely disposable.
Emily stops by a glass wall and looks at all the delicious babies at the other side.
"It's dinner time." She states, smiling.
"Ahhhhh!" Emily screams, opening her eyes. Her mother hugs her almost immediately.
"It's okay honey, everything is okay." She says.
Emily looks around. She is back at the motel room. She starts to cry.
"It was only a dream, sweetie. It can't hurt you." Lydia assures her.
"Yeah, honey, there's nothing to be afraid. We are here, right beside you." Martin reassures, hugging her as well.
Emily nods, but continues to cry. The dream was too vivid, too real. In fact, it wasn't a dream at all. It was a memory. She had killed all those babies, those poor innocent babies. She was nothing but a monster.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
The three of them look at the door - frozen. Emily stops crying.
"Hey, it's the receptionist. One of the previous guests lost something and, of course, he lost it here. Can I come in?"
Martin sighs and Lydia plus Emily relax.
"We are safe, honey. No need to be afraid." Martin states, more to convince himself than his daughter, and kisses her in the forehead.
He then gets up and goes to the door, opening it.
"Hi." The receptionist greets, with a smile.
"Ahhh!" Emily screams, once again. Martin looks back at his daughter, terrified, and then back at the receptionist, who watches Emily, curiously.
Looking back at Martin, the receptionist shifts his eyes black. "Surprise." And, with a fast movement, he takes Mr. Fremont's heart out of his chest.
Martin falls on the floor, drowning in the pool of his own blood. Emily screams while Lydia's eyes are fixed in her husband – dead. She looks back at the demon.
"Now, it's your turn." He states, amused.
Lydia grabs Emily and takes her to the bathroom, locking the door.
"Oh, how pathetic."
Emily continues to cry. "We are going to die and it's all my fault."
"No one is going to die! You hear me, no one!"
"But daddy…" Emily mutters.
Lydia closes her eyes, trying to forget the image of her dying husband. She can't think of that now. She has to be strong, for Emily.
"You are not going to die, Em, I promise." Lydia assures, with more determination than she ever had and, somehow, Emily believes her.
"Nighty nigh." The demon taunts – his voice right beside the door while Lydia prays for a miracle.