9:00 PM, too early to sleep yet too late to do anything else. She sat on the edge of her bed, staring up at the TV as it flashed in front of her. The screen was awfully fuzzy, and the sound quality was as good as a radio's from the 1940's. She complained to herself, throwing her head back.

She automatically turned towards the window across the room from her. The sky was dark, cloudy, and the rain has gotten heavier compared to before, but hell, she needed some fresh air. The motel's heat was just about the only satisfying thing about it, turning a room into a sauna within 25 minutes. Besides, it was also a great opportunity to have a smoke.

She crept out of her suite, walking slowly along the balcony as the door clicked behind her. She took a nice, long minute to let the cool air hit her face and enter her body before placing a cigarette between her bony fingers, watching the tip wither with small flames as she ran her thumb across the lighter. She pressed her lips around it, feeling the smoke travel through her, tickling her throat along the way. She didn't particularly enjoy smoking. I mean, who did? She hated the addiction, but with all the stress in her life, quitting was not an option.

She then held her free hand out as it dangled over the railing, and within less than a second, she started feeling heavy drops of rain slam onto her palm. She smiled a little, not knowing exactly why. I mean, she hated the rain for many obvious reasons, but it's just that it felt sort of... refreshing. Anyway, she turned to look behind her, unaware that Ethan's room was directly across from her. It was weird, because his door was open. At that moment, she started to feel worried.

I knew I should have checked on him one last time! She panicked to herself, letting the burning cigarette fall from her grasp and onto the dampened cement below her. She made the decision to step into the room for a brief moment, just to assure that he was okay. But he wasn't.

She stood there, stiff as a board. There laid Ethan, passed out on the beige carpet. He looked even worse than before, blood stains covering his knee caps, forearms, and stomach. What could he possiblyhave done within 8 hours?

She closed his door behind her, rushing to kneel down beside him. She didn't notice anything else that was different about him, besides his new injuries. She couldn't help but brush her fingers against his face before struggling to lift him onto the bed.

Once he was properly lying down, she started to sweep his hair to the side of his forehead, noticing his old cut. "Ethan? Ethan, can you hear me?" No answer.

She breathed slowly, calming herself down. He obviously wasn't dead, because he was still breathing and making sound. Her motherly instincts started to kick in while she reached for his forehead. He started to blink and moan.

"You're burning up." She mumbled to him, all he did was close his eyes again. She started to observe his body again, reminding herself that most of his fresh cuts were bleeding from underneath his clothes.

She started by rolling his shirt up, which caused him to open his eyes again. "We have to get your clothes off to treat your injuries." He wasn't going to enjoy it, which he showed by whimpering whenever she touched his bare skin, but she didn't want anything to get infected. She sat him up and pulled the bloody shirt over his head. He cried out, so she tried to sooth him by laying him down once again.

To her surprise, he wasn't in the worst shape. His arms were deeply cut into and raw wounds peaked out from the rips in his pants. He also had a few unnoticeable burn-marks along his chest. He continued to grunt in pain, and her curiosity grew, but she had to push her questions aside and treat him.

"Your arms are cut up, and so are your knees." She slid off of the side of his bed and into the bathroom, once again hunting through the medicine cabinet, which he hasn't touched since. This time, she took everything she could find, just because she knew that he needed it all. She didn't bother to take her time, she just secured the variety of medications into her arms until she dumped them onto his night stand. Once everything was in place, she sat next to his half-naked body.

"I'll try to do what I can." Again, she placed her hand on his forehead, and then on his chest.

Delicately, she dabbed his arms with the disinfectant right before she wrapped them with a thick gauze, repeating the procedure on his legs. She wasn't sure if it was necessary, but coated his minor burns with a small amount of ointment anyway. Once he was "all patched up", she fed him an anti-fever pill and the next thing she knew, he was asleep again. No matter what, she knew that she had to stay. It was risky to leave before he woke up. Who knows what he can get himself into again?

Three hours. Three hours of watching him toss and turn violently. She would pace back and forth, and do whatever else she could to keep her eyes open. Three hours is what it took for him to finally wake up to find her starring him down with tired eyes and wrinkled clothing. He almost seemed frightened to see her once again, yet, who blamed him?

"Are you feeling alright?" She smiled weakly at him. He darted up from the bed and turned to sit on the edge, holding his rib cage. "I've been better. Was I out for long?"

"'Bout three hours. It's almost one in the morning." She yawned.

They exchanged looks for a moment before he spoke up. "Why the 'guardian angel' act? You don't even know me."

"Well, I wasn't just going to leave you lying on the floor in a condition like that! That would be foolish of me. Plus, I was a mother myself. I know how to do things, especially heal wounds, which you have been getting a lot of." She slightly cocked her head sideways. "Why's that?"

"Pardon?" He coughed a little, reaching for his shirt.

"How did you manage to slit your wrists and knees open like that?" He inspected his wrapped limbs as she addressed them, tugging the shirt back over his head. "Was it an accident? On purpose?" She was worried about him, and she wanted to know his answers, but all she got was silence and an upset look on his face. He got up to walk over to the opposite corner of the room.

"You can always talk to me if you have any kind of problem." She stood up from the chair, following him as he layered himself with his jacket and stood at his desk. She honestly just noticed it.

"Listen, I'm truly grateful for your help; but for your own sake, I think it's better if you don't ask any questions." He confronted her gently.

"It ain't like... it ain't..." Her trail of words faded off. Ethan became confused, noticing she was starring at something... something behind him. It was a box, a shoe box. It was an ecru-brown color and the sticker on it was torn off at the edges.

The worst part, though? The cardboard lid was falling off of the top of the box enough to expose the 5 colorful origami figures that laid inside; a bear, a butterfly, a lizard, a shark, and a rat, all neatly folded except for the bear and butterfly. It.. it couldn't be. The Origami Killer.

She remembered doing shit loads of research on the Origami Killer once she recovered from losing Johnny. She remembered everything, how the children are murdered, how much time it takes, when it's done, who is targeted, especially what the parents have to go through to save their children. It was all brutal and terrifying, yet it still hasn't been found out why it's all done.

He examined her eye movements for another moment before swiping his head back. "God dammit." He let out under his breath, struggling to straighten out the cover of the shoe box.

"You're.. you're Ethan Mars..." She blurted out. "You're the father of 10-year-old Shaun Mars, the newest victim of the Origami Killer... aren't you?" She trembled, her eyes getting glossy from uncontrollable tears.

He swallowed heavily, avoiding eye contact with her. "Please, Lauren. Leave."

"But, Ethan, I can hel-"

"No one can help me!" She backed off suddenly from the tone of his voice. After noticing he startled her, he calmed down a bit. "You've already done a lot... Lauren."

"Ethan, you don't und-"

"Just leave." He pointed a finger towards the bedroom door, not caring about what she had to say next. He didn't care that she knows what he's going through, or that she lost her son to the Origami Killer. He just didn't want to hear it.

He refused to make eye contact with her as the moment continued. Sorrow and anger built up inside of her, though the only thing that escaped her body was a single tear.

She walked out of the room without looking back again.

A/N: I know that the story may seem kind of useless so far, considering Lauren's dialogue & actions seem too similar to Madison's, but I'm doing my best to change everything up a bit for the next chapter.

On another note, I hope I'm not making Lauren way too mushy. She's one of those characters who doesn't do certain things one way and one way only. For example, she could either act really sweet towards someone or act like a bitch. She could also either talk politely to someone or talk like a bitch, but that's what's interesting about her. She's a fun character to experiment with.

So yeah, thanks for reading and stuff!

P.S. I'm sorry if it takes me a while to update the story. I like to make sure my chapters are good enough to publish before I actually do publish them, so bare with me! No matter how long it may take me to update, I did NOT forget about the fanfic.