The message has not been on the mirror long enough for it to fully dry, so it doesn't take much time or effort to scrub it off of the glass. That knowledge only makes Tim more apprehensive. Somehow, during the – what, five? Ten? – minutes he had been in the bathroom, someone had broken into their hotel room and written the message on the mirror. How could he have not heard them?

And Jay had been in the same room as the intruder, completely unaware and unable to defend himself in his unconscious state. So many things could have happened in that short span of time if the intruder had had more intentions than simply writing a threatening note on a mirror. Tim feels sick as his mind starts to mercilessly come up with a dozen different scenarios far worse than what had actually happened. He glances down at the blotchy red stains on the towel, and he has the sudden urge to throw up. He tosses the towel into the hotel room's closet with disgust and shuts the door.

Pulling out a granola bar and water bottle from his backpack, Tim goes over to Jay's beside and sets the two items on the nightstand. Bending over the sleeping form, Tim give Jay a gentle shake. "Jay. Jay, you need to wake up."

It only takes a few seconds of prodding for Jay to sleepily open his eyes. His face is half-pressed into the hotel pillow and for a moment he stares at it in confusion. Then he shifts his body and his gaze falls onto Tim. He jerks upwards in surprise, one hand clutching the bed sheets tightly.

"Whoa, calm down!" Tim exclaims, his hands held out in front of him in a sign of surrender. "It's just me."

Breathing heavily, Jay tears his eyes away from Tim and glances around the room. "Where are we?" Relief passes through Tim. Jay's voice – though sleepy – no longer sounds like someone had just heavily drugged him. He sounds a lot more together…more Jay.

"Some gross old hotel as far away from Rosswood Park as I could find," Tim answers. He tries vainly to keep the bitterness he feels about the situation out of his voice.

"Oh." Jay's gaze lingers on the door leading to the outside hallway. "You sure we weren't followed?"

Tim hesitates for a moment. "No," he says finally. "No, I'm sure."

Jay sighs in relief, then looks about with sudden anxiety. "My camera. Did you get my camera? Where is it?"

Tim nods behind him to the camera sitting on top of the hotel dresser. Jay looks slightly relieved, but the expression is almost instantly replaced with alarm. "It's not recording. Why is it not on?" he demands.

Tim fights back the urge to sigh in aggravation. He walks over to the camera, turns it on, and returns to where he was standing beside Jay's bed. "Happy?"

Jay nods silently, staring at the camera. Tim glances back at the troublesome thing, then shakes his head slightly. "Jay. Do you remember anything about yesterday? Do you remember when you had called me?"

Jay reluctantly pulls his gaze away from the camera, fixing it on Tim instead. "Yesterday?"

"Yeah, last night. You called me. I couldn't hear everything you were saying because there was so much static coming through the phone. But it was you. Do you remember that?"

Jay's forehead creases in concentration as he struggles to recall the event. Finally, he shakes his head. "No."

Tim's disappointed, but not surprised. He just wishes he knew where Jay had gotten a phone, and where that phone had gone. Because he's certain he had not seen one in the building he had found Jay in. Tim asks another question, though he's pretty sure he knows what the answer is going to be. "Well, do you remember anything before today?" Like where you've been for the past two years?

Jay looks at Tim oddly, as though that was the silliest question a person could be asked. He opens his mouth to say something but stops, a frown spreading across his face. He focuses on his knees bent before him, staring at them as he tries to think. A few moments pass in agonizing silence as Jay sits there, staring and thinking. His body starts to shake in both panic and fury. "I…I…" Jay groans and leans forward, clutching his head with the hand not wrapped in the bed sheets. "My head…"

Well, it was worth a try. Trying to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach, Tim turns to the bed's nightstand and picks up the water bottle and granola bar. "Jay," he says, holding items out. "You have to eat and drink something. It's been hours, and I have no idea how long you've been going on without food or drink before I found you."

Jay's demeanor immediately changes as he eyes the food and water. He scowls, and ignores the offered items. "I don't want them."

Tim sighs in frustration. "Are you really going to make this difficult? You can't not eat or drink."

"I'll only throw it all up."

"You don't know that."

Jay gives a hollow laugh. "Really. Well, the queasy feeling in my stomach is telling me otherwise."

"Well, tell your stomach to man up." Tim unscrews the cap off of the water bottle and shoves it in Jay's face. "Here."

Jay shoots Tim a dark look, but he takes the bottle. He shifts it in his grip, eyeing the liquid warily. Looking the most displeased Tim's ever seen him, Jay lifts the bottle to his lips and pours the water into his mouth. He drinks less than a fifth of the bottle before he pulls it away, his mouth still full of water and his face scrunched up in distaste. Tim takes the bottle as Jay swallows the remainder of the liquid.

A second passes, and nothing happens. "See?" Tim says triumphantly. "You're fine." Setting the water bottle down, Tim partially unwraps the granola bar and holds it out towards Jay. "Now some food."

"I really don't think –"

"Eat it," Tim orders.

"Yes, mother…" Jay mutters, taking the food and carefully biting off a piece. He waits a few seconds, then takes another, larger bite of the granola bar. Satisfied, Tim turns away to get some food for himself. But he hasn't even taken a step towards the backpack when Jay makes a choked sound – and proceeds to vomit onto the white bed sheets.

Tim's back at Jay's side instantly, but is unable to do much except watch as Jay heaves up the small amount of granola bar he had eaten, mixed in with yellow-ish bile. It's over soon, and Tim reaches out to wrap his arms around Jay's shoulders, holding him upright. Jay leans heavily against Tim's arms, gasping. "Told you…" he says weakly.

Tim sighs, trying to avoid looking at the pool of vomit as he maneuvers Jay away from it. "Yeah, well, you're going to have to eat sometime. We'll just have to keep trying until you're able to keep something down."

"No…way…"

"You can't waste away into nothing Jay. Not that there's much left of you to waste away."

Jay tries to glare at Tim, but the expression turns into a sickly grimace as he clutches his stomach. He squeezes his eyes shut and an agonizing moan escapes his lips.

Tim watches Jay quietly, pity quickly overcoming his exasperation. "Okay, let's just move you to the other bed first." He gently grasps Jay's right shoulder and upper arm, helping Jay crawl off of the ruined bed and onto the other one. Jay collapses against the pillows, wincing at the impact.

"Just…just give me a few minutes before you try shoving something else down my throat," Jay says, staring at the far wall to focus his senses and ease the nausea.

Tim rolls his eyes. "Okay, sure, no problem." He picks up the water bottle and holds it out to Jay. "Here. To wash down that bile taste."

Jay looks slightly abashed, but he takes the water without complaint and drinks a few mouthfuls. His hand not holding up the water bottle presses against his stomach in an attempt to steady the queasiness. Tim's gaze slides away from Jay's hand to the shirt it's clutching. "Hey, I know this probably isn't the best time, but when you can you should probably change out of those clothes. They're filthy."

Jay sets down the water bottle. "I would, but I don't have anything else to change into." The statement sounds slightly bitter, but it comes across as hopeless more than anything else.

Tim gestures towards his duffel bag. "You can borrow some of my clothes until we can get some for you." He nods towards the bathroom. "It might not be a bad idea to take a shower too. Not that you smell bad – particularly – but it might make you feel better. It does when I'm sick, at least."

Jay studies Tim with a curious expression. "Why are you helping me?" he asks.

Tim stares at Jay in surprise. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, why are you going through all this trouble for me? We're not even that good of friends."

The words hurt Tim – a lot more than he'd care to admit, actually – but he keeps his face neutral. "I don't know. I just…we've been through a lot together, you and me. I just think that –"

"We have?"

Jay is watching him with a bewildered look. He seems slightly embarrassed. "I mean, I know we worked on Alex's movie together. But I didn't even know you before that. And, I think…know we've seen each other a few times since that, but…" Jay frowns and rubs his forehead. He growls in frustration. "I swear, I know there's something more. A lot more. The pieces are there, but it's like they're out of order. Some are clear, some are blurry, and others – they're completely blacked out." He sighs. "I don't know."

Tim watches Jay with a pained look. He bites his lip and glances away for a second, unsure what to say. Unsure where to start. "Look, Jay," he says finally. "You're right – there's a lot you don't remember. And I'm going to try to help you to. But…right now we're also in a lot of danger. There's someone out there who wants to hurt us –"

"The man with the skeleton mask," Jay says tiredly.

Tim looks at Jay sharply. "What?"

Jay blinks at Tim in surprise. "You haven't seen him?"

"Seen who?" demands Tim. "Seen who, Jay?"

Jay glances away for a second, his face drawn in concentration, as though he wasn't sure himself. "I don't know. I – I just remember a man wearing this white mask…"

"You mean the man in the yellow jacket?"

Jay shakes his head. "No. A different man. A different mask. This mask looks like a skeleton face – it looks nothing like the other man's."

"Where did you see him?" Tim asks anxiously. "In here? In the hotel room?"

Jay gives Tim a strange look. "No, not here." He frowns, staring at nothing in particular as he tries to recall the memory. "In the woods, I think."

"In Rosswood?"

Jay shrugs. "I guess."

Chills run down Tim's arms. He wonders if that was the figure he had seen on Judge's Trail.

Jay grits his teeth and presses the heels of his hands against his forehead, squeezing his eyes shut. "Tim, what is going on? I don't understand anything that's happening."

That makes two of us. "It's gonna be fine, Jay. We'll figure it out."

"And what about me?" Jay says, his voice suddenly anxious, almost child-like. "What's wrong with me?"

Tim is completely at a loss at what to say. "Look, right now we're both exhausted. Just…take a shower, and maybe a good night's sleep will help us both think better in the morning."

Jay doesn't look comforted one bit, and Tim doesn't blame him. Jay gets up from the bed with a small sigh and starts walking towards the bathroom. "Jay, hold on." Tim tugs his duffel bag onto the bed and shuffles through it, pulling out a plain t-shirt and jeans. It's the only other pair of jeans he has besides the ones he's wearing, but he doesn't want Jay to be stuck in the disgusting pants he's been wearing for two years straight. Jay takes the clothes with a grateful nod and goes into the bathroom. A minute later the sound of the shower running drifts dully through the bathroom door.

Tim goes over to the hotel phone and dials the front desk. A woman answers and he asks for new bed sheets to be brought to the room, to which the woman assures they'll be brought up shortly. Tim mutters a quiet thank you and hangs up, feeling so tired his body is aching with the pain of it. Trying to ignore the increasing intensity of the smell of the vomit, he digs through his backpack and pulls out a granola bar, eating it without much interest.

The hotel maid comes up while Jay is still in the shower and changes the bed sheets, showing no reaction over the vomit-soaked ones she has to cart away. Tim feels a pang of sympathy for her – he's sure that's far from the worst mess she's had to clean up before. When Jay comes out of the bathroom wearing Tim's borrowed clothes (far too baggy for him, unsurprisingly) Tim can notice a slight improvement. Jay's skin, though still alarmingly pale, is less sickly looking in its pallor; his eyes seem brighter too, more focused. But the lines in his face and bags beneath his eyes are still there, a testament to how worn out he is, despite having done almost nothing except sleep for the past two days.

Tim takes a quicker shower than Jay had, but by the time he's done Jay is already fast asleep. Tim considers shutting off the camera, but after a glance over at Jay he leaves it, instead plugging it into its charger. With a groan he sinks onto his bed. His mind is racing through everything that's happened in the past two days, but exhaustion quickly overcomes all manner of thought and he drifts off into an uneasy sleep.

/

He wakes up to screaming.

Tim shoots up in his bed, and after the moment it takes to register where he is, he lunges for the lamp on the nightstand. Dull orange light stretches over the room, illuminating a writhing body in the bed to Tim's left. "Jay!" He bolts out of his bed and rushes to the neighboring bedside. Jay's body contorts savagely, his fingers clawing at the sheets. His screaming does not cease, it just goes on and on, each scream more terrified than the last.

"Jay!" Tim shouts. He grabs Jay by the shoulders and shakes him so hard he nearly lifts Jay's thin body off of the bed. Jay's eyes shoot open and he jerks out of Tim's grasp, his screaming quickly fading into panicked gasps.

"Wh – wha –" Jay chokes out as he tries to suck air into his lungs. He looks about wildly until his eyes find Tim's shadowed form in the dim lighting. He jumps, tugging at the sheets that had twisted around his body. "Tim," he gasps.

"Holy crap, Jay," Tim says breathlessly. "Are you okay?"

Jay's entire body is shaking. He manages a tiny nod, avoiding Tim's gaze. "Yeah," he says quietly. "Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you."

"It's not your fault," Tim says, more aggressively than he had meant to. He wasn't angry at Jay; he was angry at everything that had happened to Jay. Angry that he had been stalked and taken by that faceless monster, angry that that bastard Alex had shot him, and angry he, Tim, was the source of it all. Guilt burns in Tim as he attempts to give Jay a reassuring look, though that seems pointless since Jay isn't even looking at him. "Don't worry about it. Are you…are you gonna be alright?"

Jay nods again, his gaze still downcast. Tim eyes him warily, but does not press for anything more. If Jay doesn't want to tell him about the nightmare, that's his business. "Okay," Tim says, his tone cautious. "Just, try to get some more rest."

Jay doesn't answer. Tim returns to his bed and glances over at Jay, who has brought his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms tightly around his legs. His chin is buried in-between the tops of his knees, and his eyes are fixed on the camera sitting on the dresser. He is completely still, staring at the pinprick of red light.

Tim hesitates. "Jay," he says quietly. "You want me to leave the light on?"

At first, Jay doesn't move. Then, he gives a nod so small Tim almost doesn't see it in the dimness. Tim moves his hand away from the lamp switch and he sinks onto his pillow, turning his back to Jay. Silence fills the room, though neither of the two go to sleep for what seems like a long time after that.

Jay wakes up four more times that night. Nightmares aren't the source of the first two times; he simply jolts awake and promptly begins throwing up over the edge of the bed onto the hotel carpeting. There is no food in his body to give, so the vomit is simply yellow-ish bile. There are no bowls for Tim to give Jay to use and there's not much he can do to clean up the mess, so he settles with lying bathroom towels over the vomit and letting them soak up what they can.

The two times after that are from nightmares. Jay is screaming again, and by the time Tim makes it to his side Jay looks like he's already awake. But his eyes – though open – are seeing things Tim cannot, and his hands are grasping for something Tim does not have. The screaming doesn't last long though, and soon it fades into frantic rambling, most of which Tim can't make out besides a few scattered words.

"Ale…ex…O – operator…wa – watch…ng…always…"

Tim frowns and tries to wake Jay – the attempt is unsuccessful. He considers getting one of his pills and somehow rousing Jay enough so he's able to take it. But before he can decide whether to do so or not, Jay's rambling softens into murmurs and soon his eyes are closing as he drifts back into full unconsciousness. Tim sighs, and sits on the edge of his bed with his head in his hands, all hope for sleep lost now.

He must have dozed off at some point though, because he's woken up for the fifth time that night to quiet sobbing. Jay is curled up on his side, facing away from Tim. The sobs that shake Jay's body aren't loud, so Tim knows he couldn't have been in that deep of a sleep. Then again, he doesn't really ever sleep too deeply. He walks over to Jay's bed. As soon as he reaches it, Jay's eyes shoot open and he inhales a breathy gasp. His eyes meet Tim's, and shame seeps into them as he holds Tim's concerned gaze. Tears continue to flow, despite the sobs having stopped, and run down his face in long streaks.

Tim doesn't say anything. He simply sits down on the edge of Jay's bed, his back facing Jay's. Jay stares at him, but Tim doesn't turn around. Tim just sits there, staring into the shadows, his back just barely touching Jay's legs. Surprisingly, that small touch is comforting enough to calm Jay down. It's clear Tim isn't going to be moving from Jay's bed, so Jay slowly turns his head around again, facing away from Tim. He pulls the sheets closer around him, and stares ahead. They do not move for the remainder of the night.

/

Jay is able to eat two granola bars and finish off one of the water bottles the following morning, to Tim's great relief. Tim does not mention the events of last night, and if Jay remembers any of it he does not say anything. When Tim suggests they buy some clothes for Jay, Jay rejects the idea, insisting that he has plenty back at his apartment, if Tim is willing to drive him there.

"Jay," Tim says carefully. "Your apartment…it burned down."

Jay stares at him. "What?"

Tim looks at Jay sympathetically. "I'm sorry."

"When?" Jay demands.

Tim hesitates to answer. But he knows Jay will have to learn everything sooner or later, so he decides there's no point in lying. "Years ago."

"Years?" Jay's eyes widen in shock. "But…how? Was there an accident? Do you know anything about it?"

"No more than you do…or you did, before," Tim answers dully.

Jay clenches his jaw. "I need to know."

Tim looks at Jay in exasperation. "I just told you, I don't know."

"No, not about the apartment; I hated that place anyway." Jay throws his arms up slightly, as though unsure what to do with them. He looks lost, but he looks angry too. "I need to know everything that's happened since then. If what you've been telling me is true, I'm missing years from my memory. I – I have no idea what's going on right now, what's happened to me…" Jay looks at Tim in a way that's almost accusing. "Do you have any idea what that's like?"

Tim's muscles tighten rigidly, and he stares Jay straight in the eye. "Yes. I do."

Jay's jaw loosens, his eyes softening in surprise.

Tim sighs. "Look, Jay. You want your memories back. And I want you to get your memories back – for both our sakes. No offense," he adds, upon seeing Jay's affronted expression. "And the faster we get you to remember, the faster we can figure out what's going on." He hesitates a moment, debating. Then he pulls his backpack over and draws out his laptop. "I don't know if this will work, but it's worth a shot." Opening it, he brings up the Marble Hornets YouTube channel. He glances up at Jay, who's sitting opposite of him on the other bed. Since they're facing each other, Jay can't see Tim's laptop screen – only the plastic backing of it. But Jay doesn't strain to see what Tim is pulling up on the computer; he simply sits patiently, eyes on Tim. That glimpse of patient trust Jay used to have for Tim so long ago does nothing to ease Tim's conscience.

I'm sorry Jay. But I can't have you know everything yet. Guilt tugs at Tim as he moves his cursor over the screen. But then the action is done, and Entry 87 has been deleted from the Marble Hornets channel. Tim considers deleting all of the entries with Jessica in them, but Jay would definitely notice if the earlier entries were missing from the numbered list. Since Entry 87 is the very last one, Tim can get away with claiming that the entries ended on 86.

"Here," Tim says, turning the laptop around and passing it over to Jay.

Jay stares at the page for a moment. Something flickers in his eyes, and a shadow of recognition dawns on his face. "This is…I made these."

"Yeah," Tim says quietly. "You did."

Jay is silent as he scrolls through the video list, reading the entry numbers, studying the thumbnails. Finally, he reaches "Introduction."

Tim suddenly stands, startling Jay. Tim shoots Jay an apologetic glance, fidgeting with his cell phone between his hands and all of the sudden looking very out-of-place. "I think you should watch these alone," Tim says. His tone is solemn, and uneasy. "It'll take a while to get through them all, but you wanted your answers, so there you go. I…I'll go to some stores nearby for some food…and things. I'll be back sometime around late afternoon – you should be able to finish them by then. There's more food in my backpack, and the other water bottle's pretty much still full. But please, please, do not leave this room. Do not answer the door for anyone but me. Promise me, Jay."

Jay looks slightly annoyed at the last request. "I'm not a child, Tim."

"No, but you're an amnesic busy-body who doesn't know how to listen to common sense. So just…stay here."

Jay looks like he wants to argue, but he doesn't, either by deciding it's not worth it, or because he simply can't come up with a good enough argument at the moment. Tim fights the urge to roll his eyes. Pocketing his cell phone, Tim makes his way around the beds towards the door. As he does, his eyes catch sight of a disturbingly familiar object on the dresser top.

"Jay?" he pauses, picking up the small tape. He glances at the camera, and sees that it's still recording. He turns and sees Jay watching him. Tim holds the tape up. "What's this?"

"A tape."

"Thank you, Sherlock. I mean – I only had one tape that I brought with me. Where'd you get a second one?"

"The first tape had run out this morning." There's a slight pause, and Tim notices that Jay looks slightly embarrassed. "I was hoping you'd have another in your backpack. So I dug around until I found one."

"But I don't have an extra tape in my backpack."

"Well, I found one in there. It was at the very bottom of the bag though, beneath all the food, charge chords, and papers. I almost didn't see it."

Tim frowns. When he had moved to Texas, he had destroyed every tape he had – whether they had recorded material on them or not. The only reason there had been a tape in Jay's camera was because he had simply forgotten to check inside it for one. He supposes that he must have just missed the tape at the bottom of his backpack. After all, he doesn't use the backpack very often, so it wasn't like he was going through it on a regular basis. Tim looks down at the tape in his hand, turning it over slowly.

"Tim?"

"Yeah, it's fine," Tim says, shaking himself. "Don't worry about it."

"Um, okay." Jay fiddles with the bottom of his shirt. "Hey, would you mind…if it's not a big deal…getting more of them?"

"More tapes?" Tim's heart sinks at that.

"Yeah. I mean, if it's okay."

"…yeah. Sure."

Jay's mouth curves into a small, grateful smile. "Thanks." He falls quiet, looking at the camera with a slightly disturbed expression. "It's strange. I'm not even exactly sure what I'm filming for. I just know that it's important to be doing so." He presses his lips together, and his brow creases as he pushes his mind to try and remember.

Tim doesn't say anything. Jay will find out everything he needs to know soon enough. Tim walks over to the door and pulls it open, glancing over his shoulder as he does so. Jay has already begun to watch "Introduction," his back turned to Tim. Pushing away the nervousness creeping on the edges of his thoughts, Tim steps outside into the hallway and lets the door slide shut behind him. He starts walking towards the hall leading to the parking lot when he realizes that he's still holding the tape Jay had already filled up with footage. He has a sudden urge to crush the thing. But instead he simply clenches it tightly in his fist and then slips it into his pants pocket. The uneasy feeling pooling in his gut is getting hard to ignore. He hopes he had made the right decision showing Jay the Marble Hornets channel.

/

Tim hurries to get the necessary shopping over with. Food, gallons of drinking water, and various toiletries all are easy enough to get. It's only when he passes the clothing section that he remembers that Jay needs clothes of his own. But he has no idea what size Jay wears – and even if he did, he'd feel too weird buying someone else's clothes. He'll just have to bring Jay back later.

Despite taking what he thought had been a rather long time at the store, he's dismayed to see that he still has hours before he can return to the hotel room. He does not want to get back before Jay is done watching all of the entries. It feels like it would be almost an invasion of privacy to watch them with Jay, which he knows is ridiculous since he's in them too. Tim just can't seem to pin down what his discomfort about the whole thing is stemming from. He wonders what Jay will think of the entries he never got to see. The ones that were after Entry 80. His insides twist slightly at the thought of that entry. He feels like it might be too cruel to make Jay watch that entry alone, but then again he doesn't think he'd want to be with Jay when Jay watches it. He feels like a coward.

So instead he finds other things to try and do while he waits. He's too far from Rosswood Park to go there now and do some actual searching, though he knows he and Jay will have to go back there soon. He takes his time walking around the town, smoking a cigarette as he peers through store windows and watches various passersby. After walking around for what he is sure must have been at least a few hours, he sees a sign pointing towards the town's public library. He has nothing better to do, so he decides to go and see if he can find anything on those buildings he had found Jay at, and that bell that had been there.

/

The library's computer system is about the worst Tim has ever seen in terms of organization. Because of this, it really slows down his process in finding books about the history of the local area surrounding Rosswood Park. The first few books he does find are mostly tourist-centered, with not much about history obscure enough to be helpful for Tim. He continues to search, and soon has a stack of several thick books and a few history magazines that might have information about the area surrounding Rosswood.

Hours pass, and still he's found nothing relating to either the "trial site" or the bell. He slams the last book shut, annoyance eating at him. His tired eyes lazily gaze at the book shelf across the desk he's sitting at, and he starts absentmindedly reading the titles: Famous Lawyers of the American South, Notable Cases in America in the 1800's, Criminal Justice in 19th Century Alabama –

Tim sits up straighter in his chair. He lunges across the desk, plucking the third book from the shelf. He begins flipping through it, looking for the section dedicated to the county Rosswood Park is located in. The section is fairly large, and nearly fifteen minutes pass before his search is finally rewarded.

It's a small story, taking up only half the page it's on. It begins by briefly describing the town that had been just outside Rosswood Park during the mid to late 19th century. It had been a small, tight-knit community, which is believed to be one of the reasons as to why the town went to such great lengths to punish their criminals. The book then explains the most severe of the punishments that the town would enact on the worst of their convicted. Tim can't believe what he reads: it is almost exactly what Alex had told Jay. The book even has a detailed sketch of what the historian believes the trial site had looked like before a strange fire had destroyed the place.

The two buildings had been simple structures even back in the 1800's, both only one-story tall. The larger one was used as a sort of courthouse, and the smaller a holding cell for criminals waiting for their trial. Apparently, the bell had been hung from a metal rod between the two wooden poles. Whenever a criminal was convicted, the bell would ring, which would signal that it was time for the "law-keepers," as they liked to call themselves, to take the prisoner and give him his punishment.

Well, now I'm slightly creeped out, but I don't see what this has to do with what happened to Jay and how he had ended up there. Tim rubs the heel of his hand against his tired eyes. If Jay's memory wasn't beaten to a pulp right now, asking him about the place might help clean up a detail or two. Tim glances at the clock on his phone. It's a little after 5pm. Jay should almost be done with the videos by now.

The tapes! Tim groans; he had forgotten to buy more. Slamming the books shut, Tim hurriedly gets up from the desk and makes his way towards the library's exit.

/

The store is busier than it had been in the morning, though that isn't surprising. Tim weaves his way between jabbering customers, quickly working his way to the back of the store, where the electronics are.

He finds the blank tapes easily – they have a twenty-pack, and Tim decides that would be good enough for right now. As he is walking back up the aisle, Tim notices the display of video cameras near the front of the electronics section. One of them – the one closest to Tim, actually – is very similar looking to Jay's camera. Tim approaches it and picks it up, turning it over to inspect it. It's the same brand and type, just an updated model. Tim's leg brushes against the display table, and he feels Jay's newest tape press into his skin. Reaching into his pocket, Tim pulls out the tape. He studies the tape for a moment, and then the camera.

He doesn't know why he does it. Despite his gut telling him it's a bad idea to encourage this whole recording thing, he can't help but slide the tape into the camera's slot. Maybe it's because he wants some feeling of nostalgia – from when it had been him and Jay, together, fighting this thing. Before Jay had been taken and…damaged. Back when they had an endless amount of tapes that Tim felt like he was constantly switching out of the camera and always replaying on the flip screen, studying the footage for anything useful.

Or, maybe he's just really bored.

But it's most likely because Tim wants a reason to delay himself from going back to the hotel room for a little longer – because he's not sure what state he'll find Jay in after Jay finishes watching the videos. Coward.

The flip screen is really nice quality, Tim notes. Much better than Jay's scratched up old one. The footage picks up at the end of the tape, which looks like it had ended at about 5:03 this morning. Tim rewinds it, not sure what he's looking for. The camera is angled towards the two hotel beds, though Jay's bed on the far side of the room is more centered in the screen. Past Jay's bed is the hotel's large window; the blinds are shut, but they had not been pulled completely across the window – Tim can see about four inches of the darkness outside at the end of the blinds.

As the footage rewinds, at first it's just of Jay sleeping on the bed, and Tim sitting beside him. But then the time hits 3:48am, and Tim is standing over a sobbing Jay. Then he's sitting on his own bed, heads in his hands. It's 2:21am now, and Jay is screaming. The soundless image unnerves Tim as he watches himself try to calm his panicking friend. That's when it happens.

It's so quick Tim almost didn't catch it. A small break in the footage, at the bottom of the screen. Tim feels his stomach drop. Another break, higher this time; then, a heavy ripple of distortion runs down the entire length of the screen. Tim's breathing is shallow and uneven as he stares at the screen. He searches the tiny screen for the source and – too easily, almost – finds it.

It is standing there, visible in the empty window space between the blinds and the window frame. The whiteness of its featureless face stands out vividly against the darkness behind it. It simply stands there, looking in through the window, watching them. It's not even trying to be discreet – it's as if it's making an effort to be sure it's seen.

Tim is frozen, terrified. It found them. It found them so easily, so quickly. He thought he had covered their tracks decently after getting Jay –

Jay. He had left Jay alone in the hotel room. Raw, naked terror grips Tim as he rips the tape out of the camera and runs through the store. He throws a crumpled wad of bills onto the end cashier lady's register as he runs past holding the box of new tapes, ignoring the surprised shouts that follow him out the door.

He wishes he had parked closer to the store. He's slipping in-between cars, moving as fast as he can. For a second he pulls out his phone to call Jay, but then he remembers that Jay doesn't have a cell phone, and he stupidly didn't even think of writing down the hotel room's number. He nearly slams into his car door in his hurry to get to it; throwing open the door and tossing the tapes onto the passenger seat, he jumps in. Then he's speeding out of the parking lot back to the hotel as fast as possible.

Please, please don't let anything happen. I swear, if anything happens…hold on, Jay.