(A long overdue continuation. Thanks for all the reviews and reading. I hope you enjoy this story coming to a soon close).

Jane's head bolted up, a reflex, as if she'd fallen asleep in the car or in class. All around her, everything seemed to be warped and morphed in a hallucinatory drug-induced trance state. At first, she was afraid a minor step would cause her to fall into nothingness, but found relief seeing that the wavering lines of the room were only more of an irritation to the eyes and didn't serve to exemplify the actual instability it fooled one to think. Walking out from the room, she was greeted with screams of despair and torment from down a long, seemingly infinite corridor.

"Oh ...God..." she muttered.

Immediately, her heartbeat performed an eerie soundtrack, filling in for the absent 'room tone'. Taking a deep breath, she began her march down the corridor. At the end, she saw a man, rendered to his spot in a catatonic schizophrenic state. It was as if he were mimicking the stark white bulky support poles of the room. The previously heard wails had fizzled out into an exchange of frightened and angered gibberish between two rooms positioned opposite of each other, as if the patients were having a deep conversation, held in a non-existent, unnecessary language.

A humming, like a hornet, buzzed from another room, along with hissing and stammering of "J-J-Jesus... ah... Our loving messiah... have mercy... omla setro beshz sko aour ray". He spoke in tongues, writhing in his bed which he was strapped to. Shivers tapped through the terrified teen and she walked on, blatantly, forcefully, ignoring a man with severe stitches about his temples, emphasizing the prefrontal cortex. He delivered what appeared to be an hostile stare, only the expression was hollow. Like a zombie, her stared on... and on... and on... at nothing.

Coming to the end was a fellow who appeared, at least in comparison to some of the others, as relatively normal. He took his meds with a shrug and toothy grin. A scratchy beard detailed his face messily. Chuckling. He laughed, having had enough of the nurses and made his way back to the room. Anticipating collision, as he was walking in the artist's direction, Jane's frame dissipated, like a cloud, and unified again, as the guy walked through her. Staring out the window, partly opened to invite air, her spat out the pill he'd hid under his tongue and looked out on the staff, guiding the less cooperative and catatonic folk around in wheelchairs. The day, or what could be made of natural daylight, faded, and the gentleman withdrew from under his mattress some paper.


The gentleman was the patient they'd been reading from. Her attention fully gathered, she walked in to accompany him. He splayed his words and drawings on the floor, humming lowly to himself. He brought out the sigil. The symbol. A shard of stone. He struck it out across his inner thigh, somewhere discreet. The raven haired gal bit her lip, watching the trembling man draw blood and illustrate with it, like ink, onto the symbol directly.

There, he folded his legs and allowed his eyes to roll back in their sockets. Hissing, words withdrew from his lips like a vibration, one word after the other, drawing them out as long and as painfully as possible. He was trying to meditate and this was his mantra.


Jane sat with him, watching his movements, hearing his sounds. The crazed fellow let his eyelids fall, as he succumbed to his transcendental meditative state.

As of now, nothing. Jane waited for the demon to 'appear', but there was nothing there to be seen to be believed. Sighing, she thought the only way to see was not to expect for things to happen, but to make things happen for you.

"When in Rome..." she mumbled dully, with an ounce of intrigue.

Crossing her legs, she copied the man next to her, nonethewiser to her presence and first practiced on her breathing. She'd done this before, but god forbid she'd confess to Daria she had done any of this bullshit. Letting the silence and wavering guide her, she began to fall into the state as she murmured.


Still nothing, until she indicated some form of motion. A draft.

"Oh my love..." whispered the man, shakily. "Hast father showed to you my workings? Does he know?"

She opened her eyes... and Vescatur was sure as fucking hell seen to be believed. Jane feared to move, as she watched the insane fool praise her.

"I'm sure I will influence them soon. You see... they don't know. Those doctors think they know what they're doing. They think they have us all figured out. Well, it's lies. You see, I've told another about you. I... I'm sorry to go against your word... but you see, he believes. He truly believes and he wants you to appear before him, to be shown unto the true side, the word and guidance of the unholy spirit. Would you do it?"

He had told someone about it?

Uh-oh. Had this thing spread out more so than Jane had anticipated? Was there a full blown organized cult to be unearthed from all of this? Of course they'd come across the works of some devil worshipers in the hospital, but ... had someone else, on the outside, known of this? Were the satanists just the tip of the iceberg? Who else knew? WAS THAT WHY THE HOSPITAL WAS STILL STANDING? Was it an unholy ground or temple?

The entity levitated with ease, caressing the skulls upon her shoulders like cats. The jaws chattered playfully and the demon stared on lazily at the man, who was bowing before her. Although the man may have been deluded, downright insane, he may have had a dangerous influence on the outside world during the time of his captivity. Was there something to find out, to investigate? Did this damn guy have a name?

As if Jane wasn't scared out of her wits already, the beast finally opened it's mouth and a demonic drone filled the room, accompanied by the light and innocent notes of a girl singing. The man wept with relief, as if the creatures growls were songs from compassionate and loving angels. A crack. The demon twisted it's neck slowly and it faced the artist, whose jaw dropped in awe. In fright. She was paralyzed and she could feel the gaze eating her alive. Her spine drew her down forcefully to the ground and as the creature found the floor, it reached out it's otherwise limp and abandoned limbs, and drew the girl into it's embrace to devour her in the hell flame cradled in it's open belly.

"Rrrgh" grunted the artist, shaking her mind out of her freaky experience.

Her eyes widened, feeling a pair of familiar warm hands caress her, like in a hug, but there was this new electricity that tingled them both, head to toe. They were bold, adventurous and traveled to sensitive regions that made her withhold the urge to moan out into the empty darkness. The motion of rocking came to a still, as stuttered breath found her bare and naked chest. An unusual buzz, like relief, throbbed between their legs. Jane nuzzled Daria's head, appreciating it's softness and the sound of Daria's voice... her voice. It was unlike her usual self. It was outside the usual monotone restrains and was pleasing, erotic to the ear. Sweat wept from their skin, as they continued to caress each other. The bookworm's lips pressed to her neck, which would have stimulated and aroused the artist, only she found her body was already tired from an experience she should have been there to witness and treasure.

The two cuddled to each other, body's entwining beneath the sheets, as the pleasured brunette went off into slumber. Running her fingers through the girl's hair, Jane angrily stared into the blackness. Vescatur took her first time with Daria away from her.

Daria batted her eyes open in the dark and found that the raven-haired teen had left her alone. Instantly, the nerd bolted out of bed and looked out the window, to see Jane running down the sidewalk. The girl was a step away from yelling with frustration. She knew where she was going and had to stop her. Getting her clothes on, still feeling the fading glow from their previous love-making, Daria dashed out to follow her. Not being as athletic as her girlfriend, the brunette slowed and came to a pause, panting, watching her lover disappear out of sight.

"Dammit" she bit, looking down at the ground. "Just... dammit!" she growled, breaking her characterized monotone twice that night.

"D-Daria!" called a pained voice.

She turned to see Trent, limping out from the Lane residence, holding the amulet up in plain view. His blood spat on the concrete and he glared on with clenched teeth "G-G-Get in the car... let's get this unholy freak out of our lives for good!"

End of Part Twelve