Prologue

Richard Morgan was packing. He was going to leave the next day. He'd seen Anna's body, but no one had found Samara. And he didn't care. It was that girl who'd started all this. And then he saw it. A ring of light, shifting into a crescent, then into a semi circular shape. A hand reached out. It felt like his hand, but it wasn't. It was Samara's. She was alive. He walked out of the cabin. Through the trees, just in front of him, was the well. There was a hand coming through, slipping and barely hanging on. Richard wanted to leave her there, leave her to fall back into the well, but he didn't. He walked over to the well, grabbed the girls wrist and hauled her out. Immediately, he was bombarded with images. Once she was out of the well, he dropped her to the ground, shaking. God, those pictures! How was she doing it?

She was coughing and shivering, her teeth chattering. Her skin looked blue-ish.

"D-Daddy?" She asked. Richard started walking away. Towards the Inn.

The Innkeeper looked up as he walked inside.

"Can I help you?" He asked.

"We need an ambulance." Richard said. "It's my daughter, Samara. I think she's hypothermic."

"Samara? You found her?" The Innkeeper asked. Richard nodded gravely.

"Down the well." The Innkeeper reached for the nearest phone, and dialed 911. He was talking for quite some time, before he put it down again.

"They'll be here in half and hour. Until then you have to keep her as warm as you can."

Samara opened her eyes. She squinted from the bright light. I looked like Eola. But she knew it wasn't. It was somewhere she'd never been before.

"Samara? Are you awake?"

"Daddy? I'm cold." Samara said in response to her fathers question. He was sitting next to her. "Where am I? Why did she do that to me?"

"The hospital." Richard said.

"Where's Mommy?"

"She killed herself." Richard would say no more on the subject. There was a short knock on the door, and woman with short, sticking up brown hair appeared in the doorway.

"Mr. Morgan? Visiting hours are over. We request that you leave now." Richard stood up, and walked out of the room, slinging his coat, which had been on the chair, over his shoulder as he left.

"Are you alright Samara? Do you need anything?" Samara looked at the nurse as though she could burn a whole in her skull. If only looks could kill – no, it was better that they didn't. But she would anyway, Samara knew that. Her doctors at Eola had all met with mysterious deaths.

A few days later, Samara sat in the car on their way home. The scenery ran by outside the windows in quick flashes of green, but nothing was really holding Samara's attention. She was thinking about those three days she'd spent in the well. It had been the worst time of her life, but she had felt relief when she'd finally gotten out. After three days. Three days in that nightmare realm. It almost seemed like a good thing she was going back to the barn.