<em>Dean Logan - 10:41pm - His home on East Broad Ave.</em><br/><br/>The light from the computer monitor illuminated his face in an eery blue glow, his glasses reflecting an impenetrable pale glare. He had been struggling to make ends meet, to pay all of his bills, but he'd be set now. For a while, at least. He stared at the account balance on his screen and sighed.<br/><br/>"Thanks, Dad" he said quietly.<br/><br/>It had been about three years since his old man had died, more than a decade since his mother passed. He was in this house alone, now, and alone more than ever in a shitty town like this. Dean couldn't stand these people. He couldn't take their fake smiles, those blatant lies they called greetings and small talk. New Harrisville Falls was a pimple upon the Earth, and the people within the oozing trail of puss.<br/><br/>Well, it was his birthday today, and according to his father's will, he could now have access to his inheritance. For such a poor man it was a surprising amount. Life insurance pays that much out, eh? Good thing it was a cheap funeral.<br/><br/>Dean stared at the screen, emotionless, stoic. He was twenty-one, and he just got a big helping of money. Shouldn't he celebrate? Shouldn't he have a drink? Go to a bar or something?<br/><br/>The sudden memory hit him. The smell of booze, the stuffy, claustrophobic atmosphere, the dim lights, the smell of sweat and even a few tears. That night he followed his Dad out to some hidden shack in the middle of a farm field. The night his old man hit him and, for the first time, made him afraid.<br/><br/>Dean stood up, slipped his denim coat over his shoulders, grabbed his wallet and keys and stepped out of his house. He didn't know why, but it just seemed too perfect. His birthday, Dad's inheritance...why not celebrate with a trip to...what was it called? The Fucking Something. He hopped on his bike and began pedaling down the road. The cool breeze in his face, the soft clicking of the bike chain, it was all too familiar. Like yesterday his memories returned, retracing his steps, almost seeing his father's tail lights ahead in the distance.<br/><br/><em>Dean Logan - 11:25pm - The Fucking Gulch</em><br/><br/>There it was. That familiar neon sign glowing in the blackness of the field. One of the letters was blinking now. It wasn't like that before.<br/><br/>Dean hopped off of his bike and looked around. This place was practically hidden in the field, with no signs or ads to point the way. If you were lucky you'd see the glow of the sign from the road, but even that was unlikely. Just what was this place? Was it part of Aderbrook? Nah, Aderbrook was still about ten miles out. The closest town was New Harrisville, but there's no way it was part of the township.<br/><br/>He shrugged, leading his bike to the decently sized shack. There was no place to chain his bike it seemed, but Dean didn't really see the need. Why steal a bike when there are plenty of cars around? Especially a slightly rusted old piece of crap.<br/><br/>Dean approached the front door. His heart was suddenly beating rather fast, thumping in his chest. Why was he so nervous? What was he expected? With palms slick with sweat, he reached out and grabbed hold of the door knob, stepping inside.<br/><br/>"Hello, nurse Ruby? I'm not feeling well, the Doc sent me to see you." He briefly saw the back of some older man, a bit on the soggy side, and a woman dressed in...was that a nurse uniform? Too late, the door shut behind them. He shook his head, closing the door behind him. Aside from that this place looked pretty empty. There were a couple more closed doors, not much in the way of noise though. For the time being at least. The stench of nicotine and alcohol in the air was familiar, but it seemed weaker. Or maybe he wasn't so sensitive to it as an adult?<br/><br/>He took a few tentative steps forward. Did he go downstairs? Last time he didn't have to, but maybe... He looked around the room for any sort of hint, an indication as to what he was supposed to do, and nearly jumped as his eyes finally fell on a rather large man in the corner. The tall black man eyed Dean with what looked to be suspicion.<br/><br/>"Um, hello," Dean stammered, feeling a bit silly for jumping. Was that racist? Did he do something stupid? Did this man think that Dean thought him a criminal? Harrisville Falls was so whitewashed, he wasn't even aware there were any minorities in the place. He shook his head. "Sorry, I'm just umm..."<br/><br/>There it was. Recognition. He<em>had actually seen</em>this man before. At the gas station. He applied for a job there some time last year. His eyes grew wide in realization.<br/><br/>"Hey, I know you!" He said, almost in excitement. "You're um...you're..." He waved his finger, trying to remember...