Several months later.

December 26th, 2025

"Kyle. Kyle. Hey, Kyle, wake up. Come on, it's almost 7:30." A 10-year old boy with blue eyes and long, wavy wheat brown hair that stops at his neck was urging Kyle.

The boy wore a blue robe, pajamas and house-shoes as he stood in the doorway of the creepy room, with the only light being a bulb hanging from the ceiling.

Kyle always hated being woken up before he was really ready to get out of bed.

But he finally opened his eyes, sat up in his bed, and looked at the wheat brown-haired boy known as Dean Fen standing in the doorway (with way too much excitement on his face for this early in the morning.)

"I'll meet ya down there.. gimme five minutes."

Months had passed since his road trip.

And there were still so many unanswered questions.

Who was the man who was following him? Who killed his brother, and why?

He could still remember the sounds of the engines. Those damned vehicles had sped off and before Kyle knew it, his brother's house had exploded. And his brother had died.

It was as if the road trip was merely the universe's cruel way of guiding him to be a spectator of his brother's demise.

He had succumbed to less serious injuries, and his mother had of course been furious that Kyle lied about his intentions about the road trip. But even more so, distraught over her son's fate.

Kyle had a hard time processing it. He spoke to no one, staying locked in his room until his mother insisted he needed help.

Therapy led nowhere, and his mental health was only worsening.

Eventually, he turned to drugs. Pills to numb the pain. Three times a day, as if they were his daily meals.

One night, he mixed them with some beer and overdosed. Charlotte found him and took him to the hospital. A presumed suicide attempt. And here he was.

A "correctional facility." Or "the looney bin", as he liked to call it.

He had spent months in the facility. The only thing that made him wish he were back in the standard, traditional therapy sessions his mother had first put him in.

At least it wasn't totally lonely there. He and this "Dean" kid had ended up being friendly. And that's where Kyle would actually get to find some excitement in the god-forsaken place. The rush of getting caught when they snuck around the place after hours was nice.

And that wasn't to say it was all bad. He was starting to feel normal again. He could think about things other than his brother. He could speak to people. It still hurt like hell, especially with so many unanswered questions.

It left a gaping hole in his heart, looking for that closure only to end with ten times the mourning. But at least he felt a little sane now.

He just wished he could go back to normal life. He didn't believe there was much more they could do. How could one ever fully recover from the death of their brother? At least he was functional now. What else did he need?

Kyle realized he had been musing for too long. That Dean was waiting on him. He put on his pj's and violet red robe.

Soon enough, he was sneaking around the eerie doorway and opening up the door. He made sure he kept the handle turned as he shut it after slipping through. The male tip-toed down the stairs and walked through the other door quickly as the first. At the end of the hall, he saw Dean waiting for him. He noticed Kyle and started waving at him to hurry up, with a huge smile on his face... like always.

Dean was always in such a great mood. Kyle wondered how Dean could remain in high spirits. Kyle was aching for adventure. Especially after so much mourning.

Kyle grabbed a white card off of the desk at the end of the room, placing it over the strike-plate so it wouldn't latch.

The building was huge, and Kyle noticed it more and more every time he snuck out. It almost resembled a castle.

Kyle and Dean snuck around the now dimly lit cafeteria. They grabbed a metal plate and helped themselves to the ice cream they had taken.

Dean had been the only person Kyle connected with all his group therapy sessions in the asylum, but he had never taken the time to learn his whole story.

"Ya know, you never told me what your deal is." Kyle mumbled as he gulped down his ice cream. "You know mine. I don't know yours."

"Hm?" Dean muttered as they feasted.

"Like, why you're here." Kyle clarified.

Dean paused and shrugged. "Well.." His voice was slightly muffled from feasting on the ice cream. "..bounced around from institution to institution for all my childhood. Anger issues n' stuff."

"I can't imagine wasting my childhood on exploring different asylums." Kyle muttered bluntly. "How do you stay so positive?" He asked more clearly.

"The right meds and doctors bein' nice enough, I guess." Dean shrugged, clearly more interested in his ice cream. "I didn't stay long at most the other places.." He paused from his ice cream, giving a look of reflection. "I guess they didn't know what to do with me. But the docs here have really started to figure me out. And you help keep me sane." The boy smiled.

Kyle smiled at that, and they had soon finished their treats. Kyle hoped people wouldn't catch on to the pattern. Twice a day, 7:30 a.m, and 7:30 p.m, the pair would sneak out to steal a few scoops of ice cream.

Kyle waved to the boy, going back to his bed where he felt lost in his own thoughts. Left to wonder how his mother and his friends were doing.

….

The next day, Kyle was in a room strapped to a chair in a straight jacket, with a female therapist. He was in the middle of one of his sessions. Something that all patients there did everyday. His days consisted of group counseling, individual counseling, art hour, board-game hour, TV-time, ice-cream meals, and more.

Kyle spoke about his home-life as a kid, growing up with a Dad who favored him, as well as growing up with a bully brother, who was abused by his Dad, his Dad, leaving in 2017 when he was 9, his Mom getting a boyfriend who hated Kyle, and his brother leaving the year after to attend college in Oregon and never coming back.

He spoke about his mother coming to see him once a week, which was much as she was allowed. He spoke of his resentment of his father. How, despite so much praise about how Kyle was the favorite child, he never bothered to visit his son.

Kyle's mother though, she was everything to him. He made that clear. She had stood by his side in every possible way. Not only through the entire current mess...but his entire life. He fawned over her, how she was the most amazing, loving woman in the world. It broke Kyle's heart knowing that she was all alone. Her first son died and his body was never recovered. And her second son had been institutionalized for several months now. Kyle tried not to think about all that though.

A routine is what kept him sane. He kept himself busy, and in addition to the daily activities the staff has scheduled for them each day, he has his own schedule written in here as well. That left his free time quite limited. If he wasn't in a class or counseling session, he was either exercising, writing, talking to Dean, or having ice-cream with Dean. He still had no clue how most of the people could just sit around watching TV in the evening without a care in the world. That was not enough to occupy Kyle's attention.

The therapist listened to Kyle speak about his troubles, slowly nodding.

"Well, you're doing a great job at expressing your emotions. And you are showing a lot of improvement. Keeping busy is a much healthier coping mechanism than turning to drugs." She smiled warmly at him.

"Oh, well.. good." Kyle smiled. Maybe this was it. The segway into what he wanted. Getting out.

"There's something that concerns me, though." She stated.

Kyle perked up the best he could with his restraints. "..Uh. Oh?" He wondered if this could be about sneaking around with Dean.

She nodded slowly. "I understand that.. every afternoon, you spend two hours at the TV. The only amount of time you ever spend at it. And you always watch the same thing. Return to Oz. And you.. stay glued. Your peers ask you to turn it off because they have to see it every day. But you ignore them. And you're unresponsive to the staff. I and many others have taken a notice. Your stare at the television is almost vacant. It is akin to.. some sort of daily ritual."

Kyle shifted uncomfortably. "Gee, I mean.. I don't watch it that much. I don't think. Not every day."

"I'm afraid I've tallied it. You've watched it 38 times since you've been here, and that's only since I started counting. What is it about this particular film that interests you?" She asked, leaning forward a bit.

He gulped. "Um.."

Kyle wasn't sure how to respond. He had seen a few Wizard of Oz centered things as a kid, but never thought much of it since. It had been one of the movies they had in their selection, and he found himself connecting with the darkness of it. But especially the escapism. A lost person fleeing to a magical land after they've been in a strange institution. It brought on nice fantasies. And it seemed the staff had taken notice. But did he really watch it that much? And was he so hypnotized he ignored what everyone said as he watched it?

Suddenly, the therapist's phone dinged. "Oh, dear. I'm going to be late for my next session. Keep this in mind for next time, will you? This is very important to discuss, I believe." She said as she slowly stood up and helped Kyle out of his restraints.

Kyle sighed. Maybe he really was a bit crazy.