January 11, 2016
A few days later...

Nighttime has dawned over Southern California. One by one, the lights of the sleepy Del Mar neighbourhood flick off. This also includes the lights of the Monarossabergie House.

Deep in the house, up above a room, Brandon Montour is snuggling himself against his mattress with his blanket up to his chin. He reaches his hand over to the light switch that is right behind him and fingers it, turning the light in his tiny room off. He settles back against his mattress and closes his eyes.

"Good night, Joey," he hears Nick Ritchie's sleepy voice echo from below.

"Yeah," Joseph Cramarossa's voice is heard replying apathetically. His footsteps fade off with a door being slammed closed, notifying the two that he is out for the day.

"Good night, Monty," Brandon hears Nick say to him in the same tone.

Brandon opens his eyes slowly, then peers down through the railings of the opening that he is facing, catching sight of the whole bedroom from a bird's eye view. There is Nick laying on his bed down below on floor level contently, look out on him.

"Good night, Nicky," he calls down to him. He then flips away from the window, laying on his back.

Brandon's eyes wander upward, locking on what is dangling above him from the ceiling: his authentic Native American dreamcatcher.

A smile spreads on his face. "Sweet dreams...," he mumbles. Then his eyes flutter close and he drifts off into a deep, deep sleep.