An eternity seemed to have passed when Charles got out of the truck at last. He could still feel the pressure of the officer's steely glare, which was fixated in his direction all the way to the inside of the asylum. "Hollow Trunk's Local Asylum" were the words written on the sign that was swinging loosely above the gate, which threatened to crush his skull and spare him the dread of anticipating whatever could be found in there, him noting that the name of the building was the most uncreative name he'd ever come across as to relieve himself of his tension even for a moment.

He was led by the officer up until he'd reached his cell, which meant that his tour of the place lasted for quite some time. Not a sound could be heard in the courtyard, whose soil was covered with dead grass, from which grew trees that were somehow even deader, their withered black branches bending from the pressure of the winds of cold like an old woman in rags would, their souls melancholy from the absence of their golden leaves, which they knew would come back the following year, but which they couldn't help but grieve. At least the ceaseless fog and rain halted haunting the town for a day, he thought.

Within the building itself, only slightly more noise could be heard - the fast and firm footsteps of the officers and the slow and timid ones of those inside the cells echoing throughout the whole place, quite normal in volume, but still deafening to Charles's ears due to the lack of any other sound in existence. The walls were a sterile, perfect white, pure from even a single trace of disorder. The floors were the same way, only with ceramic tiles instead of paint. 

The halls were illuminated with lightbulbs that engulfed the space with light that was a cold shade of bright blue. The patients all looked in his direction numbly, seeming to have given up on hope. This all brought a chill to his spine, so he was immensely glad to be able to console himself in solitude when finally thrown into his cell.

At least he thought it would be solitude. Not caring to look around him, he knelt right before the numerous metal bars that kept him in there, burying his face in his hands while releasing hideous sobs, remaining in that position for an unknown amount of time. He probably would've continued doing so for hours if a woman whose touch he knew well hadn't patted him on the shoulder.

He turned around to face her, completely startled. He knew that he couldn't have been mistaken, for Edna had patted him on the shoulder many times right before saying some motivational speech that somehow always brought happiness and confidence back into his heart. He smiled through the tears that had begun to suffocate him, believing that she'd do it again this time, even in the most horrible place they'd ever known. However, when he looked carefully in her direction, he was in for a surprise.

She stood still as a rock statue, beginning to shake with her entire body a little while after he gave her a look. Her jaw dropping at the sight of him, she released a few silent tears that he was only able to notice due to paying extreme attention, not wanting to cry more so that he wouldn't feel even worse. He smiled widely, his heart warm with an appreciation for her constant attempts to cheer him up. 

At seeing him smile, she couldn't handle the sea of emotions overwhelming her soul any longer, bursting into uncontrollable tears. He gently embraced her, ready for his turn to be the bringer of happiness. He couldn't see it, but she smiled like an angel while resting her head on his shoulder.

After what seemed to be five minutes, they separated their bodies and sat on the cold, hard floor, staring at each other with no emotion in either of their eyes. They weren't sure when it came to which one of them should start the conversation, but Charles decided to do it this time because he had many questions to ask. Letting out a deep sigh, he began with the following:

"Have you noticed that there's a rather strange aura around everything as of late? I mean, I came back from London this morning, and all of a sudden, no one remembers you! I thought I'd be able to find an answer, but I'm merely finding more and more questions to ask! I don't know what to do... I wish I'd seen you anywhere but here. And why are you even here? Isn't everything alright with you? What is going on?!"

Edna bit her tongue so that she wouldn't start crying again. "Yes, Charles, I've noticed the strange aura as well. In fact, I've been sent here before you. Five days before you returned, the same thing happened to me. It's obvious that you wouldn't have been there back then either way, but every person in town not having a single memory of who you are, even your own parents, is quite haunting to think about. 

And now I - we - will stay here forever! Them putting us in the very same cell five days after they said they don't remember you, and also them remembering me all of a sudden means that something's not right. There must be - who would believe it - some foul magic at play, but that still doesn't absolve them of their guilt. If they remember both of us, it means that they should let us go, for if both of us exist, neither of us is insane for remembering the other. However, speaking of remembering, I've just remembered something as well. There could be another reason as to why we're here..."

As Edna stared blankly into the distance, Charles gave her a terrified look. "I don't understand it! I don't understand anything!"

"It's okay, Charles," she said, wrapping her hands tightly around his neck. "I don't understand anything either, and now that we're alone during our first night together in the asylum, it means that we can both cry by each other's side as much as we want to. It isn't time to think of the solution to this problem yet."

"As I was saying," she interrupted herself with a sudden jerk of her body, "I think that they created a fake reason for us to be here to cover up the real, much more sinister one. I painted a painting based on a nightmare I had last year - remember that one? - and the nightmares, and thus, the paintings, never stopped coming. You asked me what caused the dark, eldritch beings and their creations that I depicted to appear in my dreams, but I didn't want to tell you all about my nightmares. 

They'd be exactly like all other nightmares if they didn't seem so real, and no, it's not lucid dreaming. I checked the Internet for answers, and it's far from that. In fact, the Internet has no clue what to tell me about any aspect of my dreams. They are almost exactly like our reality, if it were, well... Mysterious, and... Eldritch, yes, as I said before. Do you have any idea what I'm talking about?"

He shook his head aggressively. "No, I don't know any other person who could be experiencing this phenomenon. Also, what are you suggesting with this? Why am I even here if I'm not having these dreams?"

She let out a deep sigh. "Charles, I'm suggesting that my dreams, the local memory losses and the asylum workers are all connected in some way, don't you see? My dreams are obviously this realistic in a place that's filled with many other recent strange occurrences because some unseen and unknowable force wants to ruin our peace, and the people who run the asylum don't want to let anyone know that, so they label us as insane when we're not. Do you see it now?!"

He trembled. "Yes, I see it now... By the way, the painting of a sunset you painted for us two years ago... It's missing, and I don't know if you know where it is."

Staring at him with a grave facial expression, she pointed to the upper left corner of the cell because they were sitting in the downer right one. The painting of the sunset was right there, completely untainted. The sky was coloured with uneven shades of lilac and peony and hyacinth that fought for dominance right beside the sun, but despite that, they were still tranquil. 

They merged into a vivid representation of happiness, even as the sun clearly faded below the deep sea, offering nothing but appreciation for the current moment, a moment that would remain perfectly immortalised on canvas. He'd always thought it was beautiful, but not all that profound. Only now was he able to see how much it actually meant.

"They brought the painting as well!" he said breathlessly. "What is up with them?!"

Silence was the answer.

After a few minutes of suffocating silence, Edna let out yet another deep sigh. "We must go to sleep now. If we are lucky, Florence Haze will not think to visit us tonight. She likely won't, given how overwhelmed with work she always seems to be, but we must be careful if that's not the case. Fortunately, she'll wake us up immediately if that happens, so we can go to sleep now, and tomorrow we can do everything we need to do in our free time in peace."

"Who's Florence Haze?" Charles asked, raising an eyebrow, but before Edna could answer, she was cut off by a bat of footsteps. They were both on edge, not knowing whether it was or wasn't Florence, but still knowing that it likely wasn't a good sign. The tension that boiled in their veins was relieved when it turned out to be just some random officer with a neutral facial expression, who said the news in an equally neutral voice:

"Good evening, Miss Mackie and Mister Abbott. Miss, you may not yet have grown accustomed to our routine, so you might be at least a little surprised as to what I could be doing here right now, and Mister, welcome to Hollow Trunk's Local Asylum. I hope your experience here, however much you may not like it, will turn out to have been for the best all along. So, I'll try to be brief.

I've only come here to say that Madam Haze won't be visiting you tonight if you were wondering about that. She's a busy woman, after all. Instead, she'll wake you up at five in the morning so you can start your day by acquainting yourselves with the other visitors, after which the day will continue as normal, which Mister Abbott will be introduced to step by step. Oh, look, it's ten in the evening now. Go to sleep immediately because Florence would like it the best that way. Good night, and best of luck when it comes to your staying here."

Before they could say anything, the officer marched away from them, presumably so that he could go to sleep as well. Closing their eyes, they slowly laid their backs on the floor, their bodies too exhausted for them to even think of occupying the beds left and right to the barred window inside their cramped cell. In a few minutes' time, they were already in a state of deep sleep, smiling serenely as if they'd lost all memory of their recent experiences, the bright white moonlight shining over them even when the artificial blue lights didn't.