An officer stepped forward, imploring with Fenton with his eyes, seeking permission to cover Joe’s body back up as more and more people began crowding around the accident site. Fenton reluctantly agreed, letting his hand linger for a while on Joe’s smashed forehead before drawing his bloody hand away. Joe’s head lolled lifelessly to one side.

Fenton’s eyes went wide. Blood was flowing out from Joe’s ear but the blood was not the thing that had caught his attention.

"Stop!!" He commanded before the cop could close the body bag up. "Frank, come here!!!"

"Huh?" Frank was too consumed with grief and emotions to understand what his father wanted. "Wh-Wh-?"

Fenton pushed the officer out of the way and Frank’s eyes went wide when his father suddenly grabbed both sides of Joe’s head and turned it from side to side excitedly. For one split second, the crazy image of his father playing with Joe’s head like a ball flashed through his mind. Has his father gone crazy?

"Dad! Dad, what are you doing?!!!" Frank shouted frantically. Clumsily he scrambled to his feet and rushed to his father’s side. "Dad, stop it-"

"Frank, look at this!!" Fenton shouted eagerly, almost joyfully, his eyes wild and for one moment Frank thought his father was even smiling. Joe’s dead and he’s smiling?

"What?"

"This! Look at his ears!!!" At the commotion, all the other officers came closer, wanting to see what Fenton was showing. With a bloody finger, Fenton pointed to one of Joe’s ears, the only parts undamaged by the impact of the accident.

"See? Do you remember the inheritance of ear lobes in humans you studied in Biology class? Both your mother and I have attached ear lobes-" Fenton explained excitedly, gesturing wildly with his hands, unable to contain his immense relief. "But this body has free ear lobes, see? It’s not Joe!!!"

Studying ‘Joe’s earlobes closely, Frank’s heart soared hopefully. His father was telling the truth. Then his heart started pounding twice its normal speed all over again. Could it be true? Can Joe still be alive? Frantically Frank ran to the other body bag and with one smooth, fluid motion, he tugged the zipper open.

Frank stared down at the body lying in front of him for a few seconds, feeling his heart sink. It was Vanessa.

Swallowing hard, he reached out and touched her cold, dead face. Wait. Stiff and cold it may be, the skin felt tight, almost like rubber. Too much like rubber.

As if on a crazy impulse, Frank’s hand trailed downward, tracing the hollow of her cheek, down her chin and resting at the base of her neck. His fingers, though they had not healed completely could still feel the slight unevenness on the surface of the skin. Swallowing hard, he dug his fingers deeper into the skin, ignoring the protests of his healing muscles. Gritting his teeth in pain, Frank exerted more pressure and at last, his broken nails were able to penetrate through the skin. With one mighty pull, Frank ripped the extra layer of skin away.

A few seconds later, he finally realized that he was actually holding a mask.

Joe Hardy was in absolute agony. His head hurt like hell, and every muscle in his body burned, sending a fresh jolt of pain through his entire body every time he tried to move. There was also an intense pain in his abdomen, and he felt as if someone had grabbed a handful of his intestines and was wringing it like a towel. He couldn’t understand why he was hurting so much; everything seemed so fuzzy and he felt like dying.

"Oh God…" he moaned, writhing in sheer agony, the bare skin of his back burning hot against the sleek, satin sheet. There were cuts and wounds all over his upper body, some still freshly bleeding, but although he still had his pants on, he could feel the sticky, wet blood seeping through the fabric, soaking the bed under him. He himself didn’t know the extent of his injuries but he was in enough pain to know that he was not dreaming it all up. It was really happening.

Joe tugged hard to free himself but his feeble efforts were futile. The handcuffs wouldn’t give no matter how he tried. Tears rose in his eyes as he tugged again at the cuffs restraining him. He’d woken up in this dark, empty hotel room a few hours ago in the worst pain of his life, every breath he took stabbing his lungs like a thousand knives; his injuries were that serious. It had taken him quite some time to put the pieces together and now he had a fairly clear idea of what was about to happen to him. She’s got me.

Joe gasped as another stab of pain shot through his chest and stomach. He must have hurt something inside when the impact of the collision threw him forward, slamming him against the steering wheel. But the thought of suffering from internal injuries was not as scary of not knowing where Vanessa was. I don’t even know if she’s still alive, Joe thought as a stray tear escaped through the corner of his eye. Oh God please let her be alive. Please help us.

Joe gasped again when the door suddenly swung open in a wide arc, and instantly the room was bathed in light from the down the hall. Instantly he felt fear grip his heart like a vice. Oh God…

"You can kiss me on a Monday, a Monday, a Monday, it’s very, very good…" A soft voice started singing. Joe’s eyes went wide with terror as the dark shadow looming at the door got larger and larger.

"You can kiss me on a Tuesday, a Tuesday, a Tuesday, I really wish you would…" Joe closed his eyes, but his ears could still catch the sound of footsteps getting nearer and nearer, the voice getting louder and louder. Joe couldn’t help but whimper when he suddenly felt a hand rest on his forehead, cold and clammy against his burning skin. Why must this happen to me? Why? Oh please, I can’t go through this, please… He was in a lot of pain and he was alone with a madwoman.

"You can kiss me on a Wednesday, a Thursday, a Friday, a Saturday is best…" Joe held his breath painfully, gritting his teeth to keep from crying out in pain when he felt someone plop onto the bed next to him, jostling him hard. His eyes still closed, Joe stifled a scream when he felt the sudden heaviness of a body pressing against his, and he couldn’t help but gasp when he suddenly felt the hotness of someone’s breath against his neck.

She lifted her face and pressed her mouth against the side of Joe’s face, kissing away his tears, her tongue flicking out to lick the salty moisture off the concave hollow of his temple. Joe shivered in utter disgust but he had neither the strength nor the guts to push her away. It hurt too much.

"But never, never on a Sunday, a Sunday, a Sunday coz that’s…my day…of rest…" She whispered in his ear, pausing once a while to press butterfly kisses against his face. Her sharp elbow dug into the pit of his bare stomach and for one second, Joe was sure he was going to scream but he squeezed his eyes shut, holding his breath as he tried to ride out the pain the little pressure had caused.

No, he thought stubbornly. I won’t look at her. Let her do whatever she wants to me but I’ll never-

But apparently she made the decision for him. Joe’s eyes flew open when suddenly she pressed her lips against his, hard, seizing him up in a hungry and intense kiss. Joe started to struggle but she kept her vice-like grip on him and with their lips still locked, she scrambled up the bed and swung her leg over to Joe’s other side and Joe’s mind screamed in pain as she sat on his stomach heavily, forcing the breath out of him

Joe writhed in pain under her and tears streamed down the sides of his face as he kept on struggling to break free.

"Do you know what day it is, Joe?" She whispered breathlessly in his ear. "It’s Sunday. And you kissed me…"

‘You kissed me…" Then she began to laugh. A slow giggle at first. A few seconds later, the whole room was resonant the sound of her hysterical laughter.