I felt vulnerable, but why? Where was the threat? The Lyceum was dead, or was it? For some reason, sweat began to pour down my forehead and cheeks. The pillow beneath my head was wet, not damp - wet! What was I afraid of now that I'd burned the Lyceum down?

I didn't know, but I began to look around the room with renewed interest. What was it that bothered me? The room felt empty, but not empty at the same time if that was possible. Something unseen was there. There was the monitoring equipment beside me. That was no threat. A small chair was alongside the bed. The washbasin and mirror were on the wall facing the foot of the bed. No threats were there either.

The door was open into the room so the doctor and the nurse could come in if I needed them. All I had to do was shout. They were just outside. I could see them through the glass wall. There was nothing wrong with that. So what was it?

As I returned my gaze back into the room, I noticed the number on the door. It was the number 6. Six! I was in Room 6 in the hospital. Something caused me to look at the mirror. It was frosted up. Then letters began to appear that chilled me to the bone. My heart began to hammer so hard I could feel it pounding in my chest shaking the bed from its violent beating. My throat tightened up, and I couldn't breathe or cry out. A monitoring alarm began to faintly ring far, far away, and the room slowly faded into darkness. Everything disappeared except for the word on the mirror, Lyceum.