The stairwell to the eighth floor, 12:03 AM.
Steps came and went as Emery trudged up to his room. His evening out proved unsuccessful. He wished for time alone, when in return, all he received were pointed glares and brisk shoulders slamming into his own as he made his way down the street. The air was cold and in the pit of his stomach, something was telling him that this evening was not the evening to go out.
With his collar turned up and his brother whispering, whispering, whispering at the back of his mind, he turned back. Are you afraid of the night, mein bruder? "No," he hissed at the turn of the stairwell. His fingers trembled against the banister. His shoulders twitched violently, but no longer due to the chill of the outside. The long coat that trailed his form no longer held its own in keeping him warm. Instead the coat was gone, replaced by a shirt that was not his own.
Running, running, always RUNNING.
"SHUT. UP!" he yelled, his arms tightening at his sides. Emery looked down at those very arms, now draped in the white of a shirt he had never before seen. "What- what is this? What have you done?" He asked no one but himself. He began to walk backwards then, his left foot catching the top step. Emery fell backwards, tumbling down until he landed on the front of his stomach at the nearest area of floor. His pocket watch smiled up at him from the stair above him. He reached forward, but hesitated as he caught his reflection in the silver of the watch. What he saw was grotesque, twisted. It was a glimpse of the monster he always knew lived within him.
He had to run. He had to hide. Hide. Hyde. That's who this was. No, it was Liam. Wasn't it? Of course it was. There was no one else.
Emery grabbed up the pocket watch and crawled up the steps. As he got back to his feet, he darted quickly towards his floor. Which was his again? The eighth.
A hollow "What have you done?" lingered behind him as he attempted to remember.