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[b][code]Hospital[/code][/b]
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[youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B4RqeDxeDwc[/youtube]
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[i]Wake up.[/i] It was a voice he'd almost mistaken for someone else's, if only because of the snow, invoking memories from home life in Bellevue, remembered Christmas Holidays the old man had promised to spend with him but hadn't because he didn't have time to make it back and forth for work before the weather kicked in. Bundling clumps of broken up snow and hurling them at other peoples' doors and windows to avenge the snowballs tossed at his own home, or just for the hell of it - because what was so bad about it? He-..

Nate was getting off track with his waking thoughts. His mouth was dry, his throat cracked - he felt thirsty, but only for the feel of water in his mouth. Part of him woke in a cold sweat, no dehydration there. His vision, still bleary - not like when he could slip through things, but more like being underwater without any goggles - eventually found clarity. Blinking, he tugged his arm inwards and felt the IV running from a stand to his arm. Instinctively, he reached for his pocket to pull out his phone and get an idea of the time, when he realised he wasn't wearing his clothes anymore - he was in hospital garb, exposed in comparison. The frequent blips and chiming of electrical equipment around him left no other doubts where he was. 

Out and around him, however - his vision distorted. Colours briefly bleeding away, but without his mass shifting through the bed on which he laid. For a moment, silhouettes blinked in and out of existence, a dozen shades who had once dwelt here. How long had he been here? Opening his mouth to shout for someone, his voice rasped and he barely wheezed out a "Hello?!" A hydraulic press moved inwards on his temples in that moment, as if provoked by the use of speech, reminding him of the hell they had narrowly fled into... what? It didn't make sense. One moment, they were moving through the walls - Nate had spread himself out as far as he could, let the group slip through the world. Then... his focus had slipped. Some were left behind, others split off. Claire... she was [i]dead[/i] he realised. It wasn't a dream. She'd died, she'd been... his voice rasped a little more, wheezing in a panic. He felt out of breath, like he'd run marathon without getting into any shape. 

"Hello?" Nobody else answered. His stomach churned, the uncomfortable sensation of something wrenching at him pulling away. Nobody else seemed to be nearby, not that he could make any sense of, though the curtains surrounding his bed didn't help with that sense of isolation. What broke it in the end was a piercing scream from somewhere else, not so far off. The voice - the God-Kid - it had warned him that the thing that had killed Claire, that had chased after their group at the school - it was [i]coming[/i]. Wincing, he pried at the IV line feeding fluids into his body and disconnected it, stifling a pained noise and climbed down from the bed, finding his footing to be unsteady.

Once he had his bearings, he approaches the curtain - ready to slip back into the gap between the physical realm and whatever lay on the other side.