Deacon is a brute of the highest order, who probably got his training in Juan's school of charm for asshats, and half drags me, half lets me walk on my own feeble legs down the corridor to an elevator. Only stopping to bark orders at another guard sat at a desk nearby, before shoving me inside and taking me down to a level that has an air of aircraft hangar. The doors slide open to reveal a large, empty garage like space, in semi darkness, with concrete floors, and strip lighting on the ceiling, which stands a good twenty feet above us. The space is huge and there are three trucks parked at the far end on what looks like a platform, which I'm assuming raises up. It's dull, definitely many degrees colder, and seems like a part no one frequents all too often.

As we walk the lights begin to flick on automatically over our heads, and I note at the semi middle of the wall on the left a low glow is already illuminating from what seems to be an open alcove. From this angle I don't really see what it is until we walk level with it and turn right, my head snapping to turn back, even while being dragged along away from it, so we head in its exact opposite direction where I catch glimpse of what it actually is.

A room behind a full glass wall stretching its width for ample viewing, that looks like at one point it's been a sectioned area for parking and was repurposed. There are tire grids running up to the window, but the inside room it has concrete smooth floors as though they were resurfaced. It houses a bed right in the center, surrounded by machines, and carts, and equipment, all making flashes, and low beeps, and hums, keeping the solitary figure within the bed silent.

A motionless brunette woman, hard from this angle to tell if it's Sierra, is laid out like sleeping beauty, amid wires and tubes, under a single dull spotlight hanging directly over the bed. It's almost like an art piece of a priceless mummy in a museum, she's so still, pale, and lifeless, and it tightens my stomach in knots, choking me with emotion.

She's on full view to this entire area in her glass box, yet completely unmanned and without any kind of caregiver keeping an eye on her, which speaks volumes. I guess all the monitors and machines are doing the job of people, and it breaks my heart to see her so alone, even if she isn't aware of it. Colton would die if he saw the way she's being kept, with no human contact, no care or interaction… just machines, and isolation, in a god damn basement. My heart aches for her, for him, and I'm glad he doesn't know this is what Juan has done to his mom.

Deacon gets annoyed with my straining backwards to stare and jerks my arm cruelly, snapping my face back around and I give him a hateful scowl, scared of him less and less the more I'm in his company. He's a typical Santo bully and not unlike a lot of the pack were my whole life. Pushing people like me around, in a bid to exert his dominance in the hierarchy. He would last ten seconds out there if he made me mad enough to throw air at him, as stupid as that may sound. He's a dumb jock type, with a bad attitude, and the need of a dart gun to take down a running femme…. Loser.