This is where everything goes fractal.

Sophie slept. Her ice-blonde hair covered her closed eyes in chunky shards. Less than a mile away, Wyatt was attempting an escape.

"That's my girl, Emma," he cooed to the girl, barely over 20, who was pulling a chair into the center of her hospital room's floor. "See the door?"

Emma was quite suggestible. She indeed could see a door in the drop ceiling.

She was too short to reach the ceiling even from the chair, much less pull herself up into it. "Rabbit?" Her voice was shaky, her eyes dilated, her hands bloody again. "Rabbit? I can't get the door open."

Wyatt wished there were a broom, or a ladder, or something useful in the sparse room. "Try the other chair. Lift it over your head and pull the door down with it." Emma got the second chair, climbed up again, and held it over her head with the legs in the air. Eventually she managed to knock the ceiling tile away, leaving a black hole in its place.

"No ladder," she muttered.

"Stack the chairs."

"I'll fall!"

But she managed. As the two of them climbed into the ceiling, the chairs fell over on the white tiles with a loud thud.

Sophie was shifting in her sleep.