A few more months pass, everything running smoothly. Your boss' passing is easily fixed, a newer, much nicer woman replacing him and actually giving you a promotion and a raise. You'd gotten closer to everyone in your home, starting a garden that Brahms and Jason helped you with, watching movies every friday night with Danny, Norman, Freddy and Michael, Lecter teaching you the basics when it came to patching up wounds, and Thomas and Bubba would go on walks with you almost daily, helping you cook and clean as well. You were a lot more well known when it came to your reports and articles, respected by a lot of the other reporters you worked with. Danny, who had come out of his shell a little more in public, was even your official assistant, making the same amount of money as you and making it easier to afford housing 10 people. You'd set up more beds in the basement so Hannibal, Thomas and Bubba didn't have to sleep on couches.Your life was shaping up to be perfect, and as always, Bubba woke the house with breakfast ready, Brahms having made a simple bacon and eggs, your taught recipe. You heard Danny rocketing downstairs before you were even out of bed, hearing his excited whooping at the smell of his beloved bacon.

The sun filtering through your window is bright, gorgeous, the chattering of birds, soothing as always. You step out into the hallway, smiling at Jason as he does the same.

"Good morning, Jason." you say through a yawn,

'Good morning', he signs back. The two of you had been taking ASL lessons with Michael (when the Shape felt like it, he was very moody and lazy sometimes), and it had been going well. You could carry a light conversation at this point. 'Sleep well?', Jason asks, tilting his head. You nod, and with choppy movements, you sign back,

'Yes, you?'. Jason nods in response and begins to lead the way to the stairs. The kitchen is filled with motion, Danny struggling to sneak a piece of bacon, Brahms slapping his hand away from the pan every few seconds, Bubba grabbing plates and cups and forks and knives from the cupboards and drawers, and now you and Jason, pushing your way through towards the dining room. Freddy, Hannibal, Norman and Thomas were already sitting, Michael entering the room just behind you- you hadn't heard him following behind you on the way downstairs.

"Good morning." he says in his gruff voice, taking a seat at the table across from you.

"Good morning, (Y/N), Mr. Voorhes, Mr. Myers." Hannibal nods to each of you, Norman waving timidly as always.

"Where's the damn food, wall man?" Freddy shouted, making you chuckle at his name for Brahms; you'd heard him say 'mouse dude' and 'closet creeper' but never 'wall man'.

"Be patient!" Brahms tuts, carrying in two plates of food at a time. The table is oddly silent, save for Danny's excited sounds as he waited for his dish, but once all the plates were down it erupted into a mish-mash of clinking silverware and the slicing of knives.

"This is amazing Brahms!" Danny fawns, cramming bacon in his mouth. "Maybe even better than when (Y/N) makes it!"

"Not possible!" Brahms says quickly in an attempt to spare your potentially hurt feelings, but you just smile and nod.

"It's really good, Brahms, thank you for-" you're interrupted by a sharp knocking on your door, making you startle. "I-I'll go get it, just stay quiet for a second please and thanks." you say, standing from your seat. Just before you step into the kitchen, the people at the door knock again, and you freeze, terrified of their words,

"Police, open up!" you glance over your shoulder at the killers, furrowing your brow and weathering your lip. "Open up!" the officers repeat, and you hurry forwards and to the door. Your hand is trembling slightly as you grab and twist the door handle, flashing a nervous smile.

"Hey, uh, what can I do for-"

"Ms. (L/N)?" one officer asks, cutting you off and making you frown for a moment at his interruption.

"Y-Yes, that's me, what-"

"You're under arrest for sheltering a fugitive and potential aid in voluntary manslaughter." the man's voice is flat, his face contorted into a disgusted frown as he presses into your home, shoving you backwards and up against the wall.

"Woah, what?!" you exclaim as he flips you around, slamming you against the wall once more, this time face-first so he could wrestle your wrists behind your back.

"Evidence on a crime scene shows a photograph of you and Jed Olsen, the face linked with the Ghost Face.

"Woah, no way-"

"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can be used against you in the court of law..." the man's loud, booming voice continues with the Miranda warning, completely ignoring your pleas and confusion as handcuffs are wrapped tightly around your wrists. You hear the scraping of the chair from the kitchen, the officers not hearing it, your heart rising into your throat. No! You crane your neck to watch as Danny steps out from the kitchen and into the hallway, the officers both going silent as their eyes land on him.

"That's Jed, that's the Ghost Face!" the other officer, the one not cuffing you, cries out, booking it into a sprint. Danny, rooted to the spot, dives for a knife on the kitchen counter and turns back to defend himself.

"Da- Jed, no!!" you scream out as he swings the blade up, slicing at the officer attacking him. You're thrown to the floor as the officer cuffing you pulls out his gun, pointing it at Danny as his attacker, much stronger and built a lot sturdier, catches his knife-wielding wrist and snaps it downwards against his knee. Danny lets out a cry as the blade clatters to the floor, immediately overpowered and shoved to the ground. What do you do?! "Fuck, guys " you scream, shredding your vocal chords.

"This is officer Mirez, requesting backup at that Ghost Face house, there may be armed suspects inside trying to flee!" the officer on top of Danny shouts into a walkie-talkie, wrestling to cuff Danny.

"Sweetheart, I'm so sorry!" Danny shouts over the commotion from the kitchen, the sound of shattering glass, and one last,

"We'll save you, (Y/N)!!" The officer nearer you takes a few steps towards the kitchen, but officer Mirez holds out a hand and shakes his head.

"Camrode, we have Jed fucking Olsen, that fucking kid can run for all I care!" Officer Mirez shouts, getting a nod from his partner, who returns to you. They thought Brahms had been a child.

"I didn't kill anyone!" you shout, learning a sharp kick from officer Camrode.

"Don't kick her!" Danny hisses, and you can see a rage in his eyes, a bubbling insanity he can't act on due to the cuffs on his wrists and the knee in his shoulder blades.

"You're housing a fugitive, a serial killer!" Officer Camrode spits, reaching down to grab the back of your shirt and rip you to your feet. Officer Mirez does the same with Danny, who struggles and tries to rip free. Danny lurches around, snapping his teeth at Officer Mirez's throat. Immediately, a taser is out, slamming into Danny's ribs and sending him to the floor in a screaming, convulsing heap.

"Fuck!!" you scream, almost having shouted out his real name. "Jed!!" you feel tears burning in your eyes, the name 'Jed' feeling odd and unnatural.

"Get on your feet!" Officer Mirez spits, hauling Danny to his feet and shoving him in the direction of the front door, half-carrying him. You're shoved outside as well, spotting the cop car in the driveway.

How had everything gone to shit so quickly? In a flash like that? Danny had left a photograph of you and him behind on his crime scene, one that was getting you both sent to prison or some sort of asylum.

"Fucking psychopaths, living like everything is normal when you're murdering innocent folks every night," Officer Camrode sneers, shoving you roughly into the car.

"Disgusting. Sick fucks." Officer Mirez says right after, shoving Danny in rish after you. He was still twitching from the electric that had pulsed through him, shaking from the sensation.

"T-T-This i-is m-m-my f-fault isn't i-it?" Danny choked out as best he could, the officers slamming the doors and sliding into the front seats.

"No, no it's not your fault," you shake your head, trying to wipe the tears from your eyes with your shoulders. "Fuck, fuck what are we going to do?" you whisper, Camrode and Mirez setting their gazes on the roads ahead, uninterested in the both of you 'insane' people.

Just 30 minutes before you had been getting out of bed, signing a 'good morning' to your forest killer friend, watching a wall-dwelling man-child make the best damn bacon on the planet, sitting across from an emotionless tank of a human, and now, you were in the backseat of a police car after a psychotic Ghost Faced killer you called a best friend had dropped a photograph of both your faces. You would go to prison for the rest of your life. A numbness spread around the inside of your chest, both you and Danny sitting in an utter silence. What would you do? There's nothing you could do. This was it. You would be deemed insane, sent to some place for crazy people, even though you weren't crazy.

Were you? You were housing criminals, loving them like family despite all the shit they'd done. You'd murdered your own parents, felt happy when your boss had been slaughtered, and now you were being sent into a pit of fear and depression at the thought that you'd never see these cold-blooded serial killers ever again.

This might be it; prison, for the rest of your life. You weren't innocent, you'd taken two lives, witnessed a third, and known about countless others before they happened. You could have stopped them, you could have betrayed all of the killers and you hadn't.

You'd wanted them to live. You'd wanted to live with them, take care of them, have them take care of you, grow close to them.

And now, well... now... You were absolutely fucking screwed.

Doomed to rot in a prison cell.

Forever.