Six Boxes. Six Kids. 72 Hours. 75. The End. "Could H possibly stand for hospital? And the ranch bottle be a ranch?" Harry's lawyer asked quietly as Harry's chewing on his pencil came to a sudden halt. "Well I'll be damned. You /are/ good for something!" Harry exclaimed excitedly as the lawyer rolled his eyes. "I think you're looking at the Rancho Los Amigos Hospital." "Wait that sounds familiar. Why does that sound familiar?" Harry asked quickly as he glanced back up at the clock. 37 minutes. They have 37 minutes. "It's the-"
"Hollydale Mental Hospital." Harry finished as he closed his eyes, trying to drown out the ringing in his ears. "I need to call y/n. Get me a phone call and do it now. Innocent lives depend on it."
Akron watched the blood swirl down the drain, a twisted smile displayed on his lips. All was silent in the home that had once been alive with 3 people. Turning the faucet off, Akron straightened up, grabbed his pistol off the bathroom toilet, pulled out his phone and dialed the all to familiar number as the house phone rang. "It's done. Meet me at the gas station." As he hung up he couldn't help but let out a soft chuckle as he heard Harry's voicemail as he exited the residence. /"y/n, it's me. Get to the Hollydale mental hospital and do it now. We don't have much time to spare. I know you don't trust me, but if you want to live go there. Bring Margo along with you....be safe alright? I'll see you soon."/ Backup: @htextingbackup