On Tuesday nights five security guards worked the entire Baltimore Psychiatric Hospital. Two on the grounds, two making their rounds on the hospital wards themselves and one watching the camera monitors. Grace knew this; she also knew that the guard monitoring the cameras met a pizza delivery guy outside her window at exactly 11:30pm every Tuesday night, spending about five minutes talking to him before spending a further ten sharing pizza with the guards outside. Fifteen minutes- that's all she needed.

One of those minutes were spent exiting her room and ward, dodging the security guards making their rounds and the odd nurse who had yet to return to their station for the night. It took another three minutes to make her way down to the basement, use the security card she had concealed under her scrubs and enter the hallway which lead to the door she was interested in. It wasn't until the nineteen year old stood inside that tall, high security door did she realise how close she was standing to people locked up for being criminally insane.

Quietly taking a deep breath to steady the nerves that were rattled due to her realisation, Grace took a step forward, letting the door close behind her. She silently tiptoed down the middle of dark hallway, cells lining the walls on either side of her. The only light was sourced from an alcove between two cells in the middle of the hallway, the back wall of which bore a small, barred window near the roof. The window was level with the ground, looking out onto the hospital yard where the floodlights were kept on. The closer Grace got to the light, the more aware she became of the quiet forms of criminals that surrounded her. Sneaking through a den of lions. She thought her pulse was more audible than her steps as she continued, finding herself hoping that the nurses had given the people in the cells around her sedatives to keep them down at night- or at the very least hoped that the inmates were diurnal creatures who tended to sleep heavily. Trepidation shook her tiny five-foot frame as she grew closer to the end of the hallway. All it would take was one criminal to hear her for her to be put in danger- in danger of either being caught or killed. They can't get out of their cells, she reassured herself, but she couldn't dismiss the fear of one of them awaking and alerting her presence to the security guards.

Now having reached the end of the hallway, Grace relaxed slightly. Her eyes had adjusted to the lack of light and she could make out the door leading to the room which contained what she sought after- her grandfather's file, which held both his medical reports and his psychiatric evaluation. Slowly, Grace perched herself on her knees in front of the keyhole of the wooden door, pulling a hidden hairclip out from behind the bobbin which held her long blonde tresses back in a pony tail. As she completed this action, movement to the left of her, followed by a whisper, caused her to completely stop breathing.
"Hello."

Fuck. Grace swallowed loudly before turning her head to see the outline of a figure standing behind a reinforced glass cell door.
"Hi." Her responding voice was weak, and she quickly spoke again in a much stronger yet still quiet voice in an attempt to disguise her fear. "Sorry to disturb you. Please ignore my presence."
The inmate kept his voice low, much to the teen's relief. "Why would I ignore someone as pretty as you? What's your name?"
His compliment sent shivers down her spine. While attempting to continue on with the task at hand- shimmying the hair clip around in the lock as quietly as possible- she mumbled, "Grace."
"How wonderful to meet you, Grace. My name is Dr. Abel Gideon. May I ask what it is you are doing?"
The teen didn't recognise the name, which she presumed was a good thing. He wasn't a notorious murderer, at least. This didn't quell her apprehension, however, as she knew he wouldn't be locked up so tight for any actions that were less than malevolent.
"I..." she began, taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, "I'm looking for something."
The man stepped closer to his cell door, much to Grace's discomfort. "Your breaking into the room with all the old files. Naughty girl..."
Grace felt his eyes boring into her side and tried to block him out, but he wouldn't allow her.
"You're wearing scrubs... So you're a patient here. What are you in for? Or, more importantly, how'd you sneak out?"

After what felt like an eternity, the lock shifted and Grace silently pulled down the handle and opened the door. She was so close- all she wanted to do was run into the room, grab her grandfather's file and get out. However, she was afraid that if she didn't humour Dr. Abel Gideon, he would make noise and foil her plans.
"I sneaked out of Wilson's ward upstairs." She straightened up, about to take a step into the room in front of her before once again being halted by the man to her left.
"Wilson's ward, eh? I suppose they don't feel the need to lock up the sad, depressed people as much as us. You don't seem to be sad or depressed."
Grace shrugged, unsure of what to say.
"No, certainly not sad or depressed. Clever though, to dodge the guards and nurses and break into here. All this for a file? Whose file?"
"Just someone's..." She took a step forward.
The man's voice grew considerably louder. "I asked, whose file?"
Panic. "My grandfather's. Please, Dr. Gideon, I'd appreciate it if you kept your voice down."
He nodded, whispering, "Off you go, then. Come back to me with it when you find it."

With furrowed eyebrows, the teen scurried into the room. This was a bad idea, an extremely bad idea. But, as always, her curiosity got the better of her. She moved through the stacks of shelves, finding the boxes were arranged in alphabetical order. Using her mother's maiden name, she soon found what she was looking for. Lifting the box off the shelf, she grabbed the file labelled 'JOHNSTON, HENRY JAMES' and returned the box to its shelf before slowly moving back out of the room.

Dr. Abel Gideon's head tilted to the side, reading the name on the file. "I've heard of him."
Grace turned to face the cell, eyes wide with surprise. "You have?"
"Mhmm. Where I'm from, he's quite infamous, your grandfather."
"Infamous?"
"Oh yes."
Grace quickly opened the file, scanning it.
"I heard about him, when I was a young boy. His victims were found near where I grew up."
Grace swallowed a lump in her throat, the file in her hands nearly dropping due to the shaking support on which it was placed. "Victims?" Her voice broke on the last syllable before she murmured, more to herself than to the man in the cell, "My mom said he was just admitted 'cause he had a nervous breakdown..."
"Mommy dearest lied. His work was much sloppier than mine and yet he was given a better nickname."
She blinked, incredulous. "Nickname?"
"Yes, his was much better than 'The Chesapeake Ripper'."

Grace scoffed, shaking her head. "You're lying. My grandfather wasn't a killer, just like you're not The Chesapeake Ripper. They haven't caught him yet."
"I am The Chesapeake Ripper! I don't need to prove myself to you, the FBI, Will Graham or anyone else. How could I do what I did to the nurse last week if I wasn't him?"
If the other inmates weren't awake before, they certainly were now. Dr. Gideon had made sure of that. Still, even though Grace knew she should be fleeing, her inquisitive mind held her there.
"What nurse? What are you talking about?"
Dr. Gideon chuckled menacingly. "They obviously didn't tell you little sad folk in case it upset you more. Ask the guards. Ask the other nurses. I am The Chesapeake Ripper!"

Just at that moment, a few metres away, one of the other inmates began half screaming, half cackling at the top of his lungs. Grace heard guards coming down the stairs and acted on instinct, running back into the room with the file and closing the door behind her. She flicked through the papers inside, straining her eyes as she tried to read in the dark. She didn't catch every word but a few such as 'psychopath', 'lack of empathy', 'manipulation', 'dismembered' and 'victims' stood out most. Grace's eyes widened, horrified, and she was sure she could feel her core temperature drop dangerously as her limbs went numb.

The teen was knocked out of her shell-shock when the loud, authoritative voice of one of the guards telling the inmates to settle down came booming from the hallway. A flurry of movement was all it took for Grace to grab her grandfather's file- which she hadn't noticed she had dropped- off the ground and place it back into its designated box. She heard an unfamiliar voice shout, "She's in there! I saw her!" And, on cue, Grace turned and stared listlessly at a wall as one of the guards walked into the room behind her.
"Hey! What are you doing down here?"
No response. The teen didn't make a move until the guard walked over and shook her shoulder, at which point she yawned and rubbed the side of her face, turning around to look at him doe-eyed, confusion etched on her sleepy countenance. "Hmm... Who are you? Where am I?"

Feigning sleepwalking... Well, desperate times call for desperate measures.