Sometime in the very early morning, Peter was awakened by a sound in the kitchen. Alerted, he sat up. Glancing outside, he saw that the sun was barely up.
Peter made his way out of bed and across the living room. Who would be up this early? Though he hadn't lived with the others for a few years now, he knew that none of them were in the habbit of waking up very early. So who was in the kitchen?
He pushed open the door and entered the kitchen. "Davy?" he asked, surprised by the figure. Davy was standing in front of the stove, frying an egg.
"Mornin' Petah," Davy replied. "Want an egg?"
"Um, sure," Peter replied. "What are you doing up this early?"
"Makin' breakfast," Davy replied, as if it couldn't be more obvious. Which it couldn't.
Peter rolled his eyes. "I can see that, Davy," he replied patiently. "I meant, why are you up making breakfast at," he paused to look at the clock, "six-fifteen in the morning?"
Davy shrugged. "Couldn't sleep," he mumbled. "Keep 'avin' nightmares." Peter nodded.
"I know how you feel," he replied. "Could hardly sleep myself." Davy was silent as he looked down at his egg, frying in the pan. It crackled and hissed, but he barely seemed to notice it.
The darkness was what scared him most. A tall man, a slender woman. Noises all around him. But the scariest thing was the darkness. Not being able to see a thing. Then the man's voice came. The woman was there, with a bored expression. The man yelled. Pain hit him, hard, but he couldn't scream. Couldn't cry. Then it was dark again.
"Davy!"
He was snapped out of his daydream by some yelling. It took him a moment to realize who was yelling.
"Petah?"
"Yeah. Davy, are you okay? You nearly set the place on fire! How well done did you want that egg?" Peter asked, a concerned look on his face.
Davy looked down at the blackened mess in the frying pan that had once been an egg. "Oops," he mumbled.
"Oops exactly," Peter replied, scraping the egg into the garbage. "Maybe you'd better let me cook the eggs," he added, cracking another one into the pan and turning on the flame. Davy nodded, numbly, and sat down.
"Peter? What's all the yelling?" Nicole asked, rubbing sleepy eyes as she entered the kitchen.
"Oh, Davy's a little out of it this morning," Peter explained. "Nearly burned the Pad down, that's all."
The woman's voice could be heard in the next room. Moans, cries, squeaks. The man's voice in response. Sleeping would be impossible. Even though he was used to it, it would be impossible knowing they were in the next room.
The place smelled of alcohol and some other stench he'd never smelled before. That explained the man's activities. He'd been drinking.
A light came on, and he huddled under the dirty, dusty, smelly covers as the man walked through the room, grumbling to himself. He went through the room and into another. Through the door, the man could be seen drinking a glass of water.
"Davy? Oh, geez, not again. What's the matter with you today, Davy?" Peter asked.
Davy looked up. "Huh?"
"You're slippin', buddy," came Mike's voice. "This is upsettin' you isn't it?"
"What?"
"This. You know, with Thomas bein' missin'. It's upset you ain't it?"
Davy blinked. He didn't remember Mike even being in the room. He looked at the clock. The time was now seven fifteen. He must have been out for awhile, he realized.
"No, Mike, it's not that," Davy replied, remembering he'd been asked a question.
"Then what is it?" Peter asked. "You're lost today, man."
"I'm not sure. It's too fuzzy."
"Did someone mention fuzzy?" Micky asked, entering the kitchen.
"'Bout time you dragged yourself outta bed," Mike grumbled.
Micky just grinned. "What's for breakfast?" he asked.
"Eggs," Peter replied, dishing out a couple more onto a plate for Micky, who immediately began to gobble them up.
"What do you mean it's fuzzy?" Nicole spoke up, returning Davy to his original train of thought. "What's fuzzy?"
"The images," he replied. "It's mostly in darkness."
The others exchanged glances. "What are you seeing?" Nicole asked. "Visions?"
Davy shrugged. "I don't know, man, that's the thing. I can't tell. I know I'm seeing somethin', but I don't know from whose eyes. I don't know any of the people, and I 'aven't brought myself there. It's showing up randomly."
"Maybe somebody's showing them to you for a reason," Micky suggested with a mouthful of eggs.
"Somebody who? And what are they of? The pictures are too fuzzy," Davy replied, frustrated.
"Isn't there more than pictures, though? I mean, like noise, feelings?" Nicole asked. Davy nodded.
"Not much, though," he replied. "There's fear, mostly. Just straight out, pure fear. "
"How about noise?" Mike asked. "Any noise?"
"A little bit... There's voices," he remembered. "A man, and a woman. I can't see them, but I can hear their voices. And squeaks. "
"Squeaks?" Nicole asked.
Davy looked somewhat embarrassed. "From...a bedroom," he added, mumbling. Nicole raised an eyebrow, and the others could barely keep from chuckling.
"I don't get it," Micky said, swallowing his egg. "What are the images of?"
"I'm thinking that they're what someone is seeing. But I don't know who," Davy replied.
"Do you think it could be Thomas?" Nicole asked, hopefully.
Davy just sighed and shook his head. "I suppose it's possible," he replied. "But I can't tell. I don't get any clues as to whose images these are. I don't know who is seeing them."
"Have you tried looking for Thomas?" Peter asked. Davy shook his head.
"Every time I try to, I just get these images," he replied. Just then the phone rang.
