I was jolted out of sleep. I'd had a horrible, terrifying dream. I was sweating, and very scared. I looked around me and remembered where I was. I tried to slow down my fast breathing. Something in the dream had scared me. I could still feel fear. But when I tried to recall what it was that had scared me, I merely felt more fear. I didn't know why I was scared, but it was a powerful feeling.
After the horrible dream, I was unable to get back to sleep. The closet which I had insisted on being locked in had no lights or windows, and therefore no way of telling how much time had passed or if it was even still nighttime. I assumed it was still night, because the door was still locked, and no light came under the door. I wished that I could tell what time it was. I should have thought to have brought a clock, but it was too late now.
When light finally crept under the door, I listened carefully for sounds that the others were waking up and moving around. But there was still no sign of movement from outside. That is, until I heard a crash. It was a loud, sudden crash that would have jolted me awake had I been asleep. I instinctively ran to the door to see what had fallen. But the door was still locked. I pounded on the door and started shouting.
"Mike! Peter! Micky! " I yelled. There was no response. Panic struck me. What if the roof had fallen in over them? I'd be saved since I was on the first floor, but they were upstairs. I tried to bang on the ceiling, but I couldn't reach it, and there was nothing in the closet to bang on it with. So I continued shouting.
When my voice began to go and my throat began to hurt I decided to give up. I resigned myself to having to spend the rest of my life in a closet. That certainly wouldn't be much longer than it was, since there was no food or water in here. I'd die without seeing light again. I paced. Already, it seemed insanity was beginning to take over. How much longer, I wondered, before I went totally bonkers?
After what must have been about an hour, (there was no way to mark the passing of time), or maybe longer, I heard a faint noise. At first I thought that I was dreaming, half-asleep, and put it out of my mind. But then I heard another noise. After a short while after I heard a noise from the stairs. A shuffling of feet as they walked down the stairs. I listened carefully, wondering if I was dreaming. I heard footsteps pass the door. I stood up (I'd been lying on the cot) and went and put my ear to the door. The footsteps were moving around on the ground, going about normal activities, and I heard a bang of pots and pans to support this. Whoever was out there obviously thought nothing was wrong. Perhaps I had imagined the loud crash, and the hysteria that followed was the start of my slip into insanity. There was only one way to find out. I tapped lightly on the door, hoping that whoever was on the other side would hear and let me out. I heard a momentary silence, as though whoever was on the other side was trying to determine from where the tap came from. Then I heard the footsteps move closer. I shut my eyes and listened. From the other side of the door came a feeling of curiosity. I tried to probe deeper, to see if this power I had could be used to benefit me. I was looking for something to assure me that the body attached to the feet on the other side of that door was friendly. But I needn't have probed.
"Davy?" I heard the voice on the other side say. I listened again. "Was that you I heard?" After a second I was able to place the voice. It was Mike. For some strange reason, I decided not to respond with words, but tried to get to him with my thoughts. I wondered if it were possible. I'd never tried it before with a physical barrier in front of me. Before I'd always been able to see the other person's eyes, and use them to my advantage. I looked at the door and at the spot where I figured Mike's eyes would be. Then I thought hard.
Mike stood on the other side, awaiting an answer. After standing there for a little while without a response, he decided that he'd imagined the whole thing, and he'd go back to making breakfast. As he turned around to head back to the stove, he thought about how often lately he'd been the one making breakfast. It was logical that he would, he realized. Usually we divided up the responsibility of making the meals between the four of us. But lately he'd been waking up first and he figured that he'd do something with the rest of his time. Micky certainly couldn't be expected to make anything edible now, and before most of his concoctions had looked less than edible. The taste hadn't been bad, but there were many times when we'd eaten food that tasted delicious, and afterward wondered what it was that we'd eaten. Thinking of this made Mike smile at Micky's kitchen experiments, the good and bad, but thinking of Micky diverted his thoughts. He momentarily stopped and thought of his unfortunate friend while he went to the refrigerator and began to search for some food. There seemed, he thought, a thought in his mind which was trying to come out but for some reason was blocked. But then he stopped what he was doing when he heard a scream. It was loud and almost unnatural at first, but then he realized why. The scream was coming from two places at once.
