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Why did it have to be this way? So dark, so silent, so...... Empty? It was so hard to comprehend how there could be so much but feel like there is so little. The darkness was so absolute it was almost suffocating. Was it death or just a deep slumber? He did not know. It felt as if he was floating, and yet he could feel solid ground beneath his feet. It made no sense. Surely it must be a dream?

With a start he sat up, gasping for air. It felt as if his lungs were full of water. "What happened," he gasped out loud. A chuckle. "You drowned, dumb boy," a voice said from behind. He drowned? How? He was a strong swimmer- One of the best in the family, even at only twelve years old. He tried to remember but couldn't think through the fog that clouded his mind. He just shrugged and lay down again. He heard footsteps leaving and knew he was alone. He tried to piece together what had happened but couldn't. He knew the voice belonged to his Father. He knew he was lying outside. It was night, he knew that much too. But what had he been doing swimming at night? Nothing made sense.

With a groan, he slowly got to his feet. He was still clothed which confused him further. Swimming in clothes? Was he losing his mind? Surely that was the only explanation for such a thing. Shakily walking home, the moon was almost blinding. All light seemed to burn right through his eyes. As he opened the door, a low and prolonged growl emanated from within the house. Ignoring it, he walked through the halls, up the stairs and into his room where he collapsed on his bed. So tired... So, so tired..

And then came the dreams. Out for a swim after dinner, enjoying the last few rays of sun before night time. Then a splash behind him and a hand on his ankle, dragging him down. Pulling him further and further below the surface, deeper than he remembered the pool being. Pulling him down until the light faded away and all was black. He could feel his lungs straining for oxygen, his heart rate slowing as the life slowly left him. And then he was just floating, unable to move, unable to breathe, unable to do anything.

With a gasp he sat up, choking and desperate for air. As he calmed down, he recalled the details of his dream. A single face was etched into his mind, but it couldn't be. Surely it was just a dream and not a memory? There's no way they could be involved in his accident. It was just a dream. Nearly convinced now, he slowly fell back asleep. This time with no dreams.

A cool, sticky liquid dripping down his face is what woke him up next. He sat up and looked to his doorframe where his Father stood. "Wake up, boy. Don't waste daylight," he said. Wiping the liquid from his face, he discovered it was raw egg. His Father had thrown a raw egg at him to wake him up. "There's your breakfast, boy. Be quick," the shadowy figure said before turning away and leaving. An egg? A raw egg? For breakfast? He decided to forgo breakfast. Eggs didn't appeal to him very much, especially when they were raw and dripping down his face.

Once cleaned up, he went downstairs to the kitchen, where his Father was waiting. One look at the male and his dream came back to him. The face, etched into his mind, refused to leave his thoughts. Shaking his head, he continued into the kitchen. "Good morning, Dad," he said as he entered. His Father responded only by pointing to a piece of paper on the counter. Upon inspection, it was found to be a list of things to do. Mow the lawn, feed the animals, chop wood for the fireplace, bring the wood in and lots more. Why was he always stuck with the hard chores?

Outside, chopping the wood, he heard footsteps approach. He turned around to face his Father. "Make sure it's done right, boy. We don't need a repeat of yesterday," he says with a sneer. A repeat of yesterday? Could it be? No.. Surely it can't. It was just a dream! But still doubt clouded his thoughts. Could his accident not have been an accident at all? Could his Father have tried to kill him?