His eyes flutter open; his nostrils are assaulted with the putrid scent of rat droppings and mildew. Near silent foots steps fall across the hard concrete floor, it’s dim and most of the room is shadowed black. A shadowy figure approaches; he can sense malice in the presence. The figure draws nearer…

Joshua is startled awake, as the tiny hand of his daughter shakes him. “Daddy, Daddy, DADDY!”

Josh rolled over and reached for the glass of water on the nightstand. His throat felt dry and scratchy, as parched as the desert. At first he took a sip, but soon he found himself swallowing gulp after gulp, trying to diminish the drought that had formed in his throat. It felt as if he hadn't drank for weeks, as if the nightmare had sucked the moisture straight out of him.

“DADDY!” Bonita shouted again, her high-pitched voice penetrating the thin membranes of his eardrums. She was three years old with a boisterous voice, pitched high enough to drive canines everywhere crazy.

“DA! DA! DA! DA! DA!” The baby squealed.

He returned the glass of water to the nightstand, sitting up in the bed. A sharp pain formed in the center of his forehead, his vision blurred a little and he felt faint. A migraine was coming on, just what he needed. All around him, voices fought for his attention, for his approval.

“Babe?” Angel asked, followed by Bonita shouting, “DADDY!” which then cued Jason to unleash a second squeal, “DA-DA!”

He wiped his sleep filled eyes, and glanced to his side reading the LCD display of his alarm clock. It was 7 A.M.

A grumble-gargle-growl erupts from his stomach, an acidic taste creeps up his esophagus. Joshua felt starved he needed food.

Joshua rose from the bed, hugging Bonita, kissing the baby and hugging and kissing his wife. The taste still wouldn’t leave his mouth. “Coffee on?” He asked.

“Just finished brewing.” Angel replied. “Want me to make you a cup?”

Joshua nodded.

Angel turned to leave the bedroom with the baby in her arms. Bonita quickly followed behind. “Can I make Daddy his coffee?”

Once he was alone again, Joshua went into the bathroom and searched the medicine cabinet. The pain spider webbing across his forehead nearly brought him to his knees. After a short search he found what he was looking for.

With the bottle of Excedrin Migraine in his hands, he returned to the bedroom where he popped off the top and dumped three or four pills in his mouth, washing them down with the final gulp of water.

He waited a few moments hoping the pain would go away. During those moments his mind wandered back to the dream. What a weird dream, he thought.

Returning the empty glass to the nightstand he picked up the phone.

“I’ve been having these weird dreams…” Joshua begins, “In these dreams it feels like I’m someone else, and there’s this thing… it’s…” He pauses, his mind wandering off to the room, the shadows, that figure…

Joshua’s eyes glaze over, the tiniest indication of REM as he sits in the fine-leathered chair across from his mentor. A minute passes, then another. Finally, “Joshua?” O’Malley asks.

The glaze fades away, and Joshua’s eyes return to a more lively state. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

“I said your name.” David O’Malley replies. “Nothing more, and nothing less.”

Once again, silence fills the room as both men consider what just occurred. To O’Malley this odd behavior seems peculiar, to Joshua however it doesn’t register, as he never realized he zoned out there for a minute.

“Where were you just now?” David asks.

Confusion veils Josh’s face, “I’m sorry?”

“You were telling me about the dream, and then you were gone.” O’Malley replies. “Where did you go?”

Skeptically, “I was right here the whole time.” Joshua responds.

“Physically yes, you were.” O’Malley pauses, examining the man before him. “But when you began discussing a figure your words trailed off, and then you were gone.”

Joshua is silent. He can recall telling O’Malley about the dream, but the more he thinks about the foggier the conversation becomes. “I’m sorry, I hadn’t realized.” He apologizes. “I must have lost myself in thought.”

“He’s gone Josh.” O’Malley states. “You overcame Sanctum, he’s not coming back.”

“I know.”

“No, you don’t.” O’Malley replies. “That’s why this figure is haunting you the way it is. When you see it in your dreams, it reminds you of Sanctum.” O’Malley adds. “It’s not him, he’s gone.”

Joshua nods. Truth be told, he’s not sure if O’Malley is right, at least not this time. Sure, he had hit the nail on the head, the figure did remind him of Sanctum. It emanated evil, pure cold unadulterated hatred radiated from the figure. Joshua knew that in that dream he could feel a semblance from that figure and himself. A part of him reached out to the figure, as though the figure had once been apart of him. Really, who else could it be?

“Unfortunately I couldn’t see him.” Joshua began again. “Bonita woke me up before I could see who it was.”

O’Malley did not respond.

The sun set hours ago, the children are all off into bed and Angel lay beside Joshua in bed. The moon provides a soft glow across the bedroom, reflecting off of empty soda cans, beer bottles and the large mirror on the vanity dresser.

An open bottle of Excedrin Migraine sits on the nightstand, along with a pair of reading glasses. A hardcover copy of “False Memory” rests across Joshua’s chest. Since he awoke this morning, he has been unable to shake this headache. The only reprieve he has found was during his conversation with O’Malley earlier.

Joshua closes the book, and places it on the nightstand next to his pair of glasses. “False Memory” is easily his favorite novel by Koontz, but tonight he just can’t get into the book. Frankly, if this headache persists he doubts he’ll be able to get into much of anything at all.

Angel rolls onto her right side, wrapping her arm around his midsection and snuggling her face into his side. Sighing, he pulls the covers up to his chin, and lays his head back. His vision is blurred at the sides, providing a sense of tunnel vision. Through this tunnel vision he gazes off into the moon glow across the ceiling.

His thoughts wander back to that dream, and more specifically to that figure. He never did tell Angel about the dream, but after everything they just overcame the last thing he wanted was for her to worry about the same thing he was. Neither of them wanted Sanctum to rear his ugly head again, to grasp the reigns of Joshua’s life and direct it the way he chose.

Angel rubs her hand across his chest. This simple act draws Joshua’s thoughts away from Sanctum, The Figure and the dream. Suddenly he becomes aware of how heavy his eyes feel, how drained his body feels and just how tired he really is, he glances at the digital clock, it reads 4 A.M. Joshua stretches and yawns, before finally rolling onto his left side. Angel rolls onto her left side, and he tucks his arm under hers holding her against his body. Angel sighs softly, snuggling her body up against her husbands.

His eyes flutter open; his nostrils are assaulted with the putrid scent of rat droppings and mildew. The soft footsteps fall across the floor, and he knows the figure is approaching. Shadows fill the room, he can feel the hard concrete behind him, his hands are restrained holding him up, and his legs feel weak. A soft growl comes from his stomach, his skin feels clammy, and his clothes stiff.

A door scrapes across the floor, and then shuts with a thud. The footsteps grow a little louder. He can hear a chair scraping across the concrete floor. His head begins to pound again; it feels as though his skull is about to explode splattering blood and gray matter over the walls.

His sight is gone, all that lay before him is darkness. He can sense the presence, the malice, and the hatred pouring through his oppressor. The soft rustle of material adjusting as the presence sits in the chair. A soft creak indicates pressure being applied to what can only be guessed as a wooden chair.

The thing speaks, but he can’t make out the words or the voice. He doesn’t know how he knows it’s speaking, but he knows. The thing begins to taunt him; he can feel fear creeping through his body, then a rush of courage.

This thing feels a part of him. A cold hand falls upon his skin, it’s the thing, the presence that figure!

“One way or another I will BREAK you.”

Joshua snaps awake again. He glances to his right to check the time. 7 A.M.

Sun pours in through the windows illuminating the bedroom. The headache is gone, and no one awaits him this morning. Joshua sits up in bed, taking a sip from a glass of water on the nightstand. He rises from bed, quickly throwing on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt.

“One way or another I will BREAK you.”

The words run like ice water through his veins. The voice was familiar, and the very sound of it struck fear in his heart. Joshua could barely recall the tone of the voice, nor where he had heard it before. What he did know; was that he knew the voice, and the voice inspired fear.

ONE WAY OR ANOTHER I WILL BREAK YOU

With Eryc gone, and O’Malley being of no help yesterday he would have to tell the one person he didn’t want to. He would have to tell Angel, even if it did mean she left him again in fear.

He had to tell someone.