Enoch woke up in a field, the grass itching his palms. He sat up and surveyed his surroundings, wondering where he was. Nothing looked familiar about it. He heard the crunch of grass behind him and looked towards the sound, seeing old dress shoes, the laces worn slightly. “Oh good, you’re up,” Enoch looked up at the person who owned the dress shoes and swallowed hard.
“I’m dreaming,” Enoch said, pressing his hands into his eyes. The boy shook his head and smiled down at Enoch.
“You most certainly are not dreaming. Well, you are, but not in the sense that you humans use to describe sleeping.” he said. Enoch looked up at the boy.
“What do you mean ‘you humans’? You're a human too, of course, more of a scumbag of course, but a human nonetheless.” The boy looked down at Enoch, confused.
“Why would you call me a human? Nonetheless a ‘scumbag’ human?” The boy asked in a falsely offended voice.
Enoch scowled at him. “Let’s see, you took advantage of my friend when he was drunk and kissed him in the alleyway, and I am sure if I hadn’t stopped you it would have been more than that, then you made my friend kiss me, then you kissed me on the cheek- need I go on?” Enoch drawled on sarcastically. The boy rolled his eyes.
“Well, at least I still have my friends.” The boy smiled maliciously at Enoch.
Enoch stared at him. “What do you mean?” he said forcefully. The boy laughed.
“Here, let me show you some fun- hm, well you might call them ‘clips’, though they are my memories in a sense.” The boy smiled and touched his fingers to Enoch’s forehead as Enoch closed his eyes.
He woke up to the sound of someone screaming. His eyes opened quickly when he realized who was screaming. His blood ran cold. “Jake!” he yelled as he looked around the room he was in. It was white washed with gold hues in the marble, pillars in the corners of the room, the tops gold and the body marble. Another scream resounded through the room, and this time Enoch pinpointed the direction. “Jake!” he yelled again as he ran into the room beyond the door. It was a normal living room. The furniture was a deep scarlet color, the rug a blackish red. The walls were red but the ceiling was black along with the chandelier, making the red have a hint of black in it.
“What the hell?” he whispered. He felt like Dracula was going to jump out at him at any moment. Enoch looked around the room and blinked, and suddenly he was staring at a white marble wall.
“You were taking too long to find the room,” the boy said as he turned Enoch around to face the room beyond. Enoch looked through the viewing window and looked down on what was lying on the table. Jake’s hands were tied down, his chest heaving. A thin stream of blood trickled down his throat as the wound on his chest pulsed more blood out of his body.
“No!” Enoch yelled, banging on the glass, trying to get Jake’s attention. “Jake! Jake, I’m coming, just hold on! Please don’t die,” Enoch said the last bit somewhat quietly, as if the strength in him to yell vanished. He banged on the glass again, looking for an exit and not finding one, but Jake wasn’t looking at the viewing glass. He instead stared at the large instrument one of the doctors- no torturers- was wielding. 
“No! No, please don't!” Jake sobbed as they started up the instrument. It made a loud clicking sound, and they brought it down, though someone stood in Enoch’s way, so all he saw was the slight spray of blood and Jake’s blood curdling scream.
“No! Jake, look at me!” Enoch yelled.
The boy laughed. “He can’t hear or see you.” he said. Enoch glared at him.
“I swear, if he isn’t alive when I swing by to gut your ass, then I’ll be doing a hell of a lot more to you then merely cutting off your limbs.” Enoch growled, snarling at the boy who smiled smoothly into Enoch’s glare.
“Oh no, I’m so scared,” he said, rolling his eyes. He looked back at the room. Jake had stopped screaming and now laid on the table limply. Enoch banged his fist against the glass and snarled some colorful words, the boy raising his eyebrows.
“Well,” he said, clapping his hands. “This was fun, but now, I think you should wake up.” the boy said. Enoch looked over at him, scowling.
“He better still be alive.” he said. The boy rolled his eyes.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say.” 
He snapped his fingers.

Enoch sat bolt upright, sweat making his pajamas stick to his body uncomfortably. He stood up to get away from the hot bed he was in, then walked over to the window, his hands shaking. He still heard Jake’s screams in his ears, loud and clear. His heartbeat was irregular, the fear he had tried to mask in his dream spilling out.
He took a deep breath and walked swiftly down the hall to Jake’s room, opening the door softly, closing it behind him. He turned and saw the bedding turned back and slightly rumpled. His eyes flicked to the window, which let in a cool breeze, the moonlight shafting through the curtains which were drawn. The light shone down on the corner of the desk where an empty plate was, and on the floor.
Where a bloody knife was. Jake’s knife.
Enoch’s face paled as he realized what had happened. Jake never left anywhere without that knife, so there was only one explanation- Jake had been kidnapped.
And if Jake had been kidnapped- Enoch stopped thinking. There was no way that dream held anything factual. It wasn’t real, it couldn’t have been. He looked at the knife again and at the drop of blood next to it, and he felt his insides turn to mush.
He stumbled out of the room, falling heavily on his back. He sat up on his palms and breathed heavily. Horace opened his door, rubbing his eyes sleepily. “What’s going on out here?” he asked. He opened his eyes and saw Enoch on the ground, his face pale white. Horace grew concerned. “You alright?” he asked. Enoch pointed into Jake’s room and Horace looked around, then looked at the floor. He stepped back, his face whitening. “I’ll go fetch Miss Peregrine,” was all he said before he walked down the hallway.
“Tell me what happened exactly, Enoch,” Miss Peregrine asked again when Enoch said nothing. The house was buzzing; most people trying to figure out what had happened, and others keeping the young ones away and occupied. 
“I-I found the knife just laying there,” he said. Miss Peregrine sat him down in Jake’s desk chair after Enoch swayed slightly, paling.
“How did you know to check his room? It couldn’t have been a coincidence that you found the knife so soon after the-” she didn’t elaborate.
“He’s not dead, not murdered, he’s alive, he has to be,” Enoch murmured to himself, staring at the wall with a crazed look in his eyes. Miss Peregrine nodded. “I-I had a bad dream and came to check on him.” Miss Peregrine raised her eyebrow questioningly. “I had a dream that Jake was-hurt,” he forced the words out. “And for all we know he is,” he added quietly, still staring at the wall. Miss Peregrine drew up a chair and sat across from him, bending down and placing his hands in hers, bowing her head to look him in the eyes, as he was still staring at the lower wall.
“You had a dream that Jake was hurt- and he is?” Miss Peregrine asked quietly. Enoch nodded. “This cannot be a coincidence, but it honestly is starting to look like one,” she said quietly as she stood back up, rubbing her temples and pinching her cheeks to help bring more color to her paling face. She walked out the door, a purposeful stride in her step. “I’ll be in my office, knock before entering.” she stated crisply. Everyone nodded as she left the room.
There was silence as everyone made sure she was out of earshot. “Wait, so you dreamed this exact thing would happen?” Horace asked, curiosity making his voice seem almost excited. Fiona punched his arm and glared at him, but Enoch held up his hand, sitting straight in his chair.
“It’s alright, Fiona.” he said. He cleared his throat, then realized he had a wide audience, including young Charlie and some of the more younger kids. “I don’t want to tell this story with little kids in the room.” he said. Fiona and Horace, along with Olive and the twins, shooed the little kids out, the twins taking Charlie and the younger kids outside the room and down the stairs.
Enoch swallowed nervously, but was glad his audience had shrunk severely. Even some of the older kids left; they didn’t want to hear his story, and for good reason, Enoch thought, swallowing again. “So, uh, it’s kind of long, or short, I don’t know um,” he stammered. “Well, it started out with me in a meadow, then the-” he stopped. No one knew that story of how Jake and him kissed, or how Jake had kissed someone else when he was still with Emma. “This stranger walked up to me, and we chatted, mainly angry words- that guy was really annoying,” Enoch said, trying to lighten the mood a little bit. It didn’t work so he went back to his story. “He touched me on the forehead and he zapped me someplace. The walls were marble, and gold seemed to be the hue of the room. That was when I heard the first scream.
“I couldn’t pinpoint it right away, but then I found the source. I ran through the door and entered a weird living room area, then the stranger guy walked up to me and zapped me to a viewing room.” he paused, realizing his throat felt scratchy.
“What were you viewing?” Horace asked softly.
“A torturing. And Jake was the victim.” he said solemnly. The room fell dead silent, no one dared to breath. “Then,” Enoch said after some moments of silence. “One of the torturers- they were dressed like doctors so it looked more like a surgery, but no surgery I know of looks like that.” He took a shaky breath. “One of them raised a weapon that clicked loudly, and then they brought it down on Jake. I couldn’t see where it hit him, but it created a fair amount of blood a-and it splattered the whitewashed walls as his screams washed through the window.” Enoch said as the screams echoed in his ears.
“Oh God, Enoch, I am so sorry,” Fiona said, bending down to hug him. Enoch accepted the hug, but didn’t hug back. He felt semi paralyzed, like the world was underwater. “Well,” Fiona said, standing upright again. “Is it too early to have breakfast? Could use some food right now.” she said, trying to change the subject off of the knife and Jake.
Enoch glanced at the wall and huffed a laugh, Fiona raising her eyebrow at him. “Really? Food at 3 am?” he asked, a slight laugh in his tone. Fiona shrugged.
“Ever heard of a midnight snack? It’s the same, just delayed about three hours.” she said, waltzing out of the room. Everyone seemed to follow Fiona out, but Horace stayed behind. He raised his eyebrow at Enoch and gestured toward the door. Enoch shook his head and gestured for him to go.
“I’ll be down later,” he said. Horace nodded and left, leaving the light on for Enoch. Being with other people helped him not think about the black hole that was his gut right then, but without people, the hole grew and grew. He stared at the knife, hating it with a passion. He glanced at the windowsill as a breeze blew in. Something black glinted on the sill.
Enoch furrowed his eyebrows and walked up to it, reaching down and touching the goo. He sniffed it and the smell instantly sent him back on his heels. It was definitely left by a Hollow, and definitely wasn’t there yesterday. The small sliver of hope inside of him that said Jake was alive died as he realized Jake was probably laying eyeless in the forest.
He wiped his fingers on his pants and walked downstairs, getting himself some food then sitting with the others. Only Fiona and Horace were there, and the others had herded everyone else upstairs and back to bed. “How are we going to find Jake?” Fiona asked when Enoch sat down. Horace shrugged.
“We’ll look for something that can explain this whole mess,” he said. He stared at Enoch, who had clenched his jaw, snapping the food that was in his mouth in half, a loud cracking noise echoing slightly. “You alright, Enoch?” he asked. Enoch nodded, taking another bite of food and being very careful on how loudly he was chewing. “So,” Horace said around the apple he was eating.  “How would you find Jake?” Horace asked Enoch.
“I’d search the woods for signs of blood and follow the trail until I run into Jake’s lifeless, eyeballess form,” Enoch hissed, the emotion inside of him leaking out with every word he said.