Tasha placed a hand on Peter's head, and held it gently to hers. "It'll be okay," she told him, her voice trembling. "We understand now. We won't... we know you're still you, it's just the thing messing with you... Dad... you'll be okay..." Despite her words, Tasha started crying.

David was unable to remain seated, so he got up, running both hands through his hair. He didn't want to ask the next question. He hated probing into this thing that was so damn terrible. But it was probably important to have the knowledge on hand. "How long do you estimate, before...?"