5 minutes later, though, he gave up. He decided to go to the kitchen and drink a glass of milk. He raised from his bed and noiselessly made his way downstairs. Never relying on his intuition, which was wailing like a siren now, before, this time none the less Frank looked around before continuing his way down the hall. The house was dark, quiet and empty.

Suddenly a lighting flashed in the sky, followed by the peal of thunder, and everything went light as if it was a daylight. Before all went dark again Frank accidentally glanced at the kitchen window and, gasping, jumped back in suddenness when he saw someone looking at him!

Darkness filled the house again. Frank’s heart was beating like mad as he stood, rooted to the ground. He was sure he hadn’t dreamt it. There was someone at the window! He swallowed nervously, unsure of what to do.

Just then another lightning stroke. There was no one staring at him this time. Whoever the man was, he had disappeared. Frank fearfully looked around at the thought that maybe that someone had found his way into the house and was standing right behind his back, ready to hit him with an axe. Making certain that he was alone in the corridor, he made his way upstairs and slipped into his parents’ bedroom. Laura was sleeping on her husband’s shoulder while he was holding his arms around her. Frank touched his father’s shoulder and Fenton’s eyes instantly snapped open. Without saying anything, Frank pointed at the door, beckoned him out and walked out of the room.

"What’s up?" Fenton asked, following his son and putting on his dressing gown.

Frank briefly told him about the face in the window. "Interesting," Fenton frowned and followed Frank into the kitchen. He approached the window and, after making sure that no one was there, opened it to look at the ground. "You’re right," he said with a concerned face. "I can see someone’s footprints on the ground." He looked to the left and to the right, "But I think he’s no longer here."

Frank’s face was set in disgust. Why would somebody need to look into their house? And for what purpose? Could it be a thief or worse?

Fenton meanwhile went to his study to get a special mixture and came back. Putting on his coat, he went outside and inundated the footprints on the ground, which was wet and soft because of the rain, with the mixture. Then the searched the ground for anything the person could have dropped, but found nothing. "It will have thickened by tomorrow and I'll bring it to the police so they could make an examination," he said, coming back into the house and turning on the alarm system. "That’s all I can do for the present moment."

"Who could it be, Dad?"

"Whoever you like," came the reply. "Who knows how many bad guys are out there tonight. What were you doing downstairs at 2 in the morning?"

"I couldn’t sleep, went to get a glass of milk and saw him."

"You okay?"

"Yes, everything’s all right," Frank replied. "Though I don’t like it when strange guys look at me through the window of my house at a stormy night."

"And who would like it?" Fenton smiled at his son. "In any case he’s gone and the alarm system is on, so he won’t disturb us tonight anymore. Let’s go to bed, it’s late."

Together they went upstairs and wished each other good night. As Frank closed the door of his room behind himself, he looked out of the window where the pouring rain kept falling. The houses that stood on each side of High Street had no lights on in any of them and the street was shrouded in complete darkness. Looking farther, he spotted a man far away who was walking away. Frank wondered if it could be the man who stared at him minutes ago, but he already disappeared from the view.

Joe got a key out of his pocket and opened the door of such a familiar flat in Chicago. He entered and shut the door behind himself. And only then he noticed how dark it was inside. He couldn’t even see his own hand.

Instinctively he reached out his arm to turn on the lights, but his fingers instead of finding the switch only touched thin air. Where has the wall gone?

He narrowed his eyes to try and see anything, but it was pitch dark. Once again, he tried to find the switch, but still there was nothing. Joe made a step back in order to open the door and walk out of the strange place, but the door seemed to have disappeared! He turned on his heels made a few steps, expecting to find the door right in front of him, but he walked and walked and still he found nothing!

What the hell is going on? He knitted his eyebrows. He listened carefully to hear any kind of sound, but it was all silent. It was as if he was in a black hole: there was nothing around him, but the bottom on which he stood.

"Right, it’s the bottom," a rasping voice suddenly said, reading his mind.

Joe jumped in surprise. He looked into the direction of where he thought the voice had come from, but only blackness was surrounding him.

"This is the bottom to which you’re going to fall soon," the voice continued. "And you will never get out of here…. You’re gonna stay here forever…."

"What are you talking about? And who are you?" Joe managed, feeling chills up and down his spine as the invisible man spoke.

"I am the answer to your question."

"My question?" Joe raised his eyebrows in surprise. "What question?"

"The question that keeps you thinking…. that keeps you wanting to know the answer…. that is bothering you…. and that you are going to find the answer to very, very soon."

"I don’t understand you," Joe said, turning around to see the speaker. It was as if the voice was coming from everywhere. "What do you mean?"

"I'll show you…." someone clapped his hands. "Voila!"

20 yards away the lights were turned on. Joe saw a brown ground with a chair in the middle of it. On the chair sat a man whose arms and legs were firmly tied to the chair.

Joe’s eyes went wide as he recognized the man. "Dad??"

Paul started to shake his head, "Joe, run away! Stay away! Do you hear me? Get out of here! Run as fast as you can out of here!!"

Not listening to him, Joe, on the contrary, started running to him. "Dad, what’s going on? What’s happened with you? What has this man done with you?"

"No, no, Joe, please, don’t run here!! He’s gonna kill you, too!!" Paul screamed.

"What??" suddenly Joe saw a gun appear near his father’s head. His hair stood on end. "NO!! Whoever you are, stop it, don’t do it!! No, Dad!!!"

"He is not you Dad!" the voice said coldly. "Do you really need a man who is no one to you? Come on, I'll kill him and that’ll be it."

Joe was running as fast as he could to help his father. "No, please, I am begging you!! Don’t do it! He is my Dad! I love him! I need him! I need nobody else but him. Don’t kill him! He didn’t deserve it!!!" Only a couple of more yards and….

"Joe, no!!! Don’t run here!!! Stay away!! You…" were the last words of Paul Stevenson.

Joe froze as the deafening shot stopped the life of the man he had been calling his father for years. Joe stood there, unable to breathe, his eyes wide open in shock…. Paul’s head was laying on his shoulder and there was a steam of blood running from a little hole in temple and down his cheek…

"No…." Joe whispered in horror, shaking his head like mad. "No, it’s not true…He cannot be…."

"He is dead!!! Dead!! DEAD!!!" the voice laughed. "I killed him!! Yes, I did!"

"No…." Joe started backing away, still looking in horror at the motionless figure of Paul. "No, you couldn’t…. He couldn’t…. he is…"

"He is dead!!" the voice repeated. "And now you are going to follow him!"

As if fascinated, Joe watched the gun aiming at his head, he was unable to turn around and run from his fate. His legs were giving up under him as he tried to make them move. Joe instinctively raised his arms to cover his face, knowing that they would not stop the bullet, and screamed…..

"Joe, Joe, wake up, wake up," Paul was telling him, holding Joe by his shoulders. "Wake up!"

It took Joe some moments to realize that he was in his bed in a sitting posture. He was breathing heavily and his heart was ready to jump out of his chest. He could feel his pajamas stick to his sweaty body.

"Shhh, it’s okay, relax, it’s okay," Paul, who was sitting on the edge of Joe’s bed, was kept soothing him. "Take a deep breathe in and relax. It was just a dream…."

Joe stared at him in the darkness. He could see how concerned Paul’s face was. A flashback rushed through his head. "Oh my God, you’re alive!!!" Joe heaved a sigh of relief as he threw his arms around his father.

"Of course, I am," Paul assured him, returning the hug. He was a bit taking aback by Joe’s outburst. "See, I'm here, alive and in one piece…."

"You’re alive….You’re alive…" Joe kept whispering, clanging closer to Paul. "Thank God you are."

"Joey, calm down. Whatever you dreamt about was just a nightmare. It’s okay," Paul patted Joe on his back, still holding him close.

"It was so scary…" Joe whispered, his eyes still closed. "He… It…. When it killed you….I…. And then it aimed at me and…. I was so scared….I couldn’t stop it…"

Paul frowned, what did he dream about? "It was just a nightmare, think about something else, Hawaii, for example…."

Joe inhaled deeply to cool himself down, when he felt more or less better, he opened his eyes and realized it was pre-dawn hours. It was still dark, but not as dark as at night, it was more like gray-bluish. He was in his room with a man who made him feel so safe. Just then he remembered the previous evening, I'm hugging somebody else…. It was as if he was stricken by high-tension current. He took a deep breathe in and let go of Paul. "I'm fine…"

"Sure?" Paul solicitously asked, his hands still on Joe’s shoulders.

Joe nodded, looking down at his blanket, unable of looking him in the eyes. "Yeah… I'm sorry, I awoke you."

"No problems," Paul warmly smiled at him. "Want to talk about your dream?"

Joe’s heart went pit-a-pat, Paul was so understanding and gentle, just like a real father…. And deep inside Joe felt so relieved that his dream was just a nightmare that he almost felt like Paul’s son…. It reminded him of his childhood. When he was little he used to dream about scary things once in awhile and he would always run to his Dad to speak out.

"I…. dreamt that…." he said moments later, "that you were killed….shot by an invisible man…. And then this gun aimed at me….And I was…" Joe screwed up his eyes, trying to get rid of the images in his head.

Paul was silent for some moments. If he dreamt about Joe being killed right in front of his eyes he’d go mad. "It was just a nightmare, it’s not real."

"Yeah, I know, but…. I begged him not to do it and you kept telling me to run away and I didn’t listen…" Joe put his hands on his head, wanting to make his mind stop playing the images over and over again.

Paul pulled him close once again, noticing how Joe jerked slightly, "It won’t happen, it was just a bad dream. I won’t leave you….Do you want me to bring you some water?" he asked. At Joe’s nod he went downstairs and came back with a glass of water. Joe downed it in one big gulp. "Now, let’s try getting some sleep, ok? There are only a couple of hours left, but still it’s worth trying," Paul said, yawning, "Do you want me to stay with you?"

"No, no, there’s no need, I'll be fine. Go. Don’t worry."

"I wish I could ever stop worrying about you," Paul mumbled as he raised up from Joe’s bed. "Sleep well. And try not to think about you nightmare."

Joe nodded and laid back, tucking up in his bed. Minutes ago he was hot, and now he was shivering even under the blanket. He put his hands on his face and instantly felt warm breath on his skin. All his muscles hurt badly as if he had been working out a lot. Joe knew these symptoms too well. It was either from overstraining himself, for example by studying, or from a cold. He laid like that for several minutes, trying to doze off.

But sleep wouldn’t come. He turned onto his right side, shoving his blanket away as he felt suddenly hot. His eyes stared at the wall which was dark-bluish because of the light coming from the window. He remembered his dream and shuddered.

"I am the answer to your question," the same voice echoed in his mind.

Joe shook his head in the darkness, "That is not the answer, that was just a nightmare. If he died it wouldn’t solve anything. It…it would only hurt me," he thought to himself. "He may be not my real father, but I don’t want him to be killed…. God forbid! It wouldn’t be the answer…."

He closed his eyes, trying to block out everything and let himself fall asleep. But, as usual, he couldn’t do it because of exhaustion. He tiredly sighed. This all is killing me…. I can’t stand it all physically, let alone emotionally…. I can’t handle it. I don’t want to… His head was buzzing because of constant thinking. In the back of his troubled mind he kept thinking about Paul’s story, about his parents and about what he should do with it all, but he couldn’t already understand any of his thoughts. The rumble in his head was unbearable, Joe desperately wanted to fall asleep just to escape from everything for some time….

Joe turned onto the other side, feeling his whole body ache. He thought that the last thing he needed now was to get sick and spend a week in bed with high temperature. His hand flew to his forehead to check for fever. Maybe it’s for the better, he smiled meekly to himself as he felt how warm his forehead was. I won’t have to go to school and will be able to spend some time at home, thinking about everything. Maybe I'll come up with a good idea about what to do…. On the other hand, laying in bed 24/7 with your Dad mothering you isn’t the best thing either….Tough choice. With another fit of shiver, he adjusted his blanket back over himself. Your Dad mothering you…. You mean not your Dad mothering you…. Joe put his face into his hands. No, don’t think about it. Not now. Later. Now you need to sleep.

But it wasn’t so easy. His head was as heavy as lead. He snapped his eyes shut, but the moment he did so a flashback rushed through his head. Once again he saw Paul, tied up to that chair, with a hole in his head.

He sat upright in his bed, his eyes opened. He could still hear Paul’s screams, telling him to run away. He needed a couple of minutes to calm down and make himself think about other things. God, this is so odd, he thought over the buzz in his head. Only hours ago I didn’t even want to know him…. And now I'm scared because I dream of him being murdered…. Not my father…. Why do I still care then?

He looked at the bedside table where the chain laid. May God will always bless you, he remembered the writing. Bless me…. They relied on God giving me to an unknown man who could have done anything with me… Joe laid back in his bed, never taking his eyes off the chain which glittered in the dim light coming from the window. What if they wished me the best when giving me to him, maybe they wanted me to have more than they could offer?…. But Dad didn’t have much back then either… he took the chain into his right hand. His fingers felt the coldness of the metal. Who knows how many brothers and sisters, who live with other people like me, I may have…. They didn’t even try to find me…. He rubbed his tired eyes with his cold fingers. Or did they?…

The sky was already steel-blue, but he still couldn’t relax and drift off to sleep. Finally, he laid on his front on buried his face into the pillow, his head hurt too much to produce any thoughts, so soon he fell into uneasy sleep.

Joe literally fell down from the stairs and went into the kitchen. His muscles ached badly, probably, he had been sleeping in a terrible pose. He flopped down on a chair, put his arms on the kitchen table and rested his head upon them.

"Good morning to you, too," Paul greeted him. He was sitting on the chair opposite Joe and was drinking his coffee. "Slept well?"

"I didn’t….didn’t….sleep…" Joe waves his hand in front of his nose and sneezed. "Sorry."

Paul reached out his arm, put his hand under Joe’s chin, raised his head and looked into his son’s bloodshot eyes which looked especially unhealthy on his pale face. He put his palm over Joe’s forehead and whistled, frowning, "You’re running a temperature. Aggh, I knew I shouldn’t have left you outside yesterday. How’s your head?" he asked, standing up to take Joe’s temperature.

"Dunno," Joe replied, resting his head back on his hands. "I don’t know anything…."

"Does it hurt?"

"It keeps buzzing. And going round and round and round and…."

"101," Paul whistled as read the thermometer. "Fabulous! What should I do with you, young man?" Paul sighed. "I've got a conference today, I can’t cancel it and stay to take care of you."

"Where? In school?" Joe chuckled, leaning against the back of his chair, his eyes closed. "I don’t think your presence would help me much."

"Oh, come on, do you really wanna go there today?"

"Do I have a choice?" Joe asked, deep inside hoping to hear that he could not go to school today.

"Well, I'll have to believe the thermometer that you’re not simulating like you used to do when you were a kid. You’d better stay home today and sleep off," Paul suggested. "Why send you to school if you’re gonna flunk everything? If you don’t feel better in the evening, I'll have to call a doctor."

"I was going to a library in the evening. I have a report to write."

"This can wait," Paul said, looking sternly at him. "Your health is more important to me than any of your reports."

"Wellman doesn’t think so, he will eat me lock, stock and barrel if I don’t bring that idiotic report," Joe replied. "Besides, I don’t think I am so seriously ill. Just need some hours of sleep. Please, no doctors. You know I can’t stand them."

"Ok," Paul gave in. "If you feel better, go to that library is you need it so much. Hopefully, if you don’t feel too well you won’t be able to go too far and will come back or will be brought back here," Paul smiled, rummaging in the first-aid set. "But you really don’t look too good, you know."

Joe shot him a glance, "Look at yourself! You’re no better."

"But I am not a high school student, I work for a serious company. Here, drink it," Paul handed Joe two pills. "I know you hate any kinds of medicine, but it’s necessary."

"What is it?" Joe wrinkled his nose at the sight of white pills. "Purgative?"

"Yeah, mixed with sedative," Paul said with the most serious face. But then his lips curled into a smile, "Just kidding, that’s sedative to help you sleep and aspiring to make you feel better. No complaints, please."

Joe swallowed them with one gulp and made a wry face.

"Now quick march! Off you go to bed!"

"Erm…. One thing. Do you have some time?" Joe quietly asked.

"Only some, what?" Paul turned to him to listen.

"About….about yesterday," Joe fidgeted in his chair, not looking at Paul. He bit his lower lip, not knowing how to start. "I gave it all a lot of thought tonight and I….I…."

"You…" Paul urged. "Come on, just say it."

"I still haven’t come up with anything…. You know, this is so difficult. I don’t know how to handle it…. For example now I am talking with you like nothing happened, but deep inside I feel so strained like…like I'm talking with a stranger, although…." Joe stopped and licked his lips nervously.

Paul sighed and walked to sit on the edge of the table, "Actually, I am glad you started it. It’s been bugging me, too. It must be easier for me, because I knew everything from the very beginning, but at the same time…. Joe, this is not going to get better only after some hours. And nothing is going to be like before, but we’ve got to keep moving on, don’t you think?"

"How? How can I move on when everything seems to have stopped?"

"Hey, life goes on. I will never stop if something unpredictable happens with you. Just be yourself. If you feel hurt or offended or whatever, well, that’s the way you feel and you can’t do anything about it. Just give me a sign and maybe between the both of us we’ll find the solution…. Maybe I am not your real father, but I know you well enough to understand you and to find good advice that would be suitable for you. Just remember that I'm always on your side. You’re my little baby. And I am your daddy. And it will always be this way for me. Even if you go to find your real parents."

Joe thought. Find his parents. He was thinking about it almost all night long. "You know, I…. I don’t want to leave you….But at the same time I want to know the truth… Why they did it, if they still think about me, if they have tried to find me…."

Paul tousled his light brown hair, "I understand," he quietly said, sighing. "And I guess I would feel the same way if I were in your shoes…. Weigh all possible variants and choose the one that seems the best for you…. Joe, I have no right to stop you from searching for your parents. If finding them will make you feel happier…. What can I do? I can only help."

Joe sniffed his nose and thought for some moments, "Will you really help?" he quietly asked, looking down at the floor.

Paul looked down at the boy with a sinking heart. Help him find those people who didn’t give a damn about him, help him go away…. He bit his lips, unsure of what to say. "Joe, look at me."

Joe raised his tear-filled eyes and saw those familiar warm blue-gray eyes.

Over the lump in his throat, Paul said, "If you really want it, yes, I will help you…. Not because I want to help, but because I care about you and I want you to be happy."

"I am happy…. But…. But I want to know the truth…. Dad, I am not going to leave you," Joe’s emotions were taking the best of him and he couldn’t stop the words he was saying, "I will never leave you. You are my family. Please, don’t think that I don’t need you anymore. You will always be my father. I just…. I want to look them in the eyes…. Do you understand? "

Paul nodded and smiled weakly, "Of course, I do. If you want to look at them I will get them from wherever they are," He gently stroked Joe’s cheek and felt how warm his son’s skin was. "Damn, in this chit-chat I forgot that you’re running a fever. Come on, let’s get you to your bed."

Joe forgot about his temperature, too. He slowly raised from his chair and allowed his father to take him upstairs. Once in bed, he felt how sick he really was, his body went limp the moment it took the horizontal position. Paul gingerly adjusted his covers and stood up.

"Daddy?" Joe asked, his eyes half-opened.

Paul turned around to look at him, "What, kitty?" he used the name he had been calling Joe until he turned 10 or so and started thinking he was too adult to being called so childishly.

"I just…. I love you."

Paul smiled at him, "I love myself, too, you know."

Joe mumbled something about how ‘it was his words’ in reply, muffling himself in his blanket. A second later he was fast asleep. He never heard Paul leave his room.

He never, as well, heard someone sneak into the house some time later….