Richard opened his eyes when he felt a hand grip his leg. A boy stood at the foot of Richard's cot, holding his calf through the blanket. The boy was wearing a black coat with a hood. He had black hair and his skin was pale and almost white, and Richard could see the faint blue veins running along his cheek. The room did not have an artificial light, and the window on the boy's left cast shadows over his eyes. Richard did not move, and the two of them looked into each other's eyes and shadows of eyes.

Richard broke. He pulled his leg out of the boy's hand. He thrust his body out of the bed and ran to the door. The door did not open. The knob did not turn. The lock did not move. Richard shouted for a policeman, for a nurse, for anyone. He pounded on the door. No one answered, and there were no steps or voices in the hall. Richard turned around, and saw that the boy had not moved. He was still standing in front of the window, casting a shadow across the room.

The boy walked slowly in his direction.

Richard said, "Who are you?"

The boy did not answer.

Richard said, "Who are you?"

The boy did not answer. He was only a few feet away. He reached out to Richard.

Richard whispered, "Who are you?"