Susan felt her frown deepen. The boy didn’t look as though he’d been living on the street. Something about the child struck her as simply being…off. “No, I’m sorry. Like I said, I’m no my way out.”

“You live alone.” It wasn’t a question.

A small chill danced on her spine. Susan didn’t reply.

“A young woman shouldn’t live alone. Sometimes…things…happen to young women who live alone.”

Susan took half a step back, retreating a bit farther into her house, one hand still holding the door. “I’m sorry. You’ll have to go now.”

For the first time the boy lifted his face, his eyes meeting her own. She was struck by how pale his flesh was, but her attention was drawn instantly to his eyes. They were solid black, with not even a hint of iris or whites. Just pure darkness.

Feeling her own eyes widen, Susan said, “Those are…interesting…contact lenses you’re wearing.”

The child stared at her without replying. Susan felt another chill, this one colder and longer-lasting, make its way along her spine. A cold knot formed in her stomach.

“Please leave.”

Staring at her still, the boy shook his head slowly. “I’m hungry. Let me in.”

“No.”

“You must.”

Susan tried to shift her gaze from the child’s but couldn’t. “No.”

“Yes. Invite me in, Sue.”

“How do you know my name?”

He shrugged. “Let me in.”

“No!”

“Invite me in!” The words were snarled, barely discernable.

Susan drew back in shock, her gaze finally slipping from the boy’s eyes. She slammed the door in his face and locked it quickly, her hand shaking. Though she couldn’t see the child, she knew he was still waiting outside. She could feel him waiting.

Shivering, Susan moved away from the door, glancing around, ensuring that all the drapes were tightly drawn. She checked the backdoor, making doubly sure it was secure as well. A glance at the clock told her it was after nine. If she didn’t leave right now, she’d be late for work. But the thought of opening the door, this or any other night, sent a wave of cold sweeping through her.

Turning, Susan picked up the telephone and dialed the number from memory. When someone answered, she identified herself and informed them that she wouldn’t be at work that night.

“Are you feeling alright?” the man asked.

“No, Ralph. Not really. I think it’s these third shift hours, you know? I’ve been meaning to say something for a while. It’s messing with my sleep-cycle too much. I’m getting too run down.”

“No offense, but you don’t sound well.”

“I’m not. I’m sorry, Ralph, but I won’t be coming in for third anymore.”

“We don’t have any openings on another other shift, Sue.”

“Then I’m sorry, but I have to quit.”

She hung up the telephone and stared at the front door. The child was still out there. She could feel him. He was waiting for her. He would, she knew on some instinctive level, be waiting until sunrise.