The weather outside was getting worse. The rain pelted the asphalt as Jonathan and Mrs. Elwood darted through the windy parking lot. After getting into the car, they could not help but sigh with relief. The two said nothing and rested in silence for a few moments. The only sound was the bar of water dripping down Jonathan's bangs. Mrs. Elwood's fingers froze on the car keys, and the dim light did not obliterate the melancholy on her face.

　　Jonathan had no idea how this petite woman had come to play such an important role in his life. His family had a million secrets and unanswered questions, and Alan Starling refused to divulge a single word about it. All Jonathan knows is that for as long as he can remember, Mrs. Elwood has been in his life as a protector. When he won a small part in an elementary school play, it was Mrs. Ellwood who sat in the audience and applauded at the end of the play. When he was accused of shoplifting, it was Mrs. Ellwood who got him out of the police station. When Alan was very ill a few years ago, it was Mrs. Elwood who unexpectedly came into the kitchen and said she had bought a house at the other end of the street where the Starlings lived. She came to the house most of the time and was the closest thing Jonathan had to a mother among the things he owned.

　　He doesn't know what happened to his real mom. Theresa Starling disappeared before Jonathan was old enough to remember her face. Alan buries the memories related to his wife under the silence and keeps his mouth shut on the subject. When Jonathan was ten years old, he had taken the opportunity to ask his father about Theresa on a fishing trip to a canal in the countryside. After an agonizing thirty seconds, Alan walked away, leaving Jonathan alone with all his fishing gear. He had never seen his dad lose his temper so much. He hadn't bothered to ask the question since then. Mom had left and wasn't coming back. All she left Jonathan with was her name.

　　"I know it's silly to say that," Mrs. Elwood interrupted Jonathan's thoughts, her voice trembling slightly, "I mean, even though I've seen him like this before, ...... it still kills me. I hope he doesn't stay in the hospital too long this time."

　　"Yeah, maybe."

　　Normally, Alan heals after a few days, but there have been times when it has taken longer. When Jonathan was ten years old, Dad lay motionless for six months, and the doctors told Mrs. Elwood that he was never going to get better. In his "darkest" moment, Jonathan wondered if it would have been best if he hadn't woken up a few mornings later. Most of the time, Alan didn't seem to want to live.

　　"Do you want to stay with me while he recovers?"

　　Jonathan made a face, "Do we have to get into another fight about this? You know I like to sleep in my own bed. I won't have any problems at home. Wasn't this nice the last time he was sick, remember?"

　　"I don't know about ......," said Mrs. Elwood skeptically.

　　"You're just down the street, well - even during Dad's fine, I still can't even see him."

　　She sighed, "All right, dear. I get it. Look, we'll still have to see what happens tonight. Be sure to leave your phone on and call me at the first sign of trouble. Can you promise me that?"

　　Jonathan gave a Boy Scout (Scout) style salute, "On my honor."

　　Mrs. Elwood started the car, and within an hour they were back at Jonathan's home in north London (NorthLondon). The area was heavily wooded, the magnificent fences stood stubbornly against the raging rain, and the thorny bushes in the garden were unmoved by the protestations of the howling wind. Jonathan was about to get out of the car when he froze.

　　"Thank you," he finally said.

　　Mrs. Elwood smiled faintly, "It's okay. It's not easy for you, either. I know. But you did a good job."

　　Jonathan gave a humorless chuckle and slammed the car door shut.

　　Jonathan had lived here for as long as he could remember. In one of those rare moments of heart-to-heart, Alan said they had lived in an unnamed northern town when Jonathan was a little baby. Where he got the money to buy the house is still a mystery. The money left over at the moment was certainly not much, just barely enough to eat and buy school uniforms, let alone a vacation and renovate the house. Jonathan noticed that the weeds were winning the battle for the driveway, and the whole house really needed a fresh coat of paint and gutter repair. He fished the key to the front door out of his shirt pocket and stepped inside.

　　The house was only a little warmer than outside, but at least it wasn't raining. A breeze swept across the wooden floor to meet him, nibbling greedily at his ankles. Jonathan shivered and snapped the switch on the porch, and the lights flickered a few times on the high ceiling and came on. The dim light clouded what was normally familiar with an unsettling and unfamiliar hue. Above the luxurious staircase, the dark platform seemed to hide countless secrets and dangers. The desire to break this silence welled up in Jonathan's heart. "Hello hello?" He called out.

　　There was no response.

　　He shrugged his shoulders. This was ridiculous, this was his home after all. It wasn't like he was a kid just learning to walk. Jonathan had spent many a night alone before, not knowing if Alan was home or not, and either his dad had locked himself in the den or was out somewhere. At the time he wasn't scared - to say the least - and he enjoyed his time alone. Most kids love freedom. It's kind of sad to be so startled now.

　　He walked toward the kitchen, turning on all the lights as he went. It was much better to be in the cleanest and most modern place in the house. The refrigerator made a soft humming sound. Jonathan poured himself a glass of orange juice and tried to think of something to eat. He hadn't eaten since lunch, and it was getting late. On the other hand, he wasn't too hungry and didn't want to go to the trouble of making it so complicated. He compromised and grabbed a bag of chips and an apple.

　　Outside, a black van pulled slowly into the street and parked outside the Starling house. The driver turned off the headlights, but no one got out.

　　Jonathan sat at the table chewing thoughtfully on an apple. Mrs. Elwood had promised to call the school tomorrow, so he was free until the weekend. There was no need to go to bed so early this evening. He flipped through the TV schedule, but found nothing to watch. He cursed Alan for the hundredth time for not wanting to pay to turn on satellite TV. Jonathan had spent weeks trying to convince his dad, but finally realized he had no idea what the hell it was.

　　There had to be something that could be done. Jonathan didn't mind spending time on himself - he often liked that - but tonight he wanted to do something other than lie in bed and daydream. He didn't have a computer, but Mrs. Elwood had promised to give him a PlayStation for Christmas. Alan is against computers. He told Jonathan that people should spend their time reading. At the Starling house, all the rooms are basically stuffed with books; most of them are large tomes with long titles, they are tattered and smelling strangely musty, and so many of the pages are missing. Alain was happiest when he was resting his leg on the side of an armchair and concentrating on a particular book. He used to be a university teacher of some subject, it seems, but he doesn't teach anymore. Instead, he spends his days locked up in his study - Jonathan has no idea what he's doing. Dad never let him in; it was the only room in the whole house where the lock on the door still worked.

　　The wind changed direction and blew rain against the kitchen window. Jonathan stood up and pulled the blinds shut. Just then, he thought he saw something moving in the garden, but it was hard to see clearly through the scraggly bushes. Maybe it was just the cat from next door, Jonathan reassured himself. There was nothing to be afraid of. Nevertheless, he checked the lock on the back door several times before leaving the kitchen.

　　He decided to go to his room and lie down on his bed to watch TV. Although there were only a few boring documentary channels, or house modification shows, it was better than hanging around down there without any energy. He went around all the rooms on the first floor, checking to make sure all the windows were closed and closing the curtains again. The weather outside was still harsh, and he didn't see any more movement. After confirming that everything was safe, Jonathan walked up the stairs.

　　The stair landing was a mess, with a small rug crumpled on the floor and a painting knocked out of place. He remembered with a jolt that Dad had been here today when he had an attack. The mess must have been made by the nursing staff when they tried to get Dad out. He straightened the painting and stretched the carpet again, trying not to imagine the scene.

　　He was brushing his teeth when he heard a soft thud coming from the back door. Whatever it was, it definitely wasn't a cat. It was dark outside the lavatory window and he couldn't see anything, but he was sure there was something out there, a shadow moving around the side of the house. Were they trying to get the back door open?

　　Jonathan picked up his cell phone and dialed Mrs. Elwood's number.

　　"Jonathan? Is everything all right?"

　　"I know it's kind of silly to say this, but ...... I think someone is hanging around outside. Should I call the police?"

　　"Don't panic. It should be fine. Stay where you are and don't move. I'll be there as soon as I can."

　　She hung up the phone. Jonathan ran around the second floor, checking all the windows. At the moment, every rattle, every creak of the floor, every snap of rain against the window carried an air of danger. There was a click from downstairs that made Jonathan stop in his tracks. It was as if a door had been quietly closed. It was the front door! He'd forgotten to lock the front door! Someone was coming in.

　　Jonathan's heart was pounding like crazy. He needed to find a safe place to hide and wait for Mrs. Elwood to come over. His first thought was somewhere in his bedroom, but only children hide under the bed. Jonathan headed to the other end of the stair landing. He was thinking of climbing through his father's bedroom window to the roof when he suddenly saw the door to the study half hidden. That must be where Alan experienced the "darkness"! This was the first time he had the opportunity to go into the study.

　　He walked in gingerly, carefully turning the key in the lock hole until he heard a click. The house was 100 percent occupied by other people. Despite their best efforts not to be discovered, Jonathan heard cautious footsteps coming from the stairs. He sat on the floor, put his back against the door, and waited. The door was sturdy, but would it keep out anyone who wanted to come in? Everything around him was submerged in darkness. Despite being in this environment, a voice in the back of his head was still whispering to remind him to turn on the light and check out the study. This might be his only chance.

　　Footsteps sounded on the second floor and lingered in Jonathan's bedroom for a few minutes. Then there was silence. Jonathan lay on the floor and peered out through the crack under the door. At first he could just see the lavatory door, and then a pair of black shoes swooped into his view. Jonathan lay still, even holding his breath, terrified by the sound of his own frenzied heartbeat.

　　Above his head, the door handle turned up slowly, but was stuck by the lock. Jonathan fervently hoped that the locked door would keep the intruder out, but the handle began to turn again, and this time with much more force. There was a piercing wail from the stair landing that sounded nothing like a human and more like an animal. The door shifted violently and his whole body froze. No longer expecting to hide, Jonathan ran across the room and sprinted for the desk, tensing his body and pushing it toward the door as hard as he could. The wailing on the stair landing got louder as something viciously scratched up the study door. The sharp scratching sound of the wood made his teeth sink.

　　Jonathan piled things headlessly onto the desk: a chair, heavy wastepaper baskets, anything that would create an obstacle. The intruder banged heavily, and the door had begun to shake. Jonathan ran to the window and looked down, wondering if he could survive if he jumped into the garden. It was at this point that the banging and scratching came to an abrupt halt. All movement disappeared. He held his breath in the silence.

　　"It's okay, Jonathan. It's me!"

　　It was Mrs. Elwood. Her voice had never put Jonathan so at ease. Jonathan dragged the doorway out of the way and opened it. Mrs. Elwood stood in the doorway in her robe and slippers, with a golf club in her hand. The fear in Jonathan's eyes startled her.

　　"My God! What's wrong?"

　　"There's a burglar!" Jonathan gasped, "There's a man breaking in ......"

　　Mrs. Elwood looked at him hesitantly. "I don't see anyone. Are you sure it wasn't you who had the illusion?"

　　"A thousand times true! There really was someone here," Jonathan said with alarm, "I'm not lying! Look at the door!"

　　Mrs. Elwood examined the wooden door. The painted surface of the door was crisscrossed with long white scratches. She tensed her jaw, "I saw it. It was too close. Come on, you can stay in my guest room tonight."

　　She took Jonathan's arm tenderly, and Jonathan locked the study door behind him and obediently followed her out. Maybe the gesture didn't do much, but it was all he could do. For now, he had to keep the study and the secrets in it sealed as they were.