You weren’t expecting to see him–a twelve-year-old pudgy boy in nothing but a trench coat, holding a red pencil case and a green ruler. The night is dim in Derry, rain pouring on the streets of the quiet, but suspenseful neighborhood; from the looks of it, there isn’t a single person for miles. But in your case, this boy standing before you is something different. He called himself Patrick Hockstetter, and he confessed that he’d run away from home. You weren’t familiar with the name, nor were you in the right mind to process that a random child run from home and made his way through the neighborhood for God knows how long in the pouring rain. But you decided it wouldn’t hurt to let him inside. He’s just a kid, right?

“You have a nice space…” Patrick whispers in his husky voice. In your mind, it doesn’t suit a twelve-year-old boy, but you don’t question it much. Patrick continues looking around with his green-gray eyes, toying with the ruler and pencil case.