That night, Jack lay in bed, contemplating everything. He considered his father's abrupt reappearance a positively-charged event in the hole of negativity he lived in. However, the knowledge that his father couldn't do much depressed him.

The world was suffering because of Kyle. Jack knew, as much as he didn't want to admit, that the key to putting everything back together was through his twin.

And that made him anxious.

Kyle had become so different. He was not the person Jack had grown up with, that Jack loved, talked to, admired. The boy now living in the room across the landing from him was a complete stranger. Someone Jack didn't recognize, despite the fact that they looked exactly the same. If they'd been night and day before, they were absolute dark and light, now. Because night contained stars and moon, day contained shadow. Each had some balance, though they were different entities. Kyle certainly held no balance. He was all pure negativity; he was lost. And Jack wasn't sure where he fit in. He didn't feel balanced, that was for certain.

Jack sighed. He rubbed his eyes, though they were closed. He was so tired of his circling thoughts. It was as if they chased each other over and over, made no real progress, answered no questions. Just kept opening new nerves of frustration and panic. Put him more and more on edge. And there was no getting away from them. He was locked in his head, particularly during the night, when there was nothing to distract him. Just him and the whispering and the black-cat shadow that had taken a liking to his room and the never-ending thoughts that were sounding more and more like commands or reproaches. He could hardly recognize the voice in his head, anymore. It no longer sounded like himself. More like a skipping track of a voice he didn't know. Sometimes, he wondered if he was really thinking his thoughts or if it was someone who had somehow invaded his head. Someone he didn't know or understand, like Kyle. He was just tired. So, so tired, yet no sleep would come.

He sat up with a sigh. Opened his eyes. It was dark in his room, in the entire house. He knew everyone was asleep, and that unsettled him. When everyone in the house was sleeping, it was as if they were unreachable. They were lost in dreams, and if something happened, Jack would be unable to shake them out of their sleep. He hated knowing everyone but him was off in their silent, dark, soft worlds. Hated being the only one aware and awake. The only one alive to familiarize himself with the strangeness of the night.

He spotted the black-cat shadow crouched by his door. Shook his head at it. It hadn't tried anything since the night before, when his father had come home. It had stayed in the corner of whatever room in the house Jack had wandered into. He'd in fact quite forgotten about it until now . . .

His eyes focused on it. He was disturbed at the fact that it didn't shift or flicker. It stayed where it was, but, just as the night before, he couldn't quite figure out what it looked like. It was as if he was staring at it through a murky liquid. Not the area surrounding it, though—just the shadow itself. Jack could tell that something was going on with it. It had grown bolder, and it wasn't afraid of him. How much would this comfort progress? Would the shadow try again to communicate with him? Would it try to . . . to touch him? No. He couldn't believe it would go so far as to do that. The thought that it just might shook him up, though.

Maybe he wasn't supposed to wait for it. Maybe he felt that pulling deep inside him because he was supposed to be the one to make the next move. The thing had tried, but Jack had gotten distracted. So maybe now it was his turn.

It obviously wasn't leaving. He couldn't just wish it away. Perhaps, for as creeped out as it made him feel, the thing was more important than he'd been willing to believe. Maybe he should ask Miss Collins about it . . .

But there just wasn't time.

Swinging his legs around to the edge of his mattress, Jack slid off his bed. His feet touched the floor and the cold boards sent shivers up his legs and spine. His body trembled. Why was it so cold, all of a sudden?

He turned toward the shadow; it was still there; it hadn't moved an inch. Staring hard at the thing, Jack got the uncanny sense that it was somehow watching him . . . or not watching, exactly—more as if it was summing him up. Taking him in. Regarding him. And that was more bizarre to Jack than the feeling that it could actually see him with some sort of eyes. It was like the shadow had other senses—ones inhuman. Or even unknown to animals.

Shaking his head again, he tried not to think about the shadow's perceptibility. It was too beyond his reasoning. Slowly, ever so quietly so as not to make the floor creak, Jack stepped toward the shadow. He kept his eyes glued to it with each cautious step, ready for it to suddenly dart away or lunge at him. He held his hands out in front, as if ready to fend the thing off if it did happen to come his way, even though in the back of his mind he knew that this thing was not physical enough to stop with his bare hands.

He wasn't sure, even, what he intended on doing once he reached the thing. Had no real idea what he was going to do. But there seemed to be, as he drew nearer the shadow, something pulling him toward it—some invisible hand drawing, beckoning—and he knew there was no stopping now.

Closer . . . closer . . . until he was mere inches away from it . . . and still it did not budge. Didn't flick away, as it had done so many times previously. It was too bold—far too bold—yet Jack felt no fear, now. Strangely, his reservations were melting away, as ice cubes melted in the sun, and all the uneasiness he'd harbored toward this larger, unknown patch of dark watered down to nothing. Instead, his previous fear and resentment were replaced with a curious desire—a desire to know this thing, to understand it. Never before had Jack been so close to something he alone saw. This was a bizarre and fascinating event, and he became suddenly aware that in the process of realizing this, he'd come to a complete stop and was standing motionless before the softly wavering shadow.

It hovered, directly visible and yet impossible to focus on, right before Jack. The boy felt a sudden knowledge arise from deep within him: this thing, whatever it was, had been waiting for him. Now, right now, he was meant to discover it.

He reached out a trembling hand, slowly, slowly, and the world seemed to stop spinning. Stop its constant motion. The whispering ceased all around, and Jack felt the deafening silence as if a wool blanket had been wrapped around him. His head swam with a sudden heaviness. His feet felt leaden. All he knew was that his hand was moving forward. Forward. Closer . . . and then . . .

And then . . .?

His fingertips brushed the outer layers of the shadow. He wouldn't have known it, except for the sensation that flowed through them and all the way up his arm. As if . . . as if some cool breath from beyond had lapped across his skin, causing the nerve endings to tingle with some feeling he'd never experienced, like they were swelling with a chilly warmth. Fascinated, thinking only of the sensation in his fingers, Jack reached deeper into the shadow. And as he did so, the feeling in his arm spread throughout his body. The breath became stronger yet lighter. Now, it was more as if a soft, fine, cool sand was being poured over his hand and up to his elbow. Jack had never experienced anything like it. Any feeling so utterly fascinating. And for a moment or so, he hardly remembered he was in his bedroom, at night, in his dark house, with the weight of the world upon his shoulders.

But then he recalled.

And he yanked his arm out of the shadow. Stumbled back a step, stood trembling, staring at it.

The thing didn't move. Didn't do anything except continue to waver and pulse slightly against the wall. Just a hole in time and space. In his bedroom. Watching him.

Jack's breathing was very loud. He noticed that he was rubbing his hands together as if trying to regain the sensation he'd just felt in them, but that feeling had vanished as soon as he'd withdrawn.

This was something he hadn't expected. Something bizarre. But also something right. In fact, every part of him was certain that this shadow was no negative force at all, as he'd formerly believed. This was, in whatever way, perhaps the key to everything he'd been mulling over so deeply for the past days, and it had been here, in the house, all this time. He wasn't sure what exactly to do with this thing, but Jack understood, now, that this shadow was there for him.