Chilly wind, better than frostbite gaining temperatures, and heavy, sloppy snow to the side, he was all too happy to be where he was; after teleporting in, then taking in his surroundings, he turned to look at the apartment that he had appeared before. The address that was on one of the papers, that was in the manila envelope, that was in his jean bag, had said 14235 Forest Hill Dr., Green River, Wyoming—after staring at this address, memorizing it for the feat that had yet to be done, he had placed it back in the envelope and then teleported to where his new station was.

There was around three feet of snow underfoot; not only was it nice and sloppy on the top but it was also very compact and frozen on the bottom—this made progress towards the housing difficult for a few seconds. He slipped and slid for all of two or three feet before finally finding the intelligence needed to traverse such terrain; once he had a steady set of legs and feet under him, and was a little more on the balanced side, he went towards the four steps that made up the housing's front porch. The wind, which had dropped to being slight after his appearance in the area occurred, grew fierce right when he reached the first of the porch's four steps. His hoodie was blown back for all of five seconds, and his body shook violently, before the decision to turn away from the wind was made—he could chance a few second reprieve from going to the house, and in knocking on its door, and in seeing the people that he was there to see for the first time in nearly four hundred years; with nothing to prevent him from living here, or from taking his place among the ones that lived here, he could let the weather slow him down a bit.

"Knock your feet against the bottom board of the porch railing—while she, and they, will be thrilled to see you again she, and they, won't be but so happy over seeing the snow that your feet will be bringing in." the little voice in his mind said.

Once at the porch's top, he kicked his boots against the bottom board of the railing; once all of the snow was free from his boots, and once the laces that were on his boots were loosened, he went towards the front door. The only adult of the residence, along with being overjoyed in seeing him again, would probably rush him out of his boots, and socks, and then into the kitchen for something hot to eat and then drink—even though the boots that he was wearing were of the heavy-duty sort they were old and there was a hole in the bottom sole of the right one; he would want to be out of them, and his cold, and wet, socks, as soon as possible. His body was wracked in another fierce shiver right when he reached the door; with his bag dangling from his right shoulder, and with the hand that was attached to the arm that went to that shoulder clutching the single strap that was on the bag tightly, he reached forward to knock on the door.

Knock, knock.

He waited; memories of the ones who he was there to see flooded his mind while he did so. The people who lived in this residence were better than fine; not only had he been raised among the sons of the only adult who lived in the apartment a few times but he revered each and every one of them favoribly. He, for a long time now, had regarded the family that lived in this housing as his true family and he was more than glad to now have the distinct pleasure of possibly becoming a full part of them.

"The people of Europe would be jealous over seeing this much snow." he thought.

Yes indeedy would they! All of that white stuff would just turn their eyes green with envy, and cause their mouths to curl up and their noses to flare; the people of Europe had said nothing adverse about the drought, which had started five years ago, then they had started whining after it was all sunshine, or cloudy, and cold without a single flake of snow being seen to be falling. He, as of the last five years, had been taking advantage of there being no snow to hinder the activities that he had been forced to do by his former wards. While the given chores were many, and much the same, he hadn't had to worry about where he was to put his feet or about how slick one surface was from another—in a way, the five-year snow-drought had caused him to all but forget how dangerous it was when one walks freely in snow like that of what was on the ground in his present location; he made a mental note right then and there to remember all of what he had learned by trial and error during his days with his torturing ex-families.

Knock, knock.

He had waited just a single minute before knocking again; a pang of fear struck him after his knuckles struck the wood of the housing's front door—what if one or more were sick, or if they were all sleeping? Regardless of their not seeing him in nearly four hundred years, they would not be pleased over his repeated, fast succession door knocks—he best just stand and wait for one of the housing's dwellers to come answer the door.

What could they be doing inside? It seemed so quiet outside... the apartment, with its dark cream paint being frosted over in places, and with some of the brown-painted shudders and exterior window sills having icicles on them, looked quite dark and shut-up from the outside... Could everyone be sleeping? Could one or more of them of gotten sick from the current weather; the only adult in the housing might just of made the decision to let everyone over-sleep so not to bother the one, or ones, that were feeling poorly. He had seen that the living room windows, and the one window that, he presumed, belonged to the kitchen, were closed; the light blue drapes, that were placed before the living room windows, and the regal blue, pin-tuck drape, that was before the one window that he presumed was in the kitchen, were drawn—this, he knew by instinct, would only be done when the ones who lived in the housing weren't at home or were asleep.

If they were up and about, what were they doing? Could the only adult in the housing be whipping up several cups of hot cocoa or tea, or making something hot to eat; what were her sons doing? Were there game consoles, with compatible games, in the housing, or were there board games or card games in the housing? Maybe one of the adult's sons was getting ready to play a game of Gin rummy with one of his bruders; if a game system was in the housing, and if it had more than enough games to it, then one or more of the adult's sons could be playing that. If there were magazines in the housing, they might well be reading or looking at them. Maybe they were all just seated before the housing's tv—watching the news, or some program, while staying warm.

"Could there be no power on to the neighborhood?" he thought.

After giving it a good consideration about knocking again, he turned then gave the area that he was to live in a better looking over. At first glance, it looked like a better than fine neighborhood. There were apartments here and there but there was also enough space to breathe; the yard that his new station was on, while looking hilly in some areas, wasn't a consistent steep slope; and it looked like the area wasn't traffic-busy. When he looked at the other housings that were in the area he was astonished to learn that each was lit up. The lights on the front porches were all on, the drapes before the windows were drawn, and there were humans walking around either inside or outside of each dwelling. One of the humans was doing a chore that he had been given to do on each winter season—or, at least until five years ago. This human was shoveling the driveway; he was all bundled up for the weather and, from what he was able to hear, he was talking to someone. It took him all but a second to notice that this human had one of them hands-free cellular phones connected to his ear—the human was shoveling the driveway while speaking on the phone.

"Okay... so the neighborhood has power. So what; maybe one or more of them is listening to some music and wasn't able to hear the door being knocked on."

After taking in the driveway shoveling human he turned then knocked on the door a little louder; not only did he grow colder but he was gripped in a feeling that he didn't much like after doing so. His glove-less hand shook after it collided with the cold wood of the door and his well-muscled body became pocked as the not-liked feeling swept over him. When his hoodie was blown free of his head, he was both fast and slow in grabbing and then throwing it over the part of his body that he didn't want to be exposed—either to the elements or to the out and about humans. Once the hoodie was back to being where it was suppose to be, and once his hand was back to being at his side, he started shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Nearly five minutes had fallen since his arrival to the residence and since his first knock on the door occurred; what could they be doing?

"Wind's really howling out here, maybe they can't hear the door being knocked on because of that?" he thought aloud.

This thought was strong but so, too, was the one of the family that lived in the residence leaving after some unknown event happened that caused them to be evicted from their home. Maybe a tree had fallen, and then taken some of the apartment down, or they might well of gotten "cold feet" because of the weather and decided to go somewhere else before decent or halfway decent weather returned or—

"A sort of message would of been left for you if either of them two things had happened." the little voice inside him said.

"Really? Would they really leave me a message to hook-up with them at some other place?" he asked the little voice.

"Come on—you know these people! They would never abandon you. Knock again then, if no one answers, try the door to see if its unlocked. If it is, go on in and then make yourself comfortable. If not, then check around some. Look for a note of some sort or ask one of the hu—"

"No,"

There was no way in hell that he'd be strolling up to one of the area's humans and then asking if they knew where his new family was; to him, there was really no good or halfway decent human—they were all the same... they were all money-grabbing, jealous, abusing, and violent. He wanted no part of them; while his new mum was human-ish she was also the only real decent human out there. To him, his new mum was everything that the ordinary humans were not—kind, sweet, nurturing, understanding, and patient, that was her.

"Three hundred and eighty years is a long time... maybe she's changed. Instead of being that she decided to become like all of the other hu—"

"On the other times that you showed up at her place she was non-different." the little voice inside him said.

For a brief moment, he panicked. He charged down the four steps of the residence's front porch, then he fell to his rump twice after stepping on the ice that was under the snow, then he ran to nearly the street before stopping and then turning back around. The apartment was taken in a little more now.

The mailbox, which was one of them green metal types, had the numbers 1-4-2-3-5 on it; there was a sign just down the road that had the words Forest Hill Dr. on it; and he knew he was in Green River, Wyoming. When he looked at the driveway, he saw that it was empty; was a car owned by the family that was said to be living in the apartment? The last time that he had been raised by the adult who's said to be living in the apartment she hadn't had a car; she had just gotten around by foot or by teleportation. He gave the apartment a good, long stare—the paint on the outside to the side, it looked like one of them old apartments that were located in the state of New York. The papers that he had hadn't mentioned where the apartment had been gained; they had just listed the address, and the ones who lived in the housing... a number had been listed but he hadn't thought about dialing it—with no money on-hand, he wouldn't of been able to do so anyways.

The housing was dark and a bit creepy; in a lot of ways, it reminded him of some of the stuff that he had managed to sneak-read of H.P. Lovecraft's. He looked at the dark housing, and he listened to the one human as he shoveled the drive and spoke in his near-quiet tone of voice to whoever it was that had rang him up, for a few minutes before returning to the porch; the little voice had said for him to try the door if his attempts in gaining his new family's attention by the old fashioned way didn't work and he was about to do so. Once on the porch, he sighed deeply then reached forward. His hand wrapped around the cold metal of the door knob then, with a single twist, twisted it; quite surprisingly, the door was unlocked—a sudden gust of wind was what caused it to be blown right open. He rushed into the housing, then slammed the door shut, then turned around—the idea of his walking into a trap came to his mind for only a second before he discarded it.

"Hello?" he said. There was a panel to the left of the door; he slapped one of the switches that were on it then he blinked his eyes after the hallway was lit up.

It was cold in here! It almost felt like no one had ever lived here, which scared him a bit. After staring down the hallway, at the carpeted stairs that led up to the apartment's second level, he breathed a shaky breath then started on his way towards the first room that opened up on the hallway. He was expecting to turn and then see a different family, all huddled together, looking scared almost out of their wits end about there being a probable intruder to their abode; he envisioned the man of the house standing, then shouting at him, then drawing some sort of weapon and then charging at him for only a second before the rational side of his brain kicked in. The address on the piece of paper had said that this was where his new family resided—his new family consisted of a single, adult woman and her four, mid-teenage sons... it didn't consist of a "battle"-hardened man, his too-fat wife, and their conceited twin daughters. His new family would welcome him warmly; no shouting for him to get the hell out, no promises of the law being sicked on him, no broom, or other weapon, would be taken to him, and he wouldn't be running for his life.

What he saw, after turning, and then taking the room that he had walked towards in, wasn't what he had envisioned or figured to find. There was a sleeper sofa placed before a coffee table; a Laz-Y-Boy recliner was to one end of the coffee table while, close to the wall, across from the table's other end, sat one of them old, plug-in radiator heaters. The tv was sitting on an entertainment center. That was all that was in the room; there were no recreational things in the room at all. The entertainment center looked to of had some stuff on it—there were square or rectangular places that were surrounded by dust on the piece—but it was just as bare as could be.

The bag that he had on him was placed on the room's coffee table right when he was taking notice of the one thing that looked off in the room—there were two or three areas on the walls where it looked like blood had been splashed at. He gave each section of blood splatter a long stare before moving on to the residence's other rooms—to his recollection, none of the ones that he was to live with, and call his family, had greenish colored blood; his new bruders, while not having the normal, red blood of a human, didn't have plain green-colored blood.

"Dark, creepy housing and blood on the walls... almost like I'm stepping into the scene of a possible kidnap or murder." he thought as he went into the kitchen.

The kitchen, which he should of gotten a warm, toasty feeling from, was just as cold and uninviting as could be; everything that was suppose to be in the room was in the room... everything but his new family, that was. When he went down the one hallway that came off the kitchen, he was stricken with automatic fear—the walls of any hallway would be decorated with framed photographs... this one was just as bare as could be. Had the one hallway that he had started off as being on been just as bare too? To his recollection, he did believe that he hadn't seen anything on the hallway that ran off the front door.

The doors to each of the rooms that were on the hallway were open; he was fast in cocking his head to the side when he looked into the first of the hallway's open-doored rooms. The bathroom that he came upon was very normal—it had one of them old, pedestal sinks, that was a faded "white" color; a very light blue bathtub and toilet; and cabinets for medicinal things or things that would normally be found in a bathroom in it but... but there was something very wrong about the floor. The tile floor, which was very faded and old-looking, was ripped up just before the sink. He took in the floor's ripped up state for all of a second before moving on—thoughts of why the floor was ripped up in the bathroom were thought for all of a second before the shock from his taking in the appearance of what he thought was the downstairs bedroom set in on him.

"Someone was here..." he thought as he walked into the room.

That was a fact! Like with the living room, he could see where things had recently been placed—the squares that were on the two dressers' surfaces had dust around their edges and so did the squares and rectangles that were on the room's one bookcase. There was a "hint" on the walls of things having, at one time, been on them—the "darker" areas that lay around the "lighter" ones were good indictators of there being, at one time, something on them. While the beds were made up all nice and neat they were much like the kitchen: cold and uninviting. He wasted no time in getting out of the room after going into it.

The cold, he discovered a few minutes later, was coming from the residence's back door being wide open; there looked to be an area where someone had crashed into it, and the strike plate was very unstable. Upon going outside, he saw another area where a splash of greenish colored blood was. He placed his hand on this very dried up, and frozen, blood then, after noting that it, again, didn't belong to one of his new family members, he stood up then went back to the apartment; the door was promptly shut behind him.

Things, as far as he was concerned, went downhill and fast after he checked the state of the other rooms. Fear wrapped itself around him as he found the upstairs bedroom to be in the exact same shape as that of the downstairs bedroom; the downstairs closet had some things in it while the upstairs closet was completely naked... the upstairs bathroom looked relatively normal and furnished in comparison to the downstairs one. He was fast in checking the upstairs bedroom then, like a raging bullet, he charged down to the kitchen, where he was fast in finding the final room that he had yet to check. Only after checking this room did the many scenarios of what he had happened upon start tallying away.

"Blood in the living room, and on the concrete slab that's up against the apartment's back... maybe someone uninvited came in and then got hurt and, maybe, that person has my new family." that was the first scenario that he thought of.

"Maybe one of my new bruders had an accident and got hysterical over it." this second scenario said. "While coming in, he splashed blood across the concrete slab that's up against the apartment's back, then on the living room walls; one of the older bruders saw him, or mum saw him, then ushered him to the hospital, where they could all be now."

"A sort of welcome-to-the-family test is being given to me... a bunch of bugs, or packets, of green liquid were bought and then squashed, or splashed, on the walls, and on the concrete slab, then the family ran off after setting the scene of what I'd see after getting here." this was the third scenario that he thought of.

"Instead of being frank in filling out my new forms, and wanting to have me as a family member, my new mum just filled out the forms as a sort of joke then, after hearing that her joke was being taken seriously, she packed up the family then moved somewhere else so she wouldn't have to worry about taking my sorry ass on as a son." as much as it saddened him, this was the fourth scenario that he thought of.

He did a pacing session in the living room before deciding to leave the apartment; the human that was still shoveling the snow from his driveway, but who had since concluded his cellular phone conversation, was approached. In his hysterical state, he didn't just ask the man if he had seen his family. He grabbed this poor man, who stood around five foot eleven, and who had to weigh around a hundred and seventy pounds, then he gave him two shakes before asking where are they. This poor human screamed, then held the Crucifix that hung around his neck up at him, before being released; he trudged back to the apartment in a daze afterwards.

"You're here but they're not. There's blood on the walls, and on the concrete slab that's against the building's back, and there's places where certain things use to be present on..." his mind ran away on him after he re-entered the apartment. "You're all alone—"

"They wouldn't just up and leave me like this." he said aloud.

"You sure of that? Three hundred and eighty years is a long time—people do change, you know." his conscious said.

"They wouldn't abandon me." he said strongly.

"Look around you! Either something happened here or they made a swift getaway after hearing that your adoption was pushed through." his conscious screamed at him.

"They're somewhere... They just... I came here at the wrong time and—"

"They've abandoned you, that's what happened."

"Nooooo!" he bellowed, then started speaking as if they were actually in the apartment with him. "Prove the voice wrong! Please don't tell me that you've abandoned me like everyone else has!" his hands became woven in the fabric of the remnants of his blue hoodie for only a second before dropping to become wrapped around the biceps of his arms. He started rambling like a crazy person after his hands were wrapped around his biceps. "You're the only ones who've stuck by me! Where are you? What have I done to make you run off? Hello? Hello? Anyone in the apartment? Helllooooo!"