Of course, Oleg did not simply maintain a lonesome vigil - he called Chloe's dad to let him know what had happened. It was not easy telling the man what had happened to his daughter, and he got the impression the police had already spoken to him from the course of conversation. Oleg did not envy the officer who had made the call, and Oleg did not relish it either. Who ever wanted to tell someone their flesh and blood had been violated?<br/><br/>Oleg's sleep was fitful and uneasy when it did come at long last. He was surprised that no one came to tell him to go home. But it did not happen. When he sat down on the couch in Chloe's room, Oleg had not intended on falling asleep, but it had happened - the exposure to green meteor rock and the effort required to destroy it had sapped him more extensively than he had known. Perhaps if he had taken time to bask in the rays of Earth's yellow sun he may have been somewhat rejuvenated, but he remained indoors and as such away from the rays of the energy-giving star. At some point late into the night he slipped into a troubled sleep. While he slept, he was wracked by nightmares that showed him increasingly gruesome ways Chloe would die, and in each one he was unable to intervene to help her in any way. The feeling of powerlessness was much a source of terror as the morbid scenes that played out, even as they became increasingly implausible and improbable.<br/><br/>When he did awaken, it was in a cold sweat. He felt somewhat better, but still weakened. It did not help that he had not eaten. But he did not want to leave and not be there for Chloe when she awoke. Oleg got up and paced quietly towards the window. It was pre-dawn, and the hour was about when he normally be up anyway. There was always so much work on the farm. He would need to spend a lot of time catching up with what had already been neglected. Hands splayed on the window sill, Oleg leaned down, slumping his shoulders and letting out a long, slow breath. Then he slowly paced back to the couch and wiped his faced with both hands, wiping them on his pants. The sudden feeling came over him that he did not belong, that he had no place being here. If he had not called Layla, Chloe would not have returned to the school. If he had not called, she would not have been there for that to happen to her. The thoughts of love he had harboured seemed so wrong now. With his culpability in her assault, how could Oleg even think about being anything to her? The guilt hurt almost as badly as the green meteor rock, but unlike the fragments from space, could not be so easily dismissed.