He'd never noticed that door before. But, he knew that what was inside the door determined life or death. He breathed in the cold air of that winter day and knew that the run down building could not afford proper heating. He never settled down anywhere and always carried a heavy blue jacket that his father gave him for Christmas a couple years back before the fire. Who knew that his entire life could be changed in as little as 30 minutes? The event still haunts his memories daily.
"Ian!" his mother shouted, he shook as he arose from his slumber. It was hotter than usual and took him a moment to figure out why. His view of red quickly faded to black as he felt the side of my head come in close proximity to the floor. He woke up and eyebrows furrowed as he pondered about where he was. When he looked up he saw a bright wall and looked down to see he was in a bed that wasn't his own. He shuddered as he felt a cold hand on his shoulder. His neck snapped to look at the person who touched him as he groped his neck in pain. "Don't put too much pressure on your neck", the doctor informed Ian. "What...what happen?" Ian asked. Hesitantly the doctor responded,"Umm." He cleared his throat before continuing. "There was a fire. We don't know how it began, but a piece of glass landed in your neck". "It was a miracle you made it...but I'm sorry ...your parents didn't".'
Tears welled in his eyes and blurred his image. He tried to choke back sobs but they came anyway. The bleached hospital walls were closing in engulfing his soul piece by piece. He was lost, how was he supposed to absorb this newfound information." Run". He heard the words in his father's voice. "Run far far away", he heard again but this time louder in his mother's voice. He always did what he was told so he ran." Faster!" He heard his mother and father's voice, this time in unison. Almost reaching the door he had a familiar feeling as his vision turned fuzzy and his head met the tile floor.
He woke up in the same bed and room. Déjà vu he thought before the memories from last night crawled in his mind. He cringed at the memories and pain that invaded his mind and heart. "RUN!" He heard again as he got up to run the doc came in. "Not so fast" he said sternly but playfully. He sat back in bed and stayed in the doctor's office for two more weeks. His scar still had pain, but was almost fully recovered. They tried to put him in a foster home, telling him he had no living relatives, but he knew it wasn't possible. He remembered a tall skinny woman who he called "Auntie" as a child, she was young and he knew she wasn't dead. So, he ran, but felt weaker than usual. He was seeking to find his aunt, but found something better. He stopped in front of an old house he was well accustomed to. It had vines growing out of the sides, paint peeling off in spots, a sideways chimney, and sickly green weeds leading up to the path of his old home. Somehow his parents made this house seem so clean and friendly, but their absence almost made the house look frightening.
Without any thought, he abruptly ran to the door, but it was locked. He wondered if his parents still kept a spare key under the mat. He checked and luckily the rusted old key was still intact. He slid the key in and unlocked the door. He stepped in and memories filled his mind, both pleasant and unpleasant filled his mind. For each painful memory, he made a single slit on his wrist. As if cutting took away the emotional pain while adding to the physical. He thought of it as a small toll he had to pay for pleasure. He walked throughout his house making stops at each room. It was as if he was looking for something, something that didn't make him as lonely as he felt.
That's when he saw it, a door. A door he never even noticed in all his years of living in that house. He determined that whatever was in this door would determine whether or not he would continue to live, he wanted so desperately to be reunited with his parents. If he wasn't satisfied with what he found in the room he promised himself he would end his life. He hesitantly twisted
P the door knob and pushed the door open. He turned on the light and was stunned at what he saw. In fact, he was so astonished that he dropped the knife he
was once holding and collapsed on the floor crying. This room was like a scrapbook of all the times he shared with his family and friends. Pictures scattered all across the walls. Laying on a small shelf was a letter. Once he found the strength to open it, he cried even more at what was enclosed. "We love you -Your parents "it read.
