The Best I Can Do

Memories Behind The Door

Chapter One:

Silver's P.O.V:

I rang the doorbell once. 

Then twice. 

I waited.

Finally, the door opened with a creak. I stepped inside, dragging my suitcase behind me.

I looked around. It was the same as it was the last time I was here. 

My aunt and uncle's house is-- "was" a lot like mine. The wooden stairs led upstairs in front of the front door while to the left of the stairs is the kitchen.

 I heard my aunt crying from the kitchen, so I turned right to go into the living room. 

The big room looked dull just as everything else did. The couch, a dark leather gray with tiny cracks from when my uncle plopped on it every night after dinner. The big screen TV my uncle won for being the hundredth caller on the radio. I imagined him sitting there reaching for the remote and holding a beer in his hand, I remember we used to watch the baseball games. He would get so excited, and I would mimic him even though I didn't know what we were cheering for. I don't even like sports. Not anymore.

I heard the floorboards creak as Aunt Katherine walked into the living room. She gasped, not seeing me standing there until I shifted, uncomfortable by her tear-stained face.

"Erin...I'm sorry. I didn't hear you come in." She quickly wiped away her tears when I looked away from her sad eyes.

She slowly walked towards me, cautious.

"Come here, honey."

I knew what she was expecting. She expected me to collapse into her arms and break down my calm exterior, sobbing uncontrollably for the loss of my parents. 

But I didn't.

I stood completely still as she closed in around me, her soft hands stroking my back soothingly.

"It's okay, sweetie. You can let it out. Everything is going to be okay."

I didn't need it. The comfort. 

I don't want it, nor do I like it. 

I stepped out of her arms just as she started crying again. I gestured to the stairs, and her tears dropped from her eyes as she nodded.

I rolled my suitcase to the bottom of the stairs and looked up at the smooth wooden railing. When I was younger, I used to slide down the railing after they called my cousins and I down for dinner. We visited my aunt and uncle every holiday. Christmas was always the best holiday to come...

I picked up my suitcase and carried it upstairs. I didn't count all 26 stairs like I used to every time I come here. I was going to live here now with all these beautiful memories of my family. 

Three doors were at the top of the stairs. I knew what was on the other side of all of them. 

One was my aunt and uncle's room. Another one was my new room. The last one was a room full of my loss and grief. It was the only room in the house I couldn't bear to enter.

I didn't look at The Door.

I didn't know all of what was behind it. My uncle had mentioned it was a newly put together room of all the important things my mother and father had. All the pictures are in there, covering all four walls. My mother's special artifacts and jewelry are in there, most of the shelves are filled with them. My father's favorite ties and coats are in there. 

I shook my head as I saw that The Door was slightly cracked open. Memories of them were shining brightly through the tiny crack,and I rushed to The Door and slammed it shut.

No.

I straightened when I saw Aunt Katherine at the top of the stairs, staring at me. She was confused. I could almost see the question form on her lips. 

Why didn't you go in there?

She shook her head, deciding not to ask me. I watched her as she walked towards my room. 

My vision blurred from the tears that filled my eyes as I answered her question anyway. 

Because I can't. I can't do it.