The doctor took the child's small delicate hand, and gently led him out of the room, out of the orphanage, and onto the dirt road. They followed the road for a little ways.
They remained in silence, one in deep though, the other in confusion. Neither were ready to ask or say anything.
Their walk ended when they reached the wooden stairs leading up to the doorstep of a house. The doctor recognized it; the child did not. The back of the house was in the jungle, and there were a few scattered trees in the yard.
Letting go of Chan's hand, the doctor slowly creaked up the wooden planks and pulled out a golden key. He slid its teeth gently into it's correct slot beneath the doornob, turned it, and with a push he let the door croak inwards.
A damp and lonely smell wafted from this house. The doctor left it, and came home to it every day, for he was used to it. It was a reflection of his past, that he left every day, and came back to sadly at the end.
He gestured Chan to follow him in, and he flipped on a switch. The simply light illuminated a living room besides a kitchen. The doctor then turned, and walked down a dim hallway with several doors in it.
He went to the closest room, turned the doornob, and stepped inside. Chan heard the footsteps stop, and a dresser open.
The doctor stared at the little box containing the simple silver key. His heart rate quickened, and every muscle in his body wanted to slam the dresser shut and run away. But he didn't. He forced himself to stand there, and pick up the tiny red box.
He pulled off the lid, and slid the key into the palm of his hand. He felt the cold shiver run down his spine, and he felt a stronger urge to throw the key back. He had done so so many times before; it had become a habit. The doctor clenched his fingers around the silver nightmare into a determined, but shaking fist, and he walked out of his room and to a door far down the hall.
The cobwebs were heavy all around and on the door. The rest of the house was clean. This door had not been touched in years. The doctor blew away the dust on the keyhole, and slid the silver key into place. The door had not been unlocked for four going on five years. It was too painful to have opened it. It would stir up all of the nightmares that had been left to settle.
The doctor placed his hand onto the dusty doorknob, and took a deep breath. Chan watched the doctor as he closed his eyes for a few moments. He breathed heavily and was straining to hold his grip on the door.
Then, with another sudden urge of determination, his eyes shot open, along with the door. Inside, was a child's bedroom.
