The Locked Door

The Locked Door

Im finally heading out into the real world on my own. I'm moving into a small quaint apartment not far from where I grew up. My parents and I drive to my new home with all of my belongings to get me settled in. As we pull up on the street next to the apartment I feel my heart drop. Im I really ready for this? What if I forget to pay my bills? What if something bad happens to my parents since I'm not there to care for them anymore? All these thoughts flooded my head and made me doubt my decision, but I got out of my car and headed towards the apartment door.

It felt like only within seconds I had gotten all of my stuff and my parents were gone. I sat for a little while alone in my apartment and just thought to myself. I soon snapped back to reality and started to unpack the boxes. It felt there were millions of them, and it felt like they took weeks to unpack. Finally, all of my belongings were on shelves, all of my furniture was arranged, and all my thoughts were in order. Just when I thought everything was going well, the unexpected happened.

I had only lived in the cozy apartment a few weeks, when I got a phone call from the police. My heart stopped when she told me the news. My parents had gotten in a car accident and had both passed away. My heart stopped in the middle of her sentence and I didn't want the officer to finish because I knew what he was going to say would change my life forever.  I didn't know what to say, or think, or do. I just sat there for the next three days. Not even thinking, just sitting. Then I realized I need to get myself in order. I had no more family all of my relatives of passed away. The funeral was only in a day or two and I  have done nothing to help plan.

The funeral was the saddest moment of my life. The entire time my head just filled with memories, good and bad. I thought about all the stupid fights we had, and how I argued about everything because i'm stubborn and ornery. I couldn't keep myself from thinking if I would have spent more time with them and told them how much I loved them more things would have been different then they were. My parents and I didn't have the greatest relationship. We fought about everything, and it got the point where we didn't even talk to each other anymore we just screamed and yelled. I was nothing like either of them, complete opposites. But there were times when we would all just sit down and talk and we would all be happy. There was no yelling, or arguing. Just cheerfulness and happiness. Oh how I wish there were more times like that.

My parents left almost everything they owned to me; after all I was an only child. It was a little overwhelming getting all this new stuff and having no use for it, but I didn't have the heart to throw it away. As I was looking at the list of my parents belongings I realized the house I had grown up in was on the list. I was astonished. Why would they leave the house to me, I have no use for it. As I read further down I saw a note. It quoted, “Please don't sell the house- mom and dad”.

I was dumbfounded that my parents would do this. They knew I had my own home and now my own life. What was I to do with the old house? My mind wandered as I thought about what to do. After about an hour of thinking, I decided to sell my apartment and move into the old run-down house. I was not all that happy with decision but all I could think about was my parents and how they would feel if I sold it. The house has been in the family for over a hundred years so they told me. And I knew that even if I had decided to sell it, once the time came, I would never be able to let it go.

After about a month I sold my apartment and moved into my parents house. It was weird being there without anyone. The house was a huge victorian with large rooms, crown molding, fireplaces, and a big grand staircase. I loved the old house, it has always reminded me of something like you would see in a movie. It's been about two months since anyone has been in the home and it was a disaster. Dust covered the entire house and there was clutter everywhere. I decided to clean everything before I started to move in my furniture.

As I was cleaning the upstairs I noticed something. covered by the wallpaper was something that looked like a door handle. I slowly moved towards it curiously. I have always been curious, when I was a little girl I would search every inch of the house. Opening boxes and rooms I knew I didn't belong in but I couldn't help myself. It was like those doors and boxes were calling my name just telling me to see what mysterious things hid in them. I guess that's why I was so surprised to see what looked like to be a door handle because after all those of years exploring I had never seen it before.

I put my hand on the door handle and slowly started moving the dob but it's locked. I was scared yet intrigued. Why would this door be locked and why was it covered up like it was meant to be hinden? My old childish ways were playing tricks on me again, telling me I must find out what hiding behind the closed door. I searched the whole house looking for where the key might be. When finally it dinged on me, the one place dad always hid my presents and I never found them, under the floorboards. I hurried to my parents old bedroom with a screwdriver I found and pried the old wood floor up. I was right, staring me in the eyes was the key. I sprinted to the mystery room and put the key in hoping for good luck. To my surprise it worked, the door opened and what I saw I couldn't believe.-

As I slowly cracked the door opened my eyes widened at what I saw. The room looked like it hasn't been touched for years. It was covered in dust, spider webs, and looked like something from a horror movie. There were photographs of what looked like to be me as child. I never really saw photos of me as a child. Whenever I would ask my mother would get angry or just completely ignore me. The room was filled with old toys, books, and photos. As I'm looking around the room there was one thing that really caught my eye. In the center of the wall was a white vanity. It was beautiful and elegant. I slowly walked towards it in awe. there was a little drawer below the mirror. I opened it and what I saw changed my life forever.

In the drawer were papers written by my parents. What I read couldn't be true. I was reading plans on how they would off my real parents, and take me as their child. I was only two years old when they came through with their devilish plan. Then at the very back of the drawer was a newspaper which stated “family killed in car wreck, no survivors”. I then noticed my real name was not Jenna, but Kate. The people who I thought to be my parents faked a car accident with my real family. I am really from Indiana, not North Carolina. The people who took me moved so no one knew me.   

I was crying, and so many thoughts flooded my head. Who have I been living with all these years? Is this why I never saw any family photos from me as a child? Is this room the reason they didn't want me to sell the house? But then I realized I shouldn't be asking all these questions but should be answering the ones I have always asked. And maybe, just maybe, this is why we never got along.

To be continued...