He walked up to the door and grabbed the cold handle. He twisted and pulled the door inward. In front of him was something he couldn't believe. He took a step back and focused on the implausible, disturbing image in front of him. There, on the other side of the door, was only brick. A brick wall, standing in his path to freedom. He opened the curtains to the window to the right. There was no serene view to behold - only more brick. William turned around and headed into the kitchen, his stomach beginning to turn at the thought of being trapped even when finally free of the room.

Another door stood beside the fridge in the kitchen to his left. He quickly made his way to the door and opened it. An old wooden staircase leading down to who knows where. He looked at the fridge and imagined what it might contain. Yet, after a glance inside, he realized no pizza or ale was awaiting him within. He had no choice but to continue. William crept down the stairs until he made it to a cold, concrete floor. A light was shining around the corner and he carefully made his way to the light.

As he walked, not a sound could be heard but the soft footsteps beneath his bare feet. The light he had seen was a lantern that hung against the wall about three feet from another door. He walked up to it, closed his eyes during a deep and nervous breath, and firmly gripped the knob with his clammy hand. As he twisted the knob, he heard a familiar voice behind him.

"Go on. Open it."

William opened his eyes and let go of the door. He turned around, frightened. He immediately swung forward with the nail, failing to make any contact. He stepped back, gazing towards the dimly lit hall. The light revealed his roughened face well enough. Father stood before William; the old lines of an aging man accentuated by the warm lantern glow.

"William, my boy," said Father with a scratchy, low voice, "finally trying to come out of your room and see the world, huh?"

"I'm not your boy." Said William, tight-lipped.

Father laughed, "You're no one's boy. You've never been. I've never been."

"I was. I belonged to somebody," replied William.

"How would you know that?" said Father.

"It's obvious," said William.

"Obvious..." Father let out a few unhealthy coughs, "nothing is obvious, William. If it were, you'd know why you're here."

"Why am I here?" asked William, squinting his eyes in confusion.

"That's the same question you've had for so long, now. After all these years, you still haven't found an answer to it?"

"I'd rather get the fuck out of here, first." William thought.

Drops of liquid could be heard dripping onto the floor around them. William stepped further back into the door frame.

"Am I here just to rot in that room? Because, so far, the only answer to that question has been that. To rot." Said William.

Father looked at him curiously, almost surprised at William's threatening tone.

"That room keeps you safe, boy." He said.

"Not from you."

"No. Safe from everything else." Said Father.

"I wouldn't be down here if I wanted to be safe. I'd rather you kill me than go back to that room."

"Oh, but if I killed you then you'd never get your answer. What's the point in that?"

He placed his hand on the wall and leaned in as if propping himself up and bracing for what was to come.

"Do you remember the time a bird landed on your window? You were quite young, but you must remember. Whenever I look at that window, I can't help but think of it. We just finished eating breakfast. You looked so happy to see it. So... in awe. It was a bright, beautiful red. Almost the same as that rug you have. It looked at you too, didn't it? It must have wondered what you were."

"It was a stupid fucking bird. It landed and left. That's it." Said William.

"You'd never really seen a bird before then," Father continued, "and you probably haven't seen one since. I remember you asked me, 'what was that Father?'"

"A flying red." Said William.

"A flying red. Yes. You must have drawn that thing a million times. You used to tell me that you'd be a flying red one day. But here we are. Still inside. Still just the same." He said.

"You're not the same at all. You're sick."

"You know nothing about sick! You spent so long in that room, you walk down some stairs and you think you'll just fly away from here? Well, there's no flying here, boy. Not for anyone." He said.

"Someone lives here, don't they? In the room behind me." Asked William.

"Open the door," said Father, quietly.

Silence sat between them as William thought about what to do. Ten seconds were, at that moment, a thousand years. William turned around and placed his hand on the doorknob. He kept his head cocked to the side, keeping Father in his peripheral.

"You won't need the nail," said Father behind him.

"I might," replied William as he twisted the knob. He felt the click of an opening door and the creak of one that had remained unoiled in its hinges for eons.

The door he opened revealed a room, similar to the one he had just escaped. A foul smell permeated through the doorway and attacked William like a raging bull. He noticed the faint sound of Father's footsteps coming closer and he quickly tried to turn. Before he could flail his tiny weapon, he had already been pushed against his back, further into the room. Almost certain of his entrapment, William let out a short yell, twisting his body in the opposite direction in hopes of reaching the exit before it closed on him. There was no entrapment. No Father was standing against the faint glow of the lantern within the blackness of the hallway. Only an open door and absolute silence.

William stood there with his heart out of his chest, adrenaline rushing through him. After some heavy breathing came to pass, he looked around the room and noticed a bucket by the door. He took a step towards it and could feel the sensation of a shaggy carpet beneath his feet. He quickly turned and tried to make out the rest of what lay before him in the dark. The glow of the lantern barely reached the end of a bed which donned a pair of white sheets. He knew where he was, and it shot a jolt of dread through his spine and into his body.

He walked over to the end of the bed. He looked down at the corner of it where the light shined. Something was under the sheets, creating a bulge upward with the distinct shape of a foot. William stepped back from the bed and his breathing became heavy once again. The hideous smell was strong and became stronger the closer he was to it. A bead of sweat dribbled down his forehead. Terrible thoughts came over him. A sense of impending doom and the inescapable wrenching of his gut were both telling him of the death before him and of himself soon being dead.

The mind of William, much like the mind of anyone who would be faced with a hellish realization such as that, became that of a soul which had exited his body and floated ten feet above him, witnessing the horror from the outside. In that moment, he might as well have already died. Once he had witnessed the frightening moment of life from outside of himself, William could never be the same from within.

His soul crushed back into his body and mind, and he let in an audible and almost screeching breath as if he had just been forcibly held underwater. He knew at that moment, amid total despair, that dying was only his last option. He darted for the lantern which hung against the wall. He could barely reach it and he propped himself onto his toes and gripped the bottom. Shifting it up and down and towards himself away from the hook, it finally came loose and dropped into a steady hand. He gripped the lantern, nail in his waistband, and walked back into the room. He walked past the bed with no intention to investigate it.

The room was nearly identical to his own. He looked around for anything that could help him, knowing full well that it was highly unlikely. If this was like the room before then there would be nothing of value; nothing that could save him. He held the lantern above his head, looking the same direction that his window would have been. Nothing but a brick wall. He shined the lantern on the adjacent wall above the desk and then to the other two. Still, there was nothing. William stood, pondering about the life which had been unfolding beneath his own. Had someone been right below him the whole time? After a moment, something clicked in his mind. He took the lantern and held it above his head once again, lighting up the ceiling.