A blue door was the only happiness I had, and it was the only colorful thing in my room my mother had put it there she said it gave the room life.  Everyday I would stare at the door and it became the only thing that kept me sane. Nothing could keep me sane.  Now the door was gone. My mother had finally took it away.  She told me that the shade of blue could harm my eyes.  That same day my mother put a new one in, a black door made out of metal.
My windows are bolted shut, a thick layer of black paint covers them.  No sunlight is able to get past them.   Mother told me that the sun was dangerous for little boys like me.  That was 10 years ago, and I haven’t left this room since.  I look down at my hands, and stare deeply into the lines that god himself had etched into me. God… I'm not sure if he listens to my prayers anymore. God is always watching me, listening, and attempting to save me.
The house creaks and sways.  I look up as dust falls from the roof.  The dust dances around and lands on the floor gracefully.  The dust dances like how I used to.  I listen to the creaks and I feel the warmth of nostalgia entering my body. The creaks remind me of snowy days and the warmth of a fireplace. It reminds me of peaceful days and the days before I was locked in this attic. The house had always creaked and now I listen to those creaks and think about the time before everything changed.
I walk around my room the dirty attic and look at the cracks on the ground, and the scratches on the wall the scratches I made.  I remember when I thought the attic was a fun place.  My mother told me that the attic was the best place in the house.  She would take me up there everyday for hours.  I loved it so much, because I loved her so much. until she tricked me. The house creaks again, and more dust falls.  The wind must be strong today, wind I haven't felt the wind on my face in so long.  689 days.   I sit down on my bed, a cardboard cut out. My bed used to be soft, but mother was sure that beds were dangerous. So was living in an attic.
My mother once told me that beds had dust mites and bugs on them.  I was seven when she took my old bed away my better one. Now she was sure she saw bugs woven into the stitching that was inside my bed.  I shift over, and hear the sound of cardboard my bedding sliding across the floor.  Then I hear
a knock.   I freeze and scrunch up, holding my knees close to my chest.  The metal black door opens and light enters my room.  I feel the light hit my skin and I get goosebumps.
My mother enters the room.  Her presence makes my skin grow cold.  She is engulfed in a flowing river of white. Everything on her is the color of an eggshell.  She wears a gown that swallows her whole with her huge platform heels.  Her hair is in an updo fashion, and she resembles an angel devil in disguise. She walks toward me, and I flinch.
She's going to kill you
She's going to kill you
She's going to kill you
She stares at me. There are tears running down her cheeks. A pearly white smile is painted on her face. “Hello darling,” she whispers.  Her voice is calm, and powerful she knows she's in control. I look into her dark brown eyes and see flickers of distant memories flowing in a cesspool of self hatred and doubt.  Her eyes hold me, and they suffocate me in protection. I'm trapped in a trance, and there's no way for me to get out of it.
“Hello,” I whisper.  The sounds I make with my mouth are always, inaudible when she’s around. She sits down on my bedding and touches my hair. She then strokes it with her long fingers and I cringe as she touches me.  I'm already dead. 
“Fragile, Ive missed you so much.  I think about you daily. I know I don’t visit often I hope you can forgive me,” She sobs.  Fragile.  Fragile.  Fragile.  Noone has said my name in so long.  16 years, I’ve been stuck with her for 16 years.  My home has been this attic for 10 years. 10 years of crying and suffering stained these walls.
“Your hair is soft Fragile… just like your father’s,” She sobs.  Her eyes are wild like a mad women.  Mother never mentions father.  My father had died on the day I was born.  He had just gotten off from work, and was rushing to the hospital in his car when he flipped. He died an hour before my birth.  After his death, my mother became protective, but  I never noticed it until she locked me in this attic.
My thoughts are suddenly interrupted by a chime.  The chime echoes off the attic walls, and my skin tingles.  Time for your poison . Food pellets fall onto an empty tray next to my bedding.  The pellets are about the size of a raisins. 
“It’s time for you to eat Fragile,” she speaks.  Her voice sounds like nails on a chalk board. I grab one of the tiny food pellets and put it in my mouth.  Mother says that food pellets are better than normal food.  She says normal food will make me obese.  I'm going to starve to death.  I look around the room the taste of grainy sand enters my mouth. I begin to cough and that’s when I notice something peculiar. Mother left the black metal door open.  Freedom   The door was never left open.  My heart pounds and my legs shake.  Mother always kept the door locked shut, the only way she could get out was by using a keypad on both sides of the door.  This time she made a mistake, her mistake is my future. 
I look at my mother, she’s watching me. Her shoulders are tensed.  She knows what I'm about to do.   You can escape do it.
Before she can say a word I run toward the door, she chases after me.  She grabs me by the arm. I pull away screaming.  She falls, then she grabs my foot. I kick her off and run out of the door.  Then I close the door on her. I look at the keypad and realize that I don’t know the password . I panic and press my hands firmly against the door.  My mother pushes back and the door snaps open and shut in sequences of quick movements. I look at the keypad and suddenly a thought enters my anxious brain.  I type in my name and the door locks, then I smash the keypad. A loud whirring noise reverberates through the house. my name is a blessing.   “Goodbye mother, I love you,” I whisper.  She shrieks and yells my name over and over. I kiss my palm and lay it gently on the door.  I feel the metal vibrate with each strike she lays upon the door. Tears stream down my face and hit the clean wooden floor.   
I hear screams and shrieks as I leave the attic and my mother behind.
What now?
~~~~
3 years after
  I was dealt the worst cards by life.  But faith saw those cards and give me a chance of freedom.  The world is different now.  Everything is no longer dull like in the attic.  The sky is blue like my old door, but the warmth of freedom envelops my body.  There is no longer a dark attic in my life.  Hope streams from the river of fate, and I was lucky enough to drink from it.