It's been years since I've been in here, years since I had dreamt within these four walls, years since I had come here to escape the wrath of my Father. But here I am and it seems as though I have never left. The cobwebs have not added age, but character. The spiders; old demons of my youth are as much a part of the room as the ceiling. The desiccated husks of countless flies; a detail within the cascade of cack that literally has this room bursting from its shoddy, cement seams. Life. Ordinary life. This is what the room had breathed and would still breathe if given half a chance. Countless files and papers are stacked upon commodes and desks. A bed is shoved in between two precarious piles of onions and leeks. Faded wallpaper can be seen under the countless layers of muck and grime. Wallpaper with cars on. This had been my bedroom. It had been a storage space for my parents. It was a storage room for me. It was where I had spent most of my childhood, locked away on my own. I didn't mind, for this was the place where it happened. It was the first time Father had spoken to me. I had been scared at first, scared for no reason. This was my Father, I had nothing to fear from such an infinite being. The voice had been soft and kind, loving even. Gradually I came to love Father more then anyone. More than my parents, who treated me as if I was no more then a pile of dog s**t they had just walked in. I avoided them entirely and stayed as much in my room as I could, hiding in my forts and talking to Father. It was when I hit my sixteenth birthday that Father told me to do something. My adoration was never ending. Father had brought me up with all the love and affection that any person could give to their son. I owed him. So I did as he asked and never had doubts about it. I still don't have doubts about it. Now, four years on, here I was again, owner of the whole house, not just my little bedroom. Surely this was the providence of Father. The house was now mine because Mother couldn't live without Father; she died in her sleep, with a pillow over her face. Father told me she couldn't live without Father; I was just putting her out of her misery. I like to picture my parents sitting beside Father up in the Kingdom of Heaven. Though they never loved me in this life, they will in the next. Father told me so. | 
