A relentless rain pattered against the roof of the shelter. As the sporadic lightning flashed, the forest’s trees were illuminated as the storm’s ruthless energy blew them back and forth. Huddled in the makeshift shelter, a stoic Edward sat, gazing out at the fury of mother nature.
His face bore many superficial gashes from tree limbs and the dirt of the forest had stuck to this sweaty skin like tar.
The door had always been just imperceptibly out of Ryan’s reach as a toddler. His seemingly ingenious methods of trying to grasp the knob ended up being futile. Ryan didn’t hate his room; he loved his father. And dad was always on the other side of the door.
As Ryan grew into a young man and gained the stature required to come and go as he pleased, the boy elected to stay in the confines of his room. There, he was safe from th...