[ WP ] Today , you went into the room your parents told you to never go in .

It was staring at me again. The large square patterns of the door almost seemed to glare at me, peering deep into my curiosity. What could one peek hurt? Besides, I was practically an adult. What could possibly be in there that they claimed, “ I wasn ’ t prepared to see. ” Normally, the door would be locked shut, barring my entrance, but my mother had been in a hurry this morning and neglected to realize she had left the keys to the mysterious room on the counter top. Mistake. They were now passing through my fingers, making a light clang and crunch as I shoved them into the keyhole of the doorknob. I twisted the key, simultaneously pressing my weight against the natural wood finish of the door. It glided easily open, wide enough for me to peer in and observe the surroundings. 
 
 No weird electronic devices beeping and whirring. No cages containing animals of an unknown species or origin. Not even any kinky sex machines or medieval torture devices. Instead, a single, medium sized crib sat in the corner, adorned with painted airplanes and trains. I crept cautiously in, waiting to stumble upon some trap my parents had set in the room for unaware intruders. Nothing. I checked the wall and room for hidden doors that would perhaps allow my access to my parents ’ true intentions for the room. Nothing. I slowly crept towards the crib, kicking up dust that seemed to collect and swirl in the pools of light flooding through the slits of the closed blinds that covered the window. As I approached the crib, I noticed a medium sized picture frame sitting were a baby would normally be peacefully sleeping. 
 
 Picking up the picture frame, I squinted to make out the figure in the portrait. It appeared to be the picture of a child. No, two children. One of which was adjoined to the other near the hips, having no legs of its own but still smiling at the camera. I dropped the picture as my hand reached for my side, the side where a large scar ran up my midsection, the side where my brother used to be. 
 

