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         I'm sitting here - nothing to do. A little voice telling me to move, but I just can't seem to listen. My ears are working, yet my heart has stopped. The ceiling dims as the light bulb flickers. I'm fixed on a small crack in the ceiling. Eyes blink.
          When they open, I'm no longer in my room. I'm in a dark place. All I can hear are two loud voices crying out - breaking total silence. I finally move. I stumble at first, as if new to gravity. Soon I'm steady again.  I force one leg before the other. I open the door to the room and step over the threshold.
         I follow the voices and find myself in a strange room ...a kitchen, I guess, but as I inspect the surroundings I find no oven, no fridge. Nothing but a counter and a small table in the corner. No sign of life.  The voices that I followed grow distant. I find myself sprinting to keep up with them.
         All of a sudden, I'm outside. The sky is pitch dark. Rain is pouring down upon my head. I hear soft crying as if right behind me. I turn so violently, my foot slips and instantly I'm covered in mud. Nothing is there.
           Out of the corner of my eye, I see a figure running. My heart leaps. I jump up from my muddy seat and trail after it. I turn a corner, sliding more than running, and I find nothing. I run between two hedges. Small, childlike footprints appear before me. While running, a familiar singsong voice echoes through my head. My feet slide as I stop.
         I'm at a playground. No kids, though. Clouds hover overhead. The teeter-totter starts to tilt. Swings start to rock. The friendly, kind giggles of children fill the air intoxicating me, yet I see no one. Tears well in my eyes.  I start to choke on the sweet air. I fall to my knees in the mud. What's happening to me? Am I going crazy? Tears slide down my burning cheeks. I blink.
         When I open my eyes, the park is suddenly filled with beaming, happy children. Kids yelling and laughing, telling rumors of who likes whom and who did what. A boy of six walks up to me.
         He stands right in front of me. I look up at him from the ground. His sand-colored hair covers his sea foam eyes. He looks at me, sadly. His face looks so mature for six, like it had seen the worst of life. It was so familiar - as though I'd seen it 1000 times before.
         A name slips through his lips. My name. How does he know that? He helps me to my feet. When I look up, the boy is gone. He has been replaced with a young teenager. I instantly recognize him. There are matching tearstains on our faces.  His porcelain face is almost the same as the boy's. Same eyes.  His hair is now a startling red. He extends a hand and touches my face. He wipes my tears. I take him in my arms and embrace him. The clouds clear. It seems like a huge sadness is lifted. I am finally here - with the boy. The boy who took his life.