Down one flight of stairs, then another, the sounds from above fading even as the air cools … I'm trembling from the cold when we reach a small plat...orm. A thick gate showing a long corridor beyond, there is another behind me, but it's the corridor ahead that I'm watching.The floor is covered, littered, in rubbish, clothes, puddles of water, and about halfway, leaning against the wall, a man lifts his head. Bruised and bloody, one of his eyes is closed, the skin around it black."He?" I. My parents were brother and sister!There! I've said it, but unlike the common insult, I'm neither deformed nor insane. I 'think' my name is Olaf.I grew up in an orphanage after both my parents died when I was three.I had to turn twenty-one before I was allowed to find out they commited suicide!I remember the trauma of losing my new baby sister. It is because of such traumatic circumstances that such a memory can imbed in one's synapses and be retained because most memories by children prior to. More

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