I sprinted down the road wondering what had just happened because it was a miracle that I was even alive. Options played over in my head of who saved my life, but all of my answers were unrealistic. I had reached the apartment and fumbled my way through the door while trying to fish for the spare set of keys, mother had given me, out of my pocket. Finally, I had retrieved them, but my stick, gloves, and skates were scattered around the small enclosed entrance to my sector. With one foot I held the door open and with the other I stretched across the room reaching for my things. One skate and one glove was all I could reach, so I took a different approach. I sprawled across the floor, lying on my stomach leaving my feet in the doorway. The door was crushing my legs, it was made out of solid metal. Although it was much more efficient because I had retrieved the rest of my belongings and was able to head up to my home. Jogging across the second floor, scanning each door for the number fifteen. Eventually I was standing in front of my door, grasping the brass lock attached to the wooden door. Splinters stuck out like a sharp rock pit, on the cusp of sticking into my hand as I gently pushed the door open. I dropped my stuff on the floor and ran to the kitchen where mother had been cooking supper for father and…