Last summer I was able to revisit where I spent a lot of my childhood hiding out, I can honestly say that it did bring back a horrible part of my life back. It didn't smell the same, although it did look the same. I put my hands down on the floor and felt the cold feeling of the torn up wooden floor. I remember dancing on this exact floor with my father, and fighting with my mother, and writing stories in my diary. I remember looking out the window and seeing green grass and fresh air, just wishing I was able to go out and play with my friends. Although it brought back a lot of sad depressing memories, it also brought back one good one. Last time I was standing in this attic, was when my family was together and happy.