He took a long drink from a bottle of vodka. “It’s me,” the
man said. “Forgive me my sins and pray over me. I didn’t
mean to drink so much. I didn’t mean to lose you before I
died. The doors…” His eyes rolled back in his head and the
bottle of vodka shattered into his face.

“But Daddy,” she screamed, “Daddy don’t-” She curled into
a ball and began shaking uncontrollably on the wooden floor.
“No, no, no, no,” she screamed, “No!”

“Walk through the doors,” the man said as vodka dripped
from his chin, “walk through the-” He pointed to a nearby
door and then his clothes caught fire, his body turning to ash
and disintegrating.

“Daddy!” Sister Laura screamed, running through the open
doorway and into the next room.

This room led to a hospital bed where a woman with a
severe head wound was sleeping.

“This can’t be happening,” she repeated to herself again and
again, cautiously walking over to the bed for a closer look.
A clear tube ran from the nostrils of the patient to an oxygen
machine.