SHORT STORY (or first half page:) )

The War

I stepped closer toward the moulded staircase. My hands trembled slightly as I reached the rusty door. I opened it and my heart shrunk as I walked into the darkness.
The smell overpowered me and I stumbled into the room. My footsteps making a loud unwelcome noise on the hard concrete. I scanned the room, noting the rotting furniture, decomposing food and dead man in the right hand side of the broken TV.
I ignored the cockroaches on the floor and headed straight towards the bedroom. My hand lingered on the door and I imagined the room I had once lived in; the deep blue floor always reminded of the sea whenever I felt a bit homesick, the white walls rocked me gently to sleep and the floor was hard yet inviting at the same time; I began to reminisce about the war and how much I had gained from it. Now I was back and life just wasn’t so great anymore.
I exhaled and a thick, grey fog blew out from me, the door creaked and I reluctantly moved my huge frame inside the short, cramped room. 
Something snapped inside of me as I came face to face with the dusty, grey floor and the black, empty walls. He’d obviously been angry with me; my things were thrown all over the place, the skylight was boarded up; my books were gone and the old blanket that mum had gave me was filled with holes and stained beyond recognition. I knelt down and held it to my chest; letting the pounding in my head slow down until it reached my heart and then my stomach.
Robotically, I paced the floor and opened the ancient desktop on the left hand side of me. I pulled out all of the possessions that had once meant so much to me until I found my wooden box. I opened it and pulled out my small fortune and passports, leaving behind the picture that tormented me for all my life.
I shut the door quietly and walked up to the dead body; his eyes were open and vacant; the brown irises were almost grey, his skin was yellowish and his lips purple. The blood had dried and a reddish brown stain rolled down the middle of his face.
I tried to force myself to feel; feel anything for this man that had raised me. That had loved me with all his heart but I couldn’t. The war did that to you; it took away what you needed to be human; all your humanity, integrity… it took away the person that you thought you were and replaced you with nothing; nothing at all.
I ran as fast as I could to my car. My footsteps echoed loudly in the small alleyway behind my parent’s alleyway. Frank put down his newspaper as I opened the door, ‘get the money?.’ I nodded, ‘they got him, Frank. They shot my pa.’