I remember the crash.
I remember the thing we hit.
I remember my mother screaming.
I remember my father crying.
I remember how they both died.
It had too many arms, it was different colors. It was a mismatched quilt of colored skin and the quilt was tied together with a cluster of shiny things. I should be dead but somehow I'm not... The thing is in here with me, the thing is alive and just a door down from me. I should have died and I'm instead forced to hear it shuffle around, forced to hear it moan and thrash. I'm happy I survived though, because now I'm free. I'm free from their torment, their meaningless punishments, the scars will fade, I will be allowed to live away from the hellish reality I was living.
I heard shouting and maybe some kids? I looked out the window in my door and saw the thing run down the hall. Then there was bright pink light and I couldn't see what happened... The voices came back and then left... I think the thing died because I never heard it again.