Our Attic Kept the Secret that Made Me Leave Home!

I found a stash in the attic.
Hello, my name is Mike Hopkins. I live in Boston, I'm 22 years old. Studying at university to be a doctor. My dream is to be a great surgeon, like my father.
When I was a kid, I used to see my dad on the news. His name is Harry Hopkins. He saved a lot of lives, he always performed the most complex operations without hesitation and did the impossible. He was my hero. Mom used to say that if it wasn't for my dad, she wouldn't be here with us right now. She was a patient with a serious pathology and Dad took a risk, although initially there was little chance of saving her. Only the professionalism of the surgeon and the enormous dedication of the doctor helped to put Mom on her feet - and then, they fell in love with each other and got married.
Once I even had the chance to see him at work in the hospital, and I remembered that day forever. He performed surgery on a little girl who was immobilized by paralysis. It all went well and after rehabilitation, the girl was able to get back on her feet. At that time, seeing the happy face of his patient, I decided to become as brave a doctor as my dad.
But that path wasn't easy. Back in school, I often went to the clinic and watched the work of professionals, gaining experience, so to speak. I tried to help the medical staff in any kind of work - do a full cleaning in the operating room, prepare instruments, take the laundry and take out the garbage. Everyone knew I was Harry's son, so they would let me be there. My first participation in the surgery was funny - when I saw the blood I fainted and fell right on the patient - some of the assistants took the time to bring me back to senses. Dad laughed for a long time - and I was slighted - how could the surgeon's son be afraid of the sight of blood?
When I came back to help Dad next time, he felt respect for me.
After hard study and work in the clinic, I entered the university with success. Studying at university wasn't easy. Medicine is a delicate matter, and it requires not only knowledge, but also extensive practice. Being in my final year, I managed to become an intern at the clinic where my father worked. I was no longer the kind of boy who fell from the sight of blood, so I could already participate in many operations and procedures. Gaining gradually more experience and knowledge, I became more confident and better able to perform my own surgeries. It seemed like I was finally getting closer to my father.
But one day, something happened that shook my faith in myself. Our house, which I hadn't lived in for a long time, was going to be renovated, and my parents asked me to help clear some rooms. I was happy to help them because it had been a long time since I had seen my mother.
After hours of rearrangements and cleaning, I went into the attic. My parents asked me not to go in there, as they wanted to deal with the necessary things and documents themselves. I thought they had a habit of keeping me out of the attic, as I was always afraid of the attic as a child. At the time, I thought someone was living or hiding there. Maybe it was some kind of monster that was just waiting for me, because as soon as I was going to go there, my parents would secretly block my way, distract me into something else, and eventually they wouldn't let me in. But that was when I was a kid.
Then I decided not to tell them and just go in there and clean up. The attic was a bright room and pretty dusty, with lots of different old, and very interesting stuff. There was a whole history of our family in them. Why wasn't I allowed to go? Because I could make up different games here, use things to break them down. What a shame I hadn't used such a beautiful attic when I was a kid!
That's when I heard my parents' voices. I was just behind the panels and I couldn't be seen. They hurriedly came in and talked about me, afraid I wouldn't find anything. Dad was standing outside in case I showed up, and Mom was fussy and nervous about looking for a box. As she went along, she described it, a brown cardboard painted with patterns. And Dad kept rushing her and getting nervous. And the box was right next to the panels, covered with a piece of cloth - after a while she was despairing of finding it, and Dad said it was better to lock the attic. That's what they did, and they left, so I stayed locked in the attic. For the first time, I felt a tide of fear.

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Видео Our Attic Kept the Secret that Made Me Leave Home! канала It Happens