The elevator dings and a smooth voice rings out "Eighteenth Floor". The doors open to reveal an older man with a friendly smile and a piece of paper with my name scribbled on the front. We both burst out laughing.

"So how is that for an ice-breaker? Welcome to Vancouver, Haven!" the man booms. "My name is Charles." He reaches for my duffle bag and slings it over his shoulder. It surprises me when it doesn't throw him off balance.

Charles leads me down the hallway to a door with a shiny number 1804 plaque on it. As he pushes the door open the smell of roasted potatoes and gravy fill my nose. "Dolores!" Charles calls out and a tiny woman with graying hair comes into view. "Dolores, this is Haven."

"Welcome Haven, we are so happy to have you for the summer. Are you hungry?" Dolores is soft-spoken, or maybe she just seems quiet compared to Charles's booming voice.

"I'm always hungry." I joke, "But I don't want to intrude on your dinner." I have never stayed in an Airbnb before, but it stated in their ad that I was to provide my own food. Considering it's my first night, I don't want to break the rules already.

"Nonsense, you will be here for a while and we would both love to get to know you. That is of course, if you're comfortable?" How can I say no when she is looking at me with that friendly smile and the smell of gravy is hanging in the air?

Charles shows me to the bedroom that will be mine for the next two months. It is smaller than my room back home but still manageable. There is a double bed against one wall and a wicker dresser against the other. To my surprise and delight, there is an ensuite bathroom attached to my room. The walls are decorated with framed seashells and black and white costal pictures.

"Dinner will be ready in about 15 minutes, just holler if you get lost." Charles chuckles at his own joke and leaves me in my room. I unpack my precious outfits and while I hang some of my favorites in the tiny closet I try not to think about my room back home. I can't let myself miss it already.

After unpacking I follow the intoxicating smell of dinner back to the living room and plop down into one of the squishy brown armchairs. Charles is focused on the TV, a UFC fight is on and I have to look away before I get sucked in too. I take in the knickknacks and artwork that decorates the condo. There is a beachy theme throughout the place; vials of sand in varying sizes, carved wooden turtles, black and white photos of the most beautiful beaches and a large beach towel more like a blanket drapes decoratively across the back of the couch.

"Alright, dinner is served!" Dolores calls from the dining room. Charles snaps his attention from the TV and leads the way to the small dining room, licking his lips in anticipation of the meal.

The dinner Dolores serves could have come from a five-star restaurant. I have to stop myself from taking thirds. Dolores and Charles are amazing people, it is unbelievably easy to talk to them. The three of us sit around the dinner table as if we have known each other for years. They tell me all about how they met, how they came to own their condo and gush about their granddaughter Jennie.

I tell them about my rough first year at university and about the people in my life back home. They seem genuinely interested in who I am and why I have come to their beautiful city. By the time I crawl into the unfamiliar bed, I am already starting to feel like I am at home.

The sound of water lapping against the pebbles and shells that had washed onto the beach was calming. Orange beams of light danced across the water as the sun begins to disappear below the water. Out of everything I have seen and done during my first week in Vancouver, the beach at sunset is my favorite.

I have explored the entire area around the Hutchs condo. It's easy for me to navigate to the closest starbucks without using GPS and I have fallen in love with Vancouver. The busy streets, the greenery, and even the rain have all made its way into my heart. Despite my love for the city, I have yet to find myself "enlightened".

I'm not sure what I expected to happen when I came here. The plan was to learn something about myself and find out what I want to do with my life. Of course I know that isn't going to happen over night but I suppose I thought I would feel some sort of push or pull to something by now. Maybe I wasn't trying hard enough. Maybe the real reason I came to Vancouver was just to escape my life back home.

With a loud sigh I urge myself not to be discouraged and push my hands into the cooling sand. I end every night on the beach, leaning against one of the many logs haphazardly set out along the sand. How is it possible that I already have a favorite spot on the beach? I love watching the different groups of people that frequent the beach. Some of them are like clockwork.

There was the frisbee group, who showed up every night at 6 and threw a frisbee back and forth for an hour. The same joggers came around the path at roughly the same time every day. You could even count on the group of stoners to show up every evening to spark a joint and laugh hysterically at each other. I love how alive the beach is.

As the sun slips out of view, the usual group of stoners plunk down on a log too close to mine. I have nothing against weed, but I don't want to go back to the Hutch's condo reeking of pot. Not only that, but the smell brings back memories, memories that I desperately want to keep locked up. I quickly shove my notebook into my bag and stand up, stretching my arms high into the air.

"Oh shit," a stoner notices me preparing to leave. "I'm sorry, miss, we can move down the beach if it bothers you?" He indicates the joint hanging from his mouth.

"Don't worry about it. I was leaving anyway." I flash him a friendly smile, trying to reassure him I am truly not bothered.

I brush the sand from the backs of my legs and off the butt of my jean shorts. Just as I bend down to wipe some wet sand from in between my toes, it hits me. Rather, he hits me.

He knocks the air from my lungs and I go flying into the sand face first. Luckily, I am smart enough to keep my eyes and mouth closed and avoid a mouthful of sand. As the person who tackled me rolls off, I sit up with a gasp and brush the sand off my face. I jump as I hear a bellow of laughter too close to me and suddenly I am being wrenched to my feet.

I open my eyes and jump back from the topless boy in front of me. I use the term 'boy' loosely because there is no way somebody with muscles like his could be considered a 'boy.' The guy continues to laugh his too loud laughter, and I feel myself flush with embarrassment.

"Sorry about that," he runs a tanned hand through his sun kissed hair. "I was a little too focused on catching the ball." He takes two graceful steps in the sand and sweeps a football up into his arms. I can tell by the way he moves in the sand that he spends a lot of time on the beach.

"Don't worry about it." I snatch my bag from the ground and then I am frozen to the spot.

"Are you okay?" The topless guy asks as my wide eyes search the beach for a face I know I can't possibly find. But I had heard his voice, a voice that I hadn't heard in almost five years. "Chill, it's just my buddy calling for me to throw the ball back." he points down the beach and my gaze follows his finger. Everything around me falls away as my eyes land on him.

When my attacker looks back at me and sees the look of utter panic on my face, he hollers down the beach, "Nik, come over here. I think I might have hurt her."

"No!" a scratchy half scream tears itself from my throat and I turn to run but the guy grabs my wrist and pulls me back.

"Did you hit your head or something?" I can tell by the look on his face he thinks he really has knocked me senseless. I have been, but it wasn't his doing. He looks over his shoulder and now Nik is close enough to see me, and I know he recognizes me because his face falls and he stops dead in his tracks.

Oh, how the years have changed him.

The last time I saw him, he had been a 14-year-old kid with messy blonde hair and no claim to fame in the muscle department. This person standing before me has broad shoulders, a chiseled jawline and his bare chest is hard with muscle. Although he doesn't look like my Nik, I would recognize those eyes anywhere. Those brown baby seal's eyes that still frequent my dreams.

"I... I..." words do not surface. My throat constricts and tears burn in my eyes. The signals that should be firing in my brain, the ones that form coherent sentences, are completely fried.

I yank my wrist free and run as fast as I can. In my complete desperation to escape I pummel through a crowd of joggers not caring about the rude remarks they hurl at me. I just need to get away from the beach. Away from him.

I know if I linger then I will cry and he doesn't deserve to see those tears. No, he had caused enough pain in my life, but I had caused him so much more.

I don't stop running until I am in front of the Hutch's condo. My body gives way and collapses onto the well-manicured lawn, and then hot tears begin running down my cheeks. Flashes of scenes from my past began clawing their way through my tightly guarded memory. Flashes of smiles, kisses, tears and bloodied bandanas rampage my mind. I know I have to set them free, if I don't do it now they will escape in my dreams and morph into even more outrageous nightmares.