Four doors. There are always four doors. Unless there're five. Then the extra door comes and goes, flickering at the edge of your vision and disappearing when you tilt your head to peer at it.
You've never opened it.
Never.
Your sister made you promise.
Never.
Your father made you promise.
Never.
The love of your life. You promised him, too.
They're all dead now.
Never.
You kept the door hidden, locked, taped and painted over. Walled away.
But your gaze would always fall on that spot anyway, the tape would slip off as if doused in water, the paint would chip off on the second day. The plaster came off in chunks.
The door would not be ignored.
So you open it. After a night of conspiracy theories, you open it. Your curious mind dares you, and you open it. Just a glimpse of the room it leads to takes your breath away.
Your mind spins. The ground swirls and shifts, your eyes losing focus, and you feel a snake-like thing wrap around your neck and begin to squeeze. You gasp for breath, feeling a slow burn in your lungs. Tears sting your eyes.
Creatures of white smoke crowd around you, press into you, whisper in your mind.
Hear us. Join us. Remember us. Never forget what you did. Never.
Your head lolls as the tendril lets go of your neck, a tendril you now realize was a skeletal hand. Out the corner of your eye you see a crack of light disappearing quickly. Too quickly.
You won't make it. You'll never make it.
Never.
Tendrils grab at your arms and legs, restraining you. You struggle against the angry ghosts, haunted memories, maddening voices, but it's no use. For such insubstantial beings, they have an iron grip. Every time you move, they tighten, cutting off your circulation, restricting your movements. Stopping your escape.
Memories, no, flashbacks, sear through your mind.
A girl sobs in a dark forest, her arms tied above her head. "Please let me go, just listen, please," she shrieks, the sound tearing from her throat. Your gut wrenches, but you laugh and smile at her. Then you strike.
Rusty knives embed themselves in your chest.
Your father glares at you, bathed in red. "Never forget what you did tonight," he manages, blood bubbling at the corners of his mouth.
Decaying hands claw your throat open.
"Remember me." You whip your head around and see him hanging from the poplar tree. Your poplar tree. "No..." A whisper escapes your mouth. He dissolves into mist, a silent message exploding in your head.
Your fault.
A rope winds around your neck, unbearably tight.
Blood-curling screams fall from your cracked lips, tears streaming down your face and mixing with blood somewhere along the way.
Then you're falling back into your home, the cursed door gone. All the doors are gone. The walls start pressing in, pressing in, you can't see, you can't breathe, you can only taste blood and hear their whispers...
Never.
