Labyrinth

two - the door

dedicated to zoe <3

short story - the door

“Don’t open the door.”

She had expected to hear the rasping whisper; she had known she couldn’t get this far without being stopped. Her pale, thin fingers began to shake, releasing the cold metal handle. Flicking a silver-blonde strand of hair behind her ear, she closed her eyes.

‘Breathe,’ was all she could think- it was all she could do! He couldn’t hurt her here, surely? Someone would see, wouldn’t they, with all the cameras recording the room?

“Turn around and face me, Cece.”

The name made her wrinkle her nose in disgust. He gave all the girls pet names; he wanted them to be his own. Reluctantly, she opened her dull blue eyes and swivelled her body round to face the monster.

“Explain yourself.” he ordered, his symmetrical face covered with creases.

She didn’t have an explanation. Why was she trying to get into The Room anyway? Did she really want to know what was inside?

“I don’t know, sir,” she answered simply, looking back at Graham’s harsh, dark eyes.

“You don’t?” he sneered, stretching his bony arm out and cupping her small face. “You just thought it would be fun to disobey me? You thought it would be fun to try and go through the Door?” He paused only for breath, and continued. “It’s painted red for a reason! It stands out! You can’t simply go up to it without noticing!”

“I’m sorry,” she said, not meaning it in the slightest.

“Get out of my sight,” Graham spat, glaring at her, and flinched his hand away from her soft skin. “Go back to the office, and do your job.”

Fifteen minutes later, she sat on the white chair daydreaming into the white wall. The shiny white desk had just been cleaned; it was spotless, and the same coloured phone sat silently on it. There was also a fine, transparent computer – made entirely of glass. The flawless object was placed next to the phone, and it contained all the names of the workers at Hawthorne & Cyrus, all the data she needed to work there. The whole room white, as was the whole box-like, aseptic building. Cecelia hated it. She hated sitting in the same room every day; she hated wearing the same clean, ordinary clothes every day; she hated waiting for the phone to ring and having to answer politely, every single day. But what she hated most of all was working for Graham.

She focused her attention on the window; the fierce rain pattering down on the clear glass. Looking up at the sky, she could see more tenebrous clouds forming. The thunder clapped angrily in the distance.  It wasn’t going to be a pleasant journey home.

Celestial white sky scrapers stood out radiantly. Even from the window, in the rain, Cecelia could see the beauty of her city. The building she sat in was simple: tall, white of course, with one large white door. It wasn’t modern, nor heavenly like the other ones, it was plain. Cecelia edged closer towards the window, surveying the city spread out before her. The whole city was as white as a diamond, the buildings, the houses, the pavements, the roads, the clothes. The trees were white, the sign posts were white. Scattered across the area were Depots, giant white domes with colossal doors as red as blood. The same doors were located in every major business; every building had a Door. Curiosity had taken over Cecelia that morning. Why were they forbidden? What was on the other side?

Fiddling with her hair, Cecelia stared at the white wall again as the minutes passed by. Pressing her hand to her cheek, she traced the ugly scar torn into it, wishing it would leave her, wishing the accident hadn’t happened. She wanted to be beautiful again; her angelic face just wasn’t the same now. It had aged her tremendously; she was a hag in a sea full of perfect people.

A beep interrupted her train of thought, and Cecelia picked the phone up, preparing herself for an irritated customer.

“Cece?” a familiar voice growled.

“Sir,” Cecelia replied, her breaths becoming more ragged.

‘Why is he calling me?’ she thought, utterly confused. ‘Am I in more trouble?’

Graham never called Cecelia. Graham didn’t call people. He always told the guards to bring them to his office.

“You wanted to go through the Door,” Graham stated. “Didn’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” she replied, unsure of what he was going to do.

“Go on, then. Open it. Go in.” he said firmly.

“N-no, sir. You said we mustn’t go through it, sir,” she stuttered, wishing she had never even thought of trying to open the Door.

Why did he want her to go through it?

“I order you to go through it, Cece. You have no choice.” The line went dead.

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