A Lover's Tale (Skyrim X Readers!)

[A/N] Detailed writing

Just some expriemental piece of my random writing

There's a few doors on the long hallway. The walls are pale white, the walls seem recently painted or added, the ceiling is the same color as the walls. The flooring is some dark and light colored wood depending on the light upon it. There's light in the room, coming from the cieling, but looking up there is nothing. Just a ball of light that is shining in the hallway. At the end of this particular hallway, there is a window. Stars are out and dancing while there is light wind pushing against the walls of the house.
You have no clue why you're here, in this particular house, you never came here. You just woke up in this place. How long have I been here?
The doors that were mentioned gove you an uneasy feel, but the mystery exicties your curiousity.
Soft, dim, and fading screaming of people come from doors, seeming muffled by the white painted wood door. Gold painted door knobs.
Another door has a soft cry of a woman, man, and an eldry coming from it. The cries are louder than the screams, maybe because crying is more emotional and relveling of your true emotions.
In the middle of the two doors, the crying door and uneasy silence and calmness from the other door on this side of the hallway, there is a mirror. The black frame and the reflection on your appearance keeps you calm for a moment.
In cursive writing in the upper right corner it reads, "Those who deny their emotions, their cries, their screams, their pain, are victims themselves. Cowards. Weak."
The writing gives you an uneasy, but calming feeling at the same time, but it makes you think.

You decide to open the door with the muffled screams. The screams that was happening behind the door were expecting, but when the door opens, wind brushed against your body. Leaving chills and goose bumps. In the empty and black, endless void in the room the door opened to, a voice speaks and the wind gets colder and colder.
"I am judgement. You either care, or not care about me. But deep down inside your human body, under your bones, skin, organs, inside your brian, I am always there. Being feared by you and everyone. I am judgement, I mae you scared, I make you keep quiet so you don't make a peep, because you may be judged. I am the hash reality of the world, I am everywhere. I am everyone. I can not be escaped, even when people think they escaped this recurring fear."
The voice was deep, hallow, unforgiving, uncaring, and cold. The dark voice sent chills down your spine, and you depeseractly wanted the voice and feeling to leave. The voice repeated the phrase again, but in a darker and colder tone, making more wind brush onto your soft skin of being human. You shut the door and the wind was gone, the goose bumps were gone, the instinct to hold yourself from the cold stopped. All was left lingering was the feeling it gave you, the fear, the need to get away from it and wish it never existed. It will never leave, how hard you wanted it to, the fear will never leave.

The door with the cries is the next door you decided to open. You heard a splash of water hit against the door harshly at the bottom. You opened it quickly due to the curiousity begging you to. When the door opened, you felt drained and emotionless. Not caring and with thoughts that insulted everything you did.
Why did you open the door?
What's the use to open the door?
You're such an idiot, nobody should listen to their urges.
Why not another door? Why this one?
Idiot.
Useless.
You should've just left this place.

In the room, there was a ocean that seemed to stop at the entrance of the door. You watched the ocean move up and down as the water moved. Ships and people laughing were muffled and in the distance, it made you feel distance from everyone.
"I am depression, I am the one that leaves you drained. Leaving you emotionless and wanting to stay in bed. I am the one that insults you on everything you do. I am depression, everyone has some form of me. Mild, moderate, or to the extreme. I am a serial killer, I kill others because of the thoughts I put in their head. I have no remorse."
The voice was low, but eerily calming, as if it spoke true facts and made you feel slashed open. Insulted with some facts you didn't like and eated you on the inside. You took a deep breath and closed the door. The door seemed to close easier than the door before it, judgement.

The next door was quiet at first, until there was a man counting up and down, some thoughts coming in between. Soon the thoughts and words were mixed and couldn't be orginizated. You feel fear, for no reason, almost like you're going to die by losing air from nothing. You opened the door with caution and thoughts of worry were screamrd at you. This door was louder than the other doors.
"I am anxiety, I make you feel overwhelmed. I make you feel worried and scared for no apparent reason. Pills may help, but I soon return when you use them up. A lot of people don't understand me or think they have it, when they don't. I have many forms, much like depression comes in many ways. I am mixed often with depression. I can't be escaped either, and I make people shut up by their own thoughts."
The voice was muffled, and it seemed like a voice in your head. But this thought had a meaning than the thoughts that run across your mind. Thoughts and reminders about work, school, family, love, relationship, and much more.
You closed the door, but it opened quickly and harshly. Making you having to pin the door until the feeling subsided. You sighed of relief and waited until you were ready for the last door.

When you walked up to the door, you didn't have to open it, the door opened by itself.
"I am what you fear, what you are diagonse with, I am mental illiness and your fears. Many people in the world deal with me, and some die because of me. I am worse than any serial killers in history, I kill way more than Hitler or any famous evil person. No one can escape me, no matter how many pills you take to numb yourself."
The voice was calm, soothing, and persuading. Like a speaker about their political opinion that you just have to agree with.

Then the door shut on it's own, making you left there. The same wind and dancing stars again. The same writing on the mirror, the doors, the walls, the ceiling.
But a new door opened. The door was black, and made of wood as well. There was gold writing on it.
"Escape."
You turn the knob and white is all you can see, as you walk into the white mindlessly.

Sorry, I saw people write this stuff and I was interested in writing this. I sucked a little at detail in the end, but I hope you like it. It's different than my usual writing, and it may have mistakes and errors.