THE DOOR

Two Doors

Robert woke up to a blistering headache. As he forced his eyes to open, his vision was blurred, with something warm slithering down blocking some of his sight. He dabbed at his eyes, feeling something warm and sticky coming away. The familiar, coppery smell. Blood. And lots of it. He reached for his left pocket, the pocket he always kept his phone in. Nothing. He felt around, and all his pockets were empty. What the heck was going on?

He struggled to remember what happened. One minute he was walking to his car, the next he was waking up, in a bad way, in this strange place. And strange it was. He swiveled his head around, trying to get his bearings. Where was he? It was a concrete room, not bigger than his double garage at home. It wasn't dissimilar to his garage. Concrete all around, concrete floor, concrete walls. Nothing. Just him and concrete. Two doors on one wall. A way out. He stumbled towards them, almost tripping over a black box on his way.

He hadn't noticed the box until then. Maybe it would provide some insight as to what had happened. He grabbed it, and saw a latch on one side. He slid the latch, placed the box on the floor and lifted the lid. It was bare save for what looked to be a letter. As he started reading the letter, his heart dropped. At first he thought this may have been some weird elaborate prank. But the further he read, the more he believed. It was surreal, but there was something inside him that just knew it was for real. His heart filled with dread. His mouth dried up, and he knew he was going into shock. He tried to push the panic down deep inside, knowing that it was time to make a choice.

He had to choose a door.

He racked his brain, trying to think of anything that could help him make the right choice. The letter shed some light, without revealing the whole picture. It gave him just enough to make him think he could make the right decision. He knew that one door led to his wife, and one door led to his death.

The letter stated that it wouldn't matter which door he chose. How could that be? It clearly mattered to him. He tried to think, but that damn headache wouldn't let him. It was almost blinding by this point, the stress of the situation adding to the probable concussion he had. How was he going to figure this out?

He looked at the last paragraph.

'Door one and Door two, quite the choice. One is for me, two is for you. Figure out who put you here, that's what you must do. If it's someone you know, go to door two. If it's a random someone, go for door one. Don't be wrong, or you won't live long. Doesn't matter too much, believe you me. Because door one and door two, will have the same consequence for you.'

What in the freaking depths of hell could that possibly mean. Did it mean no matter what he chose he would die? It didn't make sense. His wife was behind one door, and death lay behind one door. So it DID matter. It was just another way to mess with his mind. Whoever put him here was trying to torture his soul, and he was letting it happen. He just needed to make a choice. He needed to choose a door.

One or two. One or two. Fifty fifty. Glass half full, glass half empty. OK. His wife was behind one door. Her favorite number was two. It was her birthday, the second of the second. February 2. He reminisced about her last birthday, earlier in the year. Dinner, just the two of them. That had been almost two weeks after the 'incident'. He had made a big mistake, the biggest mistake he had ever made. He'd invested their life savings, all of it, in a scheme a friend of his was running. His friend promised him a huge return, said he would triple his money within maybe six months. Instead, his friend had ended up being sentenced to two years in prison for fraud, and all their life savings had just disappeared. He remembered how shitty he felt having to tell her, and was prepared for fireworks. He was even ready for her to leave him. But it was the strangest thing. She cried, which he expected. Her tears dried up after a few hours. And then.......nothing. She seemed distant, yet calm. She wouldn't look him in the eye. Her birthday dinner was akward to say the least. They hadn't talked about his mistake, and they both made jokes and laughed together, but something wasn't right. She'd smile, but it wouldn't quite reach her eyes. There was a coldness to it. He knew it would take time. All he wanted was to see her again. If he did see her again. This wasn't just the chance to save her, it was a chance to save THEM.

Did it matter what her favorite number was? He doubted she had any say in what door she stood behind. It had to be random right? As he tried to figure out any connection between what was happening and the door number, his eyes narrowed in on one line. If it's someone you know, go to door two. If it's a random someone, go to door one. This had to be set up by someone he knew right? Maybe someone connected to the investment? He knew he wasn't the only one that lost money, and there were some big cats that lost a lot more than he did.

He had to make a decision. Door two it was.

He ran to the door, praying that he was going to choose the right one. He grabbed the door handle with his right hand, resisting the urge to pull back when his hand touched the cold steel. He slowly pulled the handle down, and the creaking sound the door made as he pulled it open made him jump. It was a dark room, all he could make out was a silhouette. Suddenly a light flickered on over his head. Thank god. It was his wife. He fell in love all over again on the spot. His beautiful wife. Had stood by him in his worst moment. His gorgeous wife, somehow looking as calm as ever, reaching out and holding his shirt, he was ready to kiss her, to grab her and never let go. His amazing wife, holding him, and in her other hand.....a gun? Where did she get that?

It dawned on him slowly. Very slowly. His wife behind one door. Death behind one door. How could he have known it would be the same door?

As Amy lifted the gun to his head, he looked her directly in the eye. The woman he loved. 'Wrong door my dear husband' she said, her voice steady. When she pulled the trigger, he died before he broke her gaze.