A Door , rooD A

There was only one rule: don’t open the door.

It seemed simple enough when Ava moved into her flat. The landlord’s warning had been cryptic, almost absurd.

“We glued it shut. Reno regs wouldn’t allow a new wall.”

He shifted his overalls and pulled a long drag from his cigarette before blowing it back into Ava’s face.

She stifled a cough.

“Don’t bother opening it unless you don’t want your deposit back.”

For weeks, she ignored the door. The rest of the apartment was cozy enough, and life was quiet, until the knocking started.

It was faint at first. Likely the old building settling, the kind of creaks that came with age. But soon, the sounds grew louder, more insistent. Every night at exactly 3:00 a.m., a steady rhythm began.

Ava’s sleep became restless. The sounds were seeping into her head, creeping into her dreams.

She approached the door, feeling its cold surface under her hand, the echo of rhythmic knocking reverberating through her bones.

She pressed her ear to the door. The sound stopped.

Then came the voice.

A familiar voice. Her own.

She stumbled back, heart racing, staring at the door. It was impossible. Was it some kind of trick? But the voice was undeniable—hers, pleading, desperate.

She didn’t remember when her hand found the knob. She didn’t remember opening the door. Wasn’t it glued shut?

The hallway beyond wasn’t a hallway anymore. It was her bedroom, her things, her life—but wrong. A mirror image. And sitting on the bed, wide-eyed and shaking, was her.

Ava stood frozen as the other her turned slowly, locking eyes with her.

“You shouldn’t have opened it”. A twisted smile crept across her face.

The door slammed shut, trapping her inside.

From the other side, she could hear herself knocking.