I Never Should Have

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

A rule many people speak about in silence. Whispered among the hallways of peers.

“Where is it?” The question constantly permeating in air. Resting in the depths of everyone’s mind. Shrugged shoulders are the immediate response, leaving the location of the door conceal to all those who inquired.

According to legend, the appearance of the door is sudden. Uninvited and unexpected. Catching you off guarded during your downtime, or even slumber. Once it appears, the unavoidable urge to open it plagues you. Clawing at your mind to know the mystery lying behind the enigma. A peek, you convince yourself. It suffices the urge. Allowing the slow consumption of your mind, beginning with a nibble. Each playful bite coils around you. Tickling you. A memory of a time you enjoyed. You smile, basking in the sweet reminiscent. Your heart bursting with excitement.

The nibbles gradually become nips. Accidental scratches. Never deep. The secret pain weighs on your heart. Changing your daily mannerisms. You scoff at the concerns of others. “Aye, tis a scratch. Nothing more.” The collective drops of pain form into a stream eroding through to your soul.

The penetration of your soul marks the start of your demise. Sweet memories turn sour, like forgotten candy. You hack out what you can, but the poison runs too deep. “Why did I do this? I should never have done that.” Phone calls, text messages unanswered. The weight of apathy solidifying within you.

“I never should have opened that door.”