The Fourth Door
Locked inside a government facility, a woman finds three exit doors — but one more door they tell her never to open.
Dr. Lena Marlow never should’ve volunteered.
"Psychological resilience test," they said.
"Easy pay."
The facility was all white walls, hum-free lights, and silence thick enough to choke on.
They led her to a hallway lined with three identical doors.
"Choose one and leave," the voice said through the intercom.
"But whatever you do, do not open the fourth door."
Lena laughed.
There were only three doors.
She picked Door Two.
Inside: a simple room with a blinking green exit sign.
Almost too simple.
Something tugged at her — instinct, fear, curiosity — to look back.
Behind her, at the far end of the hallway,
a fourth door now stood.
Black, heavy, unmarked.
Her hand moved toward it before she realized.
The intercom crackled:
"Dr. Marlow, step away from the door."
But the black door pulsed — once, twice — like a heartbeat.
And from the seam where it met the frame, a whisper leaked out:
"You’re not the first. You won’t be the last."
Lena yanked her hand away.
Chose Door Two again.
When she emerged outside, the sky was wrong — purple, too low, spinning slowly like a lid screwed onto the world.
And the guards wore faces stitched together with seams that grinned too wide.
Maybe she hadn’t escaped at all.
Maybe the fourth door had already opened.
Inside her.
"Psychological resilience test," they said.
"Easy pay."
The facility was all white walls, hum-free lights, and silence thick enough to choke on.
They led her to a hallway lined with three identical doors.
"Choose one and leave," the voice said through the intercom.
"But whatever you do, do not open the fourth door."
Lena laughed.
There were only three doors.
She picked Door Two.
Inside: a simple room with a blinking green exit sign.
Almost too simple.
Something tugged at her — instinct, fear, curiosity — to look back.
Behind her, at the far end of the hallway,
a fourth door now stood.
Black, heavy, unmarked.
Her hand moved toward it before she realized.
The intercom crackled:
"Dr. Marlow, step away from the door."
But the black door pulsed — once, twice — like a heartbeat.
And from the seam where it met the frame, a whisper leaked out:
"You’re not the first. You won’t be the last."
Lena yanked her hand away.
Chose Door Two again.
When she emerged outside, the sky was wrong — purple, too low, spinning slowly like a lid screwed onto the world.
And the guards wore faces stitched together with seams that grinned too wide.
Maybe she hadn’t escaped at all.
Maybe the fourth door had already opened.
Inside her.
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