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Doors scare you, don’t they?

You know I’m right. Don’t shake your head at me.

The more you refuse, the more I can tell. You’re sucking your bottom lip. You always do that when you lie. And you blink a lot more. There’s not a lot I know about you, so I need you to help me here. You need to tell me the truth.

So, I’m going to ask you once more.

Doors scare you, don’t they?

There we go. Thank you for your honesty.

Now, do you know why doors scare you?

Yes, that’s what I thought. Repressed memories are common in cases of debilitating fears like yours.

Hmm, what’s that?

Ha, yes. That’s why they’re called repressed memories. Do try to keep up.

No, you’re right. I’m being unreasonable, of course I am. Please try not to take this personally. I’ve been doing this for so long now, I find my patience losing me gradually. I love what I do, obviously. But it gets taxing sometimes. I have feelings too, you know?

Yes, you’re absolutely right. I’m getting side-tracked. My apologies again. We’ll go back to the doors.

Oh? You flinched. Maybe you remember something after all? Can you describe what was going on in your mind when I mentioned the doors?

Darkness? How quaint. The idea of opening a door and seeing nothing beyond it… is that what scares you so?

Ah, of course. Opening a door and seeing something beyond it. Something foreign, can I assume? Not a loved one, or a familiar face?

Oh.

I look like your father, you say?

Well, I can assure you that’s entirely your doing. I don’t choose what I look like.

We’re trying to work through your issues here. Does it stem from your father then?

He would peek, wouldn’t he? Long after he’d tucked you in and said good night. You could sense his presence through the slight crack he would leave in the door.

What do you think he was trying to see?

I need you to co-operate here. There’s no way I can do my job properly if you stall.

How cruel. I have my purpose too, you know. A role I must fulfill. Sure, this wasn’t my first choice for a life calling, but sometimes we have to play the hand we’re dealt. Even if we’re given a handful of nothing.

Will you tell me what he did? Please?

How awful. I wasn’t aware of that. Thank you for sharing.

So, you see a door and you imagine a dark, shadowy figure on the other side. You’re terrified of opening the door one day and seeing him on the other side.

Yes, yes. Don’t worry. I know he’s dead. Trust me on that one.

Yes. I know you killed him.

Yes. It will be taken into account.

Yes.

I’m sorry. It seems weird for me to apologize, doesn’t it? You wouldn’t expect it from me, but like I said, I do have feelings. And it’s those feelings that urge me to find out more. I always know how it happens, but I want to know why.

Peacefully. In your sleep. I promise.

Yes, if I’d known about the reason behind your fear of doors, I would’ve come in through the window. Heh.

Sorry. Morbid joke. Little Death humour for you there.

I’m sorry to say my curiosity has been satisfied, and you aren’t my only appointment today. So, I’m going to have to call this the end.

I’m not sure myself. I’m just the shepherd. My role is to guide the sheep until they go where they’re supposed to. What happens beyond the farm is none of my business.

I’m afraid you’re going to have to step through this door.

I’m afraid I must insist.

I know he’s on the other side. But you’re the one who brought him here.

You knew you’d have to face him again, eventually.

I had quite a lovely chat with him, to be frank.

He said he’s looking forward to seeing you again.

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