Behind Closed Doors Review Novels & Stories

With that, I was out, the door slamming shut behind me. ***

The understanding between them transcended words. Together, the two boys stepped forward, hand in hand, and crossed the threshold of the violet glass. There was no splash. No sound of tearing reality. No dramatic explosion of light. One second they were there, their silhouettes sharp against the glowing backdrop, and the next, they were swallowed by the impossible light. The Door rippled slightly, like the surface of a deep pond disturbed by a falling leaf, and then settled back into its perfectly flat, two-dimensional stillness. "They did it," someone gasped, the sound ragged and torn from dry lungs.

“Open the door immediately!” The Director sighed. The sound almost surprised Selena. He sounded tired. Not powerful. Not dangerous. Just tired. Like a man realizing his empire was finally ending. Richard moved first. He crossed the room and pressed a button near the wall. A loud click echoed through the archive. The lock disengaged. Seconds later— the doors opened. Several investigators entered. Behind them stood armed officers. Nobody resisted. Nobody tried to run. There was nowhere to run anymore. The lead investigator stepped forward.

“Ah, that? Clay handles that for me, he briefs me with the details, I step in when I have to.” “I am a lawyer, but he makes me do all kinds of stuff.” Clay whines, Abed rolls his eyes as the elevator comes to a stop. There is another door but we ignore it totally, marching past it, “Where does that lead to?” “The sex rooms. It has all sorts of things in there, once before you could enter without authorization, I stumbled into it and my jaw dropped, a lot of different things goes on behind that door.” Joanne shivered. After seeing the room Clay and her uses, I am glad to find out somethings can still shock her. Why was I curious to see what went on behind those doors?

“To a memory you’ve forgotten. One your mind is buried.” She tensed in the chair. Fingers curling. “Mila? Do you see another door?” “…yes.” “What does it look like?” “Metal. Rusted. Locked.” “Can you open it?” Her breath grew ragged. “There’s screaming behind it.” Adrien kept his voice level. “You’re safe. The door won’t harm you. You’re stronger than the memory.” Silence. Then, a whisper: “The fire.” Adrien’s heart skipped. “Tell me what you see.”

After it was shattered that day, I never saw the pieces again. They were just… gone. I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting the familiar sting behind them. I refused to let a single tear fall. In my mind, I could still hear its ghostly melody. A song I thought I'd never hear again. A knock at the door shattered the quiet grief. "Come in." It wasn't a guard. It was Julian. He wore a black suit and held a small velvet box. His gaze drifted to the empty cabinet, lingering for a moment before meeting mine.

My instincts whispered that the end wasn’t really the end. When I reached the last point, I tapped the wall lightly. Solid. Then I saw a Mona Lisa painting, slightly off-center. I leaned closer, studying her knowing smile. Something inside me urged me to poke her eyes. Ridiculous, but my gut had never failed me. I did it. A soft mechanical click broke the silence, and the wall behind me shifted open. A hidden door. Heart pounding, I slipped inside. The room was dark and cold, smelling faintly of dust and papers. My fingers brushed along the wall until they found a switch. Light flickered to life.

She shifted the large frame slightly when she noticed a small gap beneath it. The portrait was hiding a small door behind it. Karletta touched the handle and slowly pulled it open. Inside was a small space, about 50x50 centimetres, storing a black wooden box. Karletta was no longer afraid of the consequences; she had already gone too far. She took the black box and opened it. Her eyes widened at what she saw inside, her body trembling as if struck by lightning. BUGH! Someone struck the back of Karletta's neck from behind, and she lost consciousness.

As I go, I reach out and pull the door closed behind me. In the bed, Arlo's fingers pause over the keyboard. He stares at the closed door. Thinks about what closing a door usually means. Decides, after a moment, that he would rather not think about it. --- The back room has no security camera. The medic's new hosiery collection is spread across the table, and she waves her hand generously over the display, telling me to take my pick. I don't pick anything yet. Instead I do a quiet, unhurried scan of the room, and then I sit down on the stool beside the table, prop my chin in my hand, and smile at her.

‎The doors close behind me with a soft hiss. ‎Game on. ‎