The Door, The Void, and I

The threshold stood before me, a crack in reality. It called to me with a force I couldn't comprehend. The air around it was dense, thick with something I couldn't name, but I felt it coursing through me, penetrating every corner of my being. My breath became erratic, but it wasn't fear. It was something deeper, more primal, as if I was about to cross a line that could never be undone.

Eduardo stood there, motionless, like a distant shadow of what he once was. And in that moment, I realized something that froze my blood: maybe there was nothing more I could do for him. I couldn't save him anymore. Maybe I never had.

I looked into the void beyond the door. It was vast. Dark. Like an ocean with no shore to cling to. No fixed point, no place to grasp. Everything I had ever known had disintegrated, leaving only this infinite emptiness. Something inside screamed at me, urging me forward. It was the right thing to do. But another part of me hesitated, terrified of what lay beyond.

Was this the end? Was this what had brought me here? The thing that had shattered everything I knew? Time no longer seemed to exist in the same way. Space didn't make sense anymore. All that was left was the door, the void, and me. Alone.

I took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of thoughts crashing in my mind. I knew what I had to do. But the weight of the decision was suffocating. Was this really my destiny? To move on alone? To leave everything behind? To step forward into an unknown where I could no longer trust anything?

My feet moved of their own accord, the ground beneath me—if I could still call it ground—trembled. The door was so close I could feel it, its call vibrating through every cell of my body. Each step carried me farther from the version of myself I had once been, farther from everything I had known. Farther from Eduardo. From what had once been "us."

Fear surged through me, wild and uncontrollable, but there was also something else. Something that fought against it. Something that pushed me forward, refused to let me give up. It wasn't courage, exactly. It was desperation. A need to keep moving. To face whatever came next because, somehow, there was nothing left to lose.

The door flared with a flash of cold, ethereal light. My heart began to pound faster. The figure had vanished, but its presence still hung heavy in the air. It was no longer just a question of whether I should cross, but whether I had the courage to do so.

I glanced back one last time, searching for Eduardo, hoping that maybe—just maybe—he would wake up. That he would remember. That he wouldn't let me go so easily. But there was no response. Not a spark of recognition. Only the emptiness in his gaze, a reflection of what was gone.

And then, without thinking further, I stepped forward.

The door didn't give way. It didn't open with any grand flourish. It was as though the air in front of me dissolved, like I was passing through an invisible curtain. And then—everything I knew vanished. The cold light of the door blinked out, and the void swallowed me—not with force, but with an unsettling calm.

One second before crossing, I felt a strange peace. A stillness. Like the weight of all my decisions, all the moments that had brought me here, evaporated in an instant. The fear faded. The uncertainty too. There was nothing left but the void. And me.

And then, there was nothing. No door. No Eduardo. Not even the sound of my breath. Just the void. An infinite expanse surrounding me. I had crossed. And I had left it all behind.

Where would this take me? I didn't know. Did I make the right choice? The weight of that question hung heavily, but there was something else now. A new realization. What I had left behind no longer had power over me. The ties had been severed. And for the first time since all of this began, I felt completely alone.