The Doorway

I registered a loud beeping sound coming from somewhere to my left; or was it my right?
Sighing I sensed an uncomfortable feeling in my nose. A long tube had been inserted into it, going all the way down my throat. I swallowed painfully, my throat burning.
As the beeping went on steadily, I tried to locate the source of the sound. The movement caused pain to shoot up my arms. Inhaling sharply, I looked up at the high ceiling. It was spotless and white. The bright lights gave it an ethereal glow, as though it were a doorway to another life.
Or maybe, like Ray said, I was simply imagining things.
Ray.
The name slammed hard into my consciousness, and multiple things happened. The beeping became erratic; sensation snapped back into my lower body and the ceiling no longer looked white.
My vision blurred as a woman’s voice called out my name faintly. The beeping no longer sounded annoying, in fact, the irregularity was music to my ears.
“What happened? What’s wrong?”
His voice cut through every stupor, every psychological armour and every boundary I had ever built. Just like the first time, and the second, and the remaining ones.
“You always get through to me,” I’d wondered aloud once.
“It’s part of my charm, baby,” he’d responded, smirking.
And even though I’d laughed it off then, I couldn’t deny the reckless fear it evoked in me.
“Outside? I’m not going anywhere!” He was practically shouting.
Despite my haze, I could sense the energy shift around me. Voices became hushed, movements became frantic and a sense of urgency filled the air.
Slowly, the burn was no longer confined to my throat; it seemed to have moved to other areas in my body.
"Mon! Can you hear me?"
My heart ached at the pain in his voice wishing I could reach out to him.
The fire seemed to surge, threatening to consume me faster. After all, it’s what I’d wanted.
I was back in the bathroom, looking at my reflection in the mirror. It was like watching a pale and tired stranger.
“You’re too sensitive.”
“Why can’t you just be normal?”
His words kept playing in my head, the same calm and controlled tone. He hardly needed to raise his voice, because he knew what to say and how.
I pressed my palms onto the counter, trying to breathe, stay. But the noise inside me wouldn’t stop.
The bottle sat in the corner shelf, exactly where I’d kept it. All I wanted was quiet, not him, just the noise inside me.
“Mon!”
His voice pulled me back.
The white ceiling looked clearer now, bright lights appearing soft on the edges and blurring into something distant. The doorway seemed too real, too inviting. Maybe I wasn’t imagining things; maybe Ray wasn’t always right.
“Stay,” he whispered.
The doorway in the ceiling beckoned to me. There seemed to be no sign of fire there; no shouting, no voices that cut; only quiet.
“Don’t leave me.” He begged.
The beeping monitor stuttered and the room went still in anticipation.