After a while, the mind goes blank, and all that's left is the tiniest little sliver of a life.

You think, "Yes. I used to be a person. I ate and slept and read trashy romance novels, inhaled pints of chocolate ice cream when I was in a bad mood, felt sick when I had to talk in front of a classroom, indulged in late-night infomercials when I was feeling restless, read my horoscope in the paper every weekend, dug my feet into sand at the beach, fought with my mum, laughed with my sisters, sang in showers, was loved, once…" But the thought isn't really a thought, and all the things you ever did or ever dreamed to do bleed into one another like paint in a watercolor, and all that's left is this:

My name is Annie Clair Sawyer. My mum's name is Carmen. I don't trust cats.

Everything else is blank, or murky, or sort of half there, really. The rest of my brain is filled up with the idea of eternity – Eternity – the very word seems to reside in every corner of my mind, pushing out all the good things, all the people I love, all the little bits of me that make me who I am. And now I realize that my eternity is Death, and that Death is a place – a real place – and I'm trapped in it.

I will never see my friends again.

How long have I been here, anyway? Time seems to be on a simultaneous loop and standstill in this place. At moments it feels like I have been screaming and crying for hours – and then the light shifts or I blink and close my eyes and when they've opened, there's the acute sense that I have been standing in this little cage for months, maybe years.

And that frightens me.

It frightens me that I'm starting to forget simple, silly things – like what size shoes I wore, or what George's favorite mug looked like. George. That name. It's a relief when it pops up in my mind – as if I've just come across a cherished trinket that I'd thought I'd lost. And then I see their faces; hazy at first but then clearer and clearer as I will myself to focus. My boys. The two best friends I ever had. Are they thinking of me? Have they forgotten me? Are they even alive?

I want to scream – so I do. I have to be out of my head. It's too painful to think of all the people I've lost forever. It's too painful to think that this existence I'm living in is real, and happening, and never going to end. I have to scream it all out of me, so that I'm empty – devoid of thought, of emotion, of anything. Maybe then this will all be able to end. God. When will it fucking end?

"Well, you're certainly pretty."

I barely register her voice when she walks in. For a moment, I think she's one of Them – the disembodied voices who whisper awful things to me at all hours, who threaten me with Hell and damnation and taunt me mercilessly.

But it isn't Them. It's her. A girl. She's so young, maybe no more than 20, and…normal looking. She wears a sundress, a sweater, and a slightly acerbic smile on her face.

"Hello Annie," she says, waving at me through the iron grate dividing us, "My name is Lia. How are you?"

I stare at her blankly.

"Jesus, cheer up – you look like you've seen a ghost! Get it? A ghost? Because you used to…"

"Are you here to take me away?" I ask. I barely recognize the sound of my own voice.

"Take you away?"

"To Hell. To the room without a door. That's where they said they were going to put me."

"Oh!" Lia says, eyes brightening with understanding, and she makes a gesture in the air as if she's waving off a particularly annoying fly, "That. Well, see, I've had a chat with the boys upstairs and they've decided to cut you a break! You can go."

As she says the last three words, the bars disappear. Her smile is too mischievous for my liking. I blink a few times just to make sure it's real. I feel as if I might fall over, but I take a single step forward, and she lifts a hand up.

"Well, actually – it's not as simple as that really, darl. I guess you could say there's a bit of a catch."

"A catch?"

"Yep. You see, your friend Mitchell is here to save you. But I think it should be your decision if you want to leave or not. I mean, feminism and girl power and all that, right?"

The thought of Mitchell, so close, makes me feel like lurching forward, but she's blocking my way to the door.

"So that's what we're giving you, Annie girl. A choice."

Three doors appear at the opposite wall. I know they weren't there just a second ago, and yet I still have an odd, familiar feeling when I look at them – as if they've been there for ages, taunting me, and I've just been too scared to look. I recognize the first door instantly. It's the door to Windsor Terrace. The dark green paint is chipped and faded, in the same places that my heart remembers…in my minds' eye, I can almost see Mitchell and George inside, sat on the couch, watching some horrid reality show. I feel like weeping.

The other two doors are not familiar to me. The second one is of rusted steel – it has no handle and no doorknob. The third is a regular, white door and, for some reason, it disturbs me.

Lia takes my hand and pulls me closer to the doors. "It's simple, really," she says, "All you have to do is choose. One door will take you back, like nothing ever happened. One door will take you to Hell. And one door…well, that's a surprise. So. Choose."

I survey the three doors again, scrutinizing them to the most minute of details. My hands are shaking uncontrollably. My heart wants to lunge for the green door – but I know it's probably a trick, a trap. It's between the harmless looking white door that leaves me uneasy and the steel door with no handle. I can't decide whether to go for the more ominous looking of the two, or choose the obvious.

"Annie," Lia coos behind me after a few minutes, "Choose now. There isn't much time. They could change their minds, you know."

For a few moments, my mind is a complete scramble of memories, emotions, and sensations. I close my eyes, take a breath, and blurt out "The second door!" Without even really registering that I've done so, until I open my eyes and all that is before me is that steel door with no handle. The other two doors are gone. Lia is gone. There's a chill breeze in the room, and my heart fills with dread. The door opens with a loud grinding, creak.

All I see is darkness.

All I feel is intense, paralyzing fear.

But I take a step forward, anyway, and let the door suck me in. I've made my choice. The rest of my eternity, whatever that may be, is about to begin – whether I want it to or not.