He walks along what he thinks is a sidewalk. That's what he assumes from the scruffy sound his shoes are making and the noise from cars passing by, yet his eyes are swimming, unable to concentrate on the surroundings. Apart from that his walk is firm, determined. To the people passing the strange man on the street he looks like a cold person, confident, alone, heading towards an important destination. Who could have guessed he's falling apart, screaming so loud inside his head from the chaos his throat feels raw, begging for water. He tries to swallow the lump in his throat that's clogging his neck, threatening to break through the veins and skin when it swelled to its full size.
He used to imagine his head like a corridor. Every single door opens to a different room. Some doors are used so frequently they almost never close the others swing open only on occasions: work, art, crossword puzzles… then there are the ones, or rather one, that's kept at the end of the hallway where the light doesn't even work. The door is covered with a thick layer of spider webs. The knob is rusty and unused, as well as the many locks sealing whatever's inside. What made that door different is that it was the only one that needed a lock. The others could occasionally swing open on their own accord if the right wind blew through. The locks were on the door so it would be hard to open them willingly and consciously and even then it would take a good kick or two for it to move from its hinges. Also it was to keep something from breaking out because as mentioned before it was different from all the other rooms. It was meant to keep something alive.
Now the enormous corridor is deadly quiet. No creaking doors opening and shutting back loudly. The light is gone. Everything has a grey tint to it. The only door that's open is the last one. Broken locks are scattered on the floor like easily breakable cheap toys, and the door is kicked out, broken, completely out of its hinges. Inside it's nothing more than a black lifeless hole. The room is empty.
Another blood curling scream erupts from one of the closed rooms where the man keeps his logic. The door shakes in attempt to break out but it's jammed by something powerful. Soon after others join the helpless scream making his ears hurt from the impact. Another noise joins in, though it isn't a scream or the familiar sound of an opening door, it's a laugh, a very mocking one. The stronger the screams get the louder it laughs. Fast black blurs fly along the hallway banging on the doors, teasing and bellowing even harder. The demons have complete control over him, they are willing the leg muscles to move forward and not to run back, they are keeping his face stone cold and not letting the screams leave his mouth. "how did I get here?" is the last sane thought he has before he stops in his tracks, looks at the bags with his belongings on the wet ground and the only door he never expected slams shut in front of him. The looks of disgust and betrayal on the face of the man he loves.
How did he get there?