The Box

I couldn't avoid answering the door forever. I looked through the peephole once again and saw how guilty she seemed to look. She never really had been good at trying to keep things hidden. Her hair was not its usual orange silk, but had become tangled and messy. Her clothes seemed creased and were worn in such a way that suggested she had been wearing them for quite a few days. In her hands she held the little black box. Our secret. The thing we had been trying to create for almost ten years.

Her hands seemed to be straining with the weight of it, and the madness in her eyes kept me from letting her inside. The thing we had always dreamt about, an escape from our own reality, right there in that box. But there were consequences. People would die if that box was to open. And I had helped to create it.

I slid my back down the wall and landed on my knees, planting my face in my hands. If I admitted that I did not want to be involved then I would lose the only friend I had ever had. The only person in the world who could understand my thoughts better than I could. However, if I did go though with it, thousands of people's lives would be at risk. Because of us.

-R