That's not me...

~~~TW: Murder~~~

Two doors stood before me and endless white nothingness all around them.

I just stood there staring. I knew that I had infinite time to choose a door but it felt like time was running out and that I needed to make a choice within the next second. How did someone make an impossible choice? The two doors not only looked completely different they offered completely different futures and two very different versions of myself and after I picked one I would never be able to go back and undo what was chosen. The door on the left was a dark silver with a modern handle and the door on the right was white panelled door with a glass door nob. Were the doors so different because the futures were so different?

How did I decide? Could I let fate decide for me? I closed my eyes, lifted my hand with my finger pointed and spun around two times. I opened my eyes and wasn't even a little bit shocked to see that my finger was pointed perfectly in the middle of the two doors...

I reached into my pocket and pulled out a coin, placed it onto my thumb and flicked into the air. I sucked in a breath and held it until the coin dropped in slow motion past my face and landed on the floor standing completely on its side...

I stepped up to the silver door and put my hands flat against it and tried to silence my mind and just feel if it was the right one and even though my mind was empty I still felt nothing. My gut was just as silent as my mind. I didn't want to feel nothing. I stepped up to the white door and did the same and felt the same, nothing. So fate and feeling were out of the question it was going to require me to actually think about it.

I had felt like two halves of completely different people my whole life and these doors were finally going to make me choose a half. Behind one door was the half of me that was logical, a mathematician, a person who preferred facts to feelings and the other door was the half of me that was intuitive, an artist, a person that was imaginative. I had been divided my whole life, in a constant battle between beautiful works of art and crunching numbers. It had always been a battle between deep emotion or rational thought. It had always been a battle between myself. I didn't lean towards one more and I had never been able to pick a version of myself.

The silver door was the version of me that felt like the smartest person in the room, she was the version of me that was confident and felt like the boss in every situation. She was happy and secure in the knowledge that she could solve any equation. The white door was the version of me that was warm and social, she was the version of me that was loving beyond measure and was always able to turn anything into a beautiful piece of art and I loved both versions of myself and I had never liked being half of either, I had always wanted to be both versions FULLY and because I had never been able to choose I had spent the first twenty years of my life living at half capacity. I had never lived my life fully and living my life as two different versions left me without chunks of time, a horrible memory half the time and a constant battle of who I am meant to be.

I had waited my whole life to be able to be whole, to be one and now that I HAD to choose I couldn't.

I knew what each future held for both versions. I couldn't see it clearly but I knew that the silver door would have me as a research analyst living in a heavily populated city like Washington, D.C. because it would offer so much more data than any other place. I could dabble in political research or even medical. I would find someone who was just as systematic and stable as me, someone who I could play and always tie with at mancala and behind the white door would have me as an artist living just outside New York in a place with a small yard filled to the brim with plants and not too far from the city so I could spend my days going to the Met looking for inspiration for my next art piece. I would find someone who was a daydreamer, someone as visual as me. Someone who could also spend hours looking at art ranging from renaissance paintings to abstract art, someone who would I could have as a teammate who would decimate our competition in a game of Pictionary. Both lives sounded so different but both just as appealing as the other.

"I NEED HELP!" I shouted at the endless nothing that was all around me and beyond the two doors. "I have been evenly divided my whole life unable to decide so how do you expect me to do it now? I could live here in the endless nothing forever in agony over my inability to pick a damn door" I closed my eyes and a two tears fell from each eye only further proving my point that I was perfectly even and not one more half than the other.

I was just about to lay down on the ground and give up on ever living one life fully when a barrelling force moved me forward and through a door.

Once I was through the door it slammed shut behind me and faded away until there was nothing and the past twenty years were behind me and a future that felt completely wrong in front of me. I filled with dread and I couldn't breathe, I had chosen the wrong door....

Well I hadn't chosen the wrong door, whatever I had called out too, whatever forced me forward had picked the wrong door.

I opened my eyes to see a white ceiling above me and a bed in which I was strapped to by the wrists and ankles underneath me. Where was I? What was happening? A door in front of me opened and a nurse came in with a tray.

"How are you feeling this morning?" the nurse asked.

"WHERE AM I? WHAT IS HAPPENING?" I didn't mean to scream or cry but it was like I had no control over my emotions or the volume of my voice.

"Oh dear" the nurses face fell. "You're in the psychiatric ward at Lowell correctional facility"

"I'm in a prison?" I was going to be sick. The nurse looked even more worried.

"You have no memory?" she asked. I just shook my head, I couldn't speak without throwing up. "You were sentenced to life in prison without the possibility of parole but after an incident in the yard you were transferred to the psych ward..." She trailed off.

"Wh...what did I do?" I stuttered. The nurse looked away, she didn't want to tell me. "Please, I can't remember.." I cried. She looked at me with pity.

"You murdered 20 people.....One day you quit your job as an analyst and you travelled across the country, from New York to Washington killing women, all of them were artists....."