Doorway Delusions

A scene of Eugene's book, used for a university assignment. This takes places the same day as 'The Spider'. Originally published April 2025

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A low hum of the television filled the living room as Eugene slumped, sinking into his couch. He'd placed a bowl of cut up cucumber and bell pepper on his coffee table. Whether they were for him or if Chloe would ravage them first didn't matter to him. As long as he got to enjoy this solitude with her. Exhaling slowly, heavily, the weight of the work week melted away. All exams had been checked and marked. All his students had been assisted and were out on their way. Chloe had been taken out for her evening walk which was, other than the lady with the chihuahua being scared of the staffy, quite uneventful. Time for the weekend. His muscles were relaxed, curtains closed, phone off, lights dimmed and candles enkindled. The smell of cinnamon and apple pie wafted from the candles, spreading throughout the living room. It was a sweet, homely scent, not too overpowering, but strong enough to make Eugene hungry. Time to be alone for the next few days. He reached out for the bowl, tossing a few pieces of the fruits in his mouth. Chloe had curled up beside him, her warm body pressed against his leg. Her big eyes made Eugene at ease. He smiled softly as he fed her the last pieces in his hand. She seemed to like it. One hand petted her silver fur, the other held the TV remote.

Eugene tilted his head back, lifted his legs upon the coffee table, putting on a nature documentary, reaching out to-

RRRRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIINNGG

Eugene's body shot up, stiffened. His ears perked and head snapped towards the direction from which the noise came. Chloe mimicked his actions, tilting her head. His evening of peace fleeting away. In his chest his heart, thumping softly, then harder, making its presence known.

Why in the world was that damned doorbell so loud? Never had it failed to startle him.

HEY!

Now is not the time to mull over such mundanities such as doorbell sonority. The bell hadn’t been a mistake. Someone was outside. Somebody is at the door! But Eugene remained frozen, refusing to check it out. He wasn't an idiot. He'd seen what the time was; too damn late for someone to show up at his house! What an ungodly hour for visitors to stop by. Wait- what if one of his neighbours needed-He shook his head. They could call or text him first. His friends knew better than to show up unexpected. Who else could it be now? The shadows beneath the frame. He hadn't heard a car. Hadn't heard footsteps. Was someone just...standing there?

Eyebrows knitted together as Eugene racked his brain to answer the question. Slowly, he leaned forward, laying the remote down with a muted thud. His eyes flicked toward the front door. The peephole? Covered. The locks? Locked. All of them? All of them. Continuing to think, his mind unravelled, grasping at various possibilities and-

"No..." he whispered to himself. His eyebrows raised, mouth agape, eyes widened, as the realisation dawned. It couldn't be. It couldn't possibly be, but it was the only viable option he could think of. The only possibility that made even the slightest sense.

Chloe let out a soft growl, he could see her muscles tensing beneath her fur. Like master, like dog. Eugene hushed her with a gentle touch, but his own nerves were beginning to fray. Another chime. Louder. More insistent.

"They're here..." he murmured.

His hand clasped over his mouth, his heart racing like wildfire. Had they finally found him? After all these years....

RRRRRRRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNGGGGGG

It rang once more. Longer. Pressed harder. More insistent this time. The noise grew so loud, the neighbours could have heard it down the street.

He had been living cautiously, moving countries, continents even, halfway across the world, just to make it harder for The Administration. He'd made sure he behaved well and hardly drew any attention to himself, like any ordinary citizen. Too ordinary. For years there hadn't been any sign of them. Eugene knew their arrival was inevitable. But now? Really? Now? They had to come knocking on his door just as his life had begun to go well?  Impeccable timing as always. Couldn't he pretend he wasn't home? Darting his eyes around the room he figured, he hoped, the answer was yes; though whoever was outside could have heard the TV, could have seen the flicker of the candlelight. Leaning down he blew all the candles out, one by one. The living room going from dim to soft oppressive shadows that clung to everything, from the corners, to the walls, to hanging over him.

Chloe let out a sharp bark, her body lurching forward instinctively. Eugene felt his heart sink. Grabbing her snout, holding it and clamping it shut, forcing her to remain quiet. His pulse thundered in his ears.

 "Shh.." he motioned a finger, shushing her. Beads of sweat ran from his hair over his forehead.

"Fuck.." he cursed under his breath, barely audible over the hammering. Her wide eyes met his, filled with confusion. Eugene forced a smile for her. They both knew she was smarter than that. He slowly let go, releasing his firm grasp on her, his hand shaking, praying to a God he didn't believe in that she would remain still.

Chloe barked again. At the TV this time, when a bear roared at the camera. Almost a whisper bark but both her and the bear were loud enough in this dreadful silence to give him away.

Both of Eugene's hands shot to the remote, his movements so hasty he almost dropped it a few times. The TV shut off, and Eugene's hands moved up into his hair when he dropped the remote on the couch, his fingers grasping at the strands, tugging them as if to pull his anxiety and incertitude out of his brain. His breathing had become ragged, shallow, his scarred chest tightening with. Each. Passing. Second.

'What should I do?'

The phrase, the simple question, repeating in his head endlessly. Like a chant, a mantra insisting upon itself, gnawing at him growing harsher until his head ached. The more he tried to focus, the more his mind splintered, forcing his body in a state of inaction. He needed to think. To think clearly.

But how could he? With a dangerous figure ringing impatiently, with a dog tensed by his side, with his own mind-

"Ah shut up you!" Eugene hissed through clenched teeth, as if reigning in the thoughts would silence them. Instead, they only swirled faster, feeding the chaos that turmoiled inside him. So deep, so steadfast, only serving to push him deeper. Sinking him. Drowning him. Pulling him into the deepest depths. Focus, he told himself. But the harder he tried to control it, the faster the disarray escalated. Each fleeting thought felt like an open door to another possibility, another disaster.

The strong winds of the night rattled at the windows. Rattled at the door. Rattled and shook the core foundation of the house.

He felt Chloe's paw on his foot. A slight scratch from her sharp nails and general clumsiness. Eyes snap open. A relieved exhale. Pushing panic from the lungs. Because it hurts the lungs. She was the only thing between him and the dark. The only layer of protection from beyond the door. A mutt. A medium sized beast. Five hundred and twenty-nine ounces of pure clumsiness, that slobbered all over the place, leaving her traces of hair and stink everywhere she went. That was his only protection now. A stupid fucking dog.

If his hunch was right, he knew the crooks, these hired guns, they would be merciless. Chloe would be dealt with if she even dared to pose a threat to them. A single growl, a single bark or even a baring of her teeth would get her shot. "Okay...okay..." Eugene whispered to himself, his voice tremulous, unconvincing that an air of clarity would follow. It was unfair to be so mean to her. The tightness remained. The danger lurked at the door. He focused on his trembling hands, reaching out to scratch Chloe's thick head. Chloe reached her head up, always eager for more. It helped, if only slightly, but enough for him to think, to look, and play out all possible scenarios.

Scenario #1: Opening the door would only mean one thing for him. Death. Awaiting him. The thought hit him like a cold slap. The moment he opened that door, whoever was out there would kill him without hesitation. Shot on sight. If it was someone from The Administration - if it was them, and they'd spot him, it would happen too fast for him to react, too fast to feel anything. Unless that is what she wanted. He had seen the way she operated. Of all the people he met during his time, he was convinced she was the one true psychopath. Able to torture people for hours - no - days on end, out of pure sadistic bliss. Eugene always counted himself lucky that he was working for her, not against her. Tonight he wasn't certain about those odds any longer. He looked to the wall. Maybe...he could grab one of his..keepsakes..for self-defence... But then...What if the person wasn't from the Administration? Not one of her messengers? He would be insane to open the door with a gun on an unsuspecting bystander.

Scenario #2: If he left the door unanswered, Eugene could pray and hope all he wanted until they left, but no cigar. He knew they would camp here. He was all familiar with camping for a target. Camping and waiting until he left his house. Waiting for a chance to strike. And until then Eugene and Chloe would have to remain oh so still, oh so silent.

From behind, in the distance, a faint laugh could be heard.  A neighbour's muffled TV track loomed and drifted over the fence. Eugene turned. Were they in the backyard?

Scenario #3: And if he chose to leave through the backyard, there was a chance this person, this messenger hadn't come alone. He hit his head. He knew he should have installed the cameras months ago. He'd picked out the models. Browsed countless websites through their endless catalogues. He needed to see all his options to ensure his choice would be the right one. To make sure the cameras did and worked the exact way Eugene wanted and needed. He had bookmarked the sites. Calculated the costs. Looked how to install them and where he wanted to... but every time he sat down to order them, it just felt...useless. Hopeless. Every time he glanced at the sight he'd grow tired and weary. What was the point of running? What was the point of living a life like this? They were going to find him anyway. They always found you in the end. It made him close his laptop and lay down, with his heavy thoughts weighing him down.  Eugene knew just how ruthless and steadfast she could be. He'd followed in her foot tracks one too many times. It was all a simple matter of time. And his was about to end.

Eugene kept looking around the living room for any more viable options. There were none, there was no way out. A chill spread over his skin as the weight of the decision settled on him, suffocating in its urgency.  He had to open that door eventually, if only in a manner that wouldn't result in his untimely death, but how? How could he do this and still survive the night?

After ringing insistently, the person had resorted to knocking - no - pounding on the door. It started as a slow, menacing banging, thundering through the house, hitting Eugene like consistent blows to the face, making him lose his balance.

His gaze shifted to the keepsakes again. He climbed and stood upon his couch to get a closer look. They were...

Eugene wasn't sure why he'd hung them up here, in the living room over the couch. Was it a fond memory? A reminder? A display of power and knowledge? They could do him and any intruder some serious harm. Harm he'd caused many of those who came before today's unlucky sucker. Harm he hadn't done in a good few years now.

The kukris were too gorgeous to be stowed away in a box or a drawer somewhere. But when he tried to grab one it wouldn't budge. Eugene had made sure all his keepsakes were secured tightly to the wall. His hands were too sweaty for a proper grip. Even when he tugged a few times the kukri remained.

After wiping his sweating hands on his pants he reached out for another souvenir. There was a wide range on his wall, from melee to firepower. A big one would be clumsy, and thus he reached for the smaller carbine in the arsenal, but just like the kukri it refused to budge. It remained latched on the wall, his arms were trembling, to consumed with inner panic to focus and use his strength.

Being as stubborn as a mule, Eugene refused to give up. It had to be Chloe to be the one to ground him, and remind him of the looming danger. All that she managed with a simple low growl.

"Fine." He mumbled and jumped off the couch.

While scrambling together his thoughts, thinking of the most practical method for opening his front door without getting his head blown off and without something else to protect himself, it all clicked. A moment - clarity. A shift. A fleeting second of rational thought broke through that haze of panic. An epiphany paid him a visit.

Was there any reason, any purpose, for the Administration, of her, or any of her goons, to be here? They never went anywhere without one. And when he racked his brain over and over, thought about it hard and deep. Eugene had kept his mouth shut. All this time. About the job, about the company, about what he did, about everything. He kept a low profile, too low, he felt he was playing limbo sometimes. He kept to himself. For everything he had an excuse. A gap in education? A gap in resume? He'd simply answer he was stationed in the army. When inquired about those scars, once again a fight fought during the army explained it away. Hell, it explained everything away.

The guns. The nightmares. The knives. The faces he saw at night. The scars. The blood of innocent people dripping down his hands. The garand thumb. The intestines spilling out of his body.People usually stopped questioning by then.

THUNK - THUNK - THUNK - THUNK - THUNK - THUNK

The rhythm increased. The knocking becoming urgent, frantic and violent. It might even shatter the window, or break the door, if it kept up this banging like a four stroke cycle.

They had no reason to be here. No reason to be at his door! It was unlike them to stop by for a cup of coffee, not even at this ungodly hour. It couldn't be them. Realistically, it just couldn't. The chance of them being there was low. Not zero, but low. So very low.

Even with that sliver of reasoning, the thought lingered. What if? What if? What if?

His pulse quickened. They finally caught up to him. He looked down to Chloe.

"Maul them if they kill me, won't you girl?" She wagged her tail.

The air felt thick. His limbs felt stuff. A lump formed in his throat. Step. By. Step. He began to approach the front door. Down the endless hallway. It stretched on for far too long. The silence outside was unnerving. Too quiet. Even for this hour. His mind screamed an endless stream of 'what ifs' to drown the silence.

"Hello? Hello? Anyone home?"A muffled voice came from the other side of the door. Eugene halted in his tracks. The voice that had called out was young, almost innocent. A sense of naivety. The folks they hire these days must be gettin' younger and younger. He remembered how young he'd been. How young he still was.

NO! It was a ruse. A trap. To lure him and get him.

The front door appeared larger than usual. Its stature loomed over him, reducing his 6'2 to a mere trifle. Eugene could make out a figure through the translucent glass window. He didn't recognize it. He sized it up. It was smaller than him, but don't take that for granted. Remember when Man Number six kicked your ass despite being almost a full foot shorter?

Yeah...

Chloe shifted beside him. Despite her guarded stance she appeared calmer than him. Yet she knew.

"Stand back girl." Eugene whispered, ushering her behind him, holding onto her muzzle. He wanted to keep her safe. Loved her too much to risk her getting shot, or going into the offense without assessing the person and full situation first. Stupid dog.

Eugene grumbled, but understood it was in her nature. This was her home, her nest, her space. And she'd be damned if she didn't defend it to the best of her abilities. Even if it meant getting hurt, even if it meant to die.

He unlocked the bolt. Then the second. The third. The fourth. The fifth.

A trembling hand reached, grasping the cold door handle. Eugene pressed his eyes shut. Slowly the door opened. In such a manner that it obscured his body, save for his face; the only part able to be damaged if his fears became reality.

"Good evening!" A cheery voice spoke. Eugene opened his eyes. In front of him an adolescent boy. A box and smell of fast food wafted through the air. "I've got a delivery right here!" the teenager enthused. "D-delivery?" Eugene stuttered. He felt.... "Yeah! For number 56!" "Oh you..uh..you've got the wrong house...?" Eugene couldn't tell ruse from mistake. "This is 56-A. 56 is there." He pointed towards a house to the right. "Oh thanks! Sorry for the confusion! Have a good night sir!" The boy walked off.

Eugene remained in his doorway, staring down the dark street. Tears welled up in his eyes, unbidden, and they spilled over, tracing cold paths down his cheeks. He felt himself starting to tremble. His grip on Chloe released. She remained there, looking up at him. She didn't run outside, or ran after the boy. She remained calm, his anchor.

The door closed slowly, Eugene's gaze remained on the glass window of the door. Just like the glass, his eyes glazed over, and he froze on the spot. Staring. Mouth agape. The tears continued to flow, rolling freely down his face, over his stubble and throat. Some even dropped to the floor.

It took a few minutes before his head turned to look away, to look at Chloe. She looked back up at him. They looked at each other. She didn't wag her tail or smile at him, and he didn't reach out to pet or scratch her.

When Eugene managed to turn around he looked inside his house. The TV on mute. The remote tossed away. The candles blown out, with the smoke still dissipating in the room. The armaments all crooked on the wall.

He swallowed heavily. How could he? Let himself be so driven, so crazy and so mad? So panicked and frenzied? His own thoughts, his own fear, had such a firm grip on him that he was barely in control anymore. Where small unexpectancies drove him mad. God.

If Chloe hadn't been here to ground him, God knows what he would've done.

Killed someone innocent. In that stare of panic. In that state of clouded judgement.

Eugene stumbled back against the door, his back sliding down, his legs crumbling their resolve until he sat on the floor, shoulders heaving with each ragged breath that escaped him. His entire body felt weak. It was shaking, shuddering and unable to function.

A sharp laugh- raw, shaky, his body had finally surrendered to the absurdity of it all. He couldn't stop himself from trembling, caught between the release of tension and the rush of and overwhelming disbelief.

Chloe approached and licked his face. At his tears. Eugene's hands came up to hold and stroke her face. She nestled against him, her body functioning as a weighted blanket to ease his unease. The more he calmed, the more she wagged her tail. Chloe kept licking at his face and pushing her snout against him. Eugene kept laughing, softer now, tinged with something darker, a frantic energy that resided within him.

Through his tears he quavered,

 "What the fuck is wrong with me? Huh girl?"

It took him 10 more minutes before his tears subsided and his breathing had returned to normal. Chloe had stayed by his side.

Keeping his hand steady against the wall, Eugene managed to get himself up again. His legs still weak, but strong enough to stand and walk a little bit. His hand reached out to Chloe and remained there as they walked back to the couch.

He plopped down with a heavy sigh.

"God fucking damn it." he cursed himself and let his body slump into the couch.

"Let's try an' start over with this peaceful weekend huh?" he asked Chloe, who, once again, laid by his side as the sound of the TV was turned back on.

"I'll be damned if I don't tell the shrink about this."