Under_The_Whispering_Door_by_TJ_Klune

And wasn’t that a conundrum? “Not as I was.”
“How were you?”
“Not good,” Wallace muttered. He looked down at his hands in his lap. “I
was cruel and selfish. I didn’t care about anything but myself. It’s bullshit.”
“What is?”
“This,” Wallace said, tempering his frustration. “Seeing how I was,
knowing that there’s nothing I can do to change it.”
“What would you do if you could?”
And wasn’t that the crux of it? A question where any answer would serve
only to show that he’d failed at almost every aspect of his life. And for what?
In the end, what had it gotten him? Fancy suits and an impressive office?
People who did whatever he told them the moment he said it? Jump, he’d
say, and they’d do just that. Not because of any allegiance to him, but out of
fear of reprisal, of what he’d do if they failed him.
They were afraid of him. And he’d used that fear against them because it
was easier than turning it on himself, shining a light on all his dark places.
Fear was a powerful motivator, and now, now, now, he knew fear. He was
afraid of so many things, but particularly the unknown.
It was this thought that made Wallace push himself up off the floor,
suddenly determined. His hands were shaking, skin prickling, but he didn’t
stop.
Nelson squinted up at him. “What are you doing?”
“I’m going to see the door.”
Nelson’s eyes bulged as he struggled to rise from his chair. “What? Wait,
Wallace, no, you don’t want to do that. Not until Hugo is there with you.”
He shook his head. “I’m not going through. I just want to see it.”
That didn’t calm Nelson down. He grunted as he stood, using the cane to
pull himself up. “That’s not the point, boy. You need to be careful. Think,
Wallace. Harder than you ever have in your life.”
He looked toward the stairs. “I am.”
He walked up the stairs, Nelson grumbling behind him. They paused on the
second floor, the walls a pale yellow, the wooden floors silent underneath
their feet, watching as Apollo walked down the hall toward a closed vibrant