Evil never kicks down the door

Evil never kicks down the door. It knocks—softly. It asks you to carry out just one task. Then another. Then another still. It thanks you for your obedience, and promises you’ll never have to look too closely. You tell yourself you’re still a good person. You’re just ‘doing your job.’ You’re tired. You’re careful. You’re not like them. But you keep walking— backwards, eyes front, into a future shaped by everything you refused to resist. One day, you reach the gate. It’s heavy, red-hot, and sealed shut. You don’t remember closing it—but your fingerprints are in the iron. Then, you see the mirror. Not hanging, but grown from the wall. You expect to see a monster. But all you see… is a familiar face— aged by comfort, dulled by compromise, and looking back at you with tired, obedient eyes