It was a long moment before either you or Mike said something. Both of you were obviously surprised by the turn of events. "So... Dicephalus is not a disease. It must mean... two-headed." You took an uneasy deep breathe. You could feel your diaphragm move sluggishly, like it did not want to fully obey. A second later, you could feel it move again as Mike tried to take a deep breathe. The feeling was so foreign. You inevitably resisted it, like Mike must of done when you breathed. This defiantly was not some elaborate illusion. You and Mike were really one person, at least from your necks down. No, That wasn't completely right either. You anxiously watched as your right arm slowly squeezed and released the armrest. Realization struck; you could not feel your right arm. It was as if it was not there at all. Which, it technically was not. That right arm was Mike's, not yours. The small scar on the webbing of his hand between the thumb and pointer finger became more pronounced when he flexed. As a 5 year old, Mike had stupidly stapled himself on his right hand; that right hand.
In fact, you realized with a sick horror that the entire right side was your brother's. You could clearly see the various marks and scars that Mike had gained growing up; different ones then what you had. It was easy to see these due to your clothes being torn apart. The process that made you join with Mike must have caused your clothes to rip, to make way for your fusing flesh. This sick gamemaster had literally melded the two of you so badly that there was only one complete body. Bile started to creep into your mouth. You had to to force it back down; you did not want to risk vomiting.
Somehow, Mike, like usual, found a way to console you. "And I though sharing a room was bad." His stupid humor. A small smile crossed your face; Mike laughed lightly at his own statement. Somehow Mike always had a way to cheer you up, like you did when he was down. Having a brother had its benefits.
You took a moment to expand your view past your shared body. On the ground, there were folded clothes, obviously left for you. To either side of the small room, the doorways remained open and uninviting. When you felt like you could trust your voice, you finally spoke again. "He said something about choosing a door."
Mike nodded. "Left or Right. Two choices. We... obviously... can only go the same way."
You nodded in agreement. "He was careful in his words. 'Only one may walk out of this room.' I think we qualify now." You bit your lip. "There are clothes ahead of us. Let's get dressed first."