The Third Door [NaNoWriMo 2014]

"I died. Now I live. But I live within the boundaries of my head. What happens on the outside is beyond my control." Constructive criticism is very welcome on this. I will be updating in small sections, but I will probably republish this with proper chapter splits when I finish it. © 2014 Parsavagely


10. Chapter 2 Part 4

Her foot catches on the door as the heavy hand bundles her through the door. She protests violently as he drags the girl to her feet by her hair. Not willing to deal with her rage, the heavy hand returns through the second door, closing it quickly behind him. Her heart-wrenching scream heard only by the dead wood and the walls. She charges towards it, pounding once again, kicking again, begging again. The whisper of freedom teases her, preventing her from giving in, a reminder that perhaps there are cracks in the perfect prison. A renewed sense of hope, crushed as quickly as it was given, but enough to provoke her to blind fury. Leaving the door, she paces the room, jaw set, anger rising, building, tempting. Her fist lands on the stained wall, a hint of red beneath the contact. Her nails bite her flesh as she tenses further and further. A few more pointless punches and she leaves her fist on its mark, taking a moment to breathe. Her head down, eyes fixed on the pool of rippling blood, fed by a gentle stream that runs from her knuckle.

“Damn.” She whispers.

The sound of a bird startles her, hearing its call in this place shouldn’t be possible. Sceptical, she steps towards the apparent source of the song. She presses her ear against the third door, but hears nothing, no birds, not a rustling of wings, not a dripping of water. Still confused, she kneels and closes one eye, allowing the other to see through the keyhole. White, that’s all, but a brief shadow suggests otherwise.

“Get away from there.” A heavy hand knocks her backwards, hitting her head. The voice was not raised, not angry, but preparing. She knew what came next, before the hand could grab her again, she ducks under it. The heavy hand hits only her leg, enough to trip her, giving him time to establish a tighter hold. She shouts, pounding, kicking, and begging as the heavy hands drag her towards the first door. She knows it will not help. His face is unchanging, staring past her as he unlocks the first door.

“No! Don’t make me go in there!” She cries, desperate, wishing his ears would hear. They never will, she knows that. So when she feels the grip loosen slightly on her abdomen, she twists from his grasp, diving towards the second door, which he had neglected to close. The heavy hand grabs at her wrist, but her momentum allows her to escape. She stumbles and slams the door behind her, grinning as everything goes white.

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