Walking towards the red door was a task that seemed impossible. His legs felt like lead and the floor like one giant magnet, resisting Ted’s lift, greedily wanting his feet all to itself. His eyelids dropped with each passing second, their permanent states half lowered, his shoulders haunched, his jaw slack, every muscle in his body screaming that he simply let go, relax. He glanced down at his hand, held over his belly, applying pressure to the wound, trying hard to keep his intestines in place.
He staggered on, the cackling of his tormentor filling his ears. The thought that gave him hope floated past his mind;
Just behind the door, is safety. Just behind the door, is safety.
He had no idea why he believed it to be true, but he did. Perhaps it was desperation; he wanted an escape so badly, he’d take anything. . .
A dark form suddenly appeared before him, obstructing the path between him and the door. It was him; his tormentor, his torturer. He stopped abruptly and found himself pitching forward, face coming closer and closer to the floor until it struck it hard.
He knew that it ought to sting like a motherfucker, pain dancing across his reddening face, but he felt nothing but tingles.
Well, he thought as he began to slip into the abyss, at least I won’t feel it as the beast devours me. . .
Get up! A voice screamed, the same voice that had promised salvation on the other side of the door. Get up! Get up! Get up get up get up get up!
The annoying mantra continued, like a fly, consistently buzzing at his ears, but even that began to fade away. . .
The beast stared down at the slap of meat that had delivered itself to him. His fixed grin widened, drool dripping upon the concrete floor. Enough savoring. It bent over, grabbing the man by his hand, and dragged him. . .
To the red door.
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