10,000 Doors

Door 11

The knife pressed uncomfortably against Femie's leg as she approached a new door, and took a second to reflect. She focussed on her breathing, and realised that she had taken that luxury away from a defenceless animal. Even though there were so many knives in that poor dog's body that he might not have survived anyway, she had robbed him of the chance to ever find out. Perhaps it was just because she missed Hunter, but her chest seemed to be filled with guilt, and the pressure was stopping her from being able to carry on. 

Her mouth began to feel incredibly dry, and so she was forced to stop worrying and take a drink of water. She had already drunk a quarter of the bottle, and it wasn't a big bottle either. Femie knew she had to pace herself if she wanted her supply to last, given that she had no idea whether she would be able to fill it up again.

Femie finally lifted her hand and placed it on the handle. She had to hesitate a while. What kind of horror might follow the last?

She pulled the door open with her eyes closed. Through the blackness of her eyelids, she heard high pitched squeaking coming from within the room.

Slowly, Femie opened her eyes. She couldn't help but laugh with relief.

Inside this room were hundreds of tiny, white mice. There were so many of them that they were already spilling into the corridor with Femie. She hurried to close the door again. As much as she liked the company, she didn't quite feel like having too many mice around her.

As the door closed, on of the mice got its tail stuck. It squealed frantically for help, as one of the hens approached it menacingly. Femie, not wanting to be the reason for another animal's death, shooed the chicken away and helped the mouse out of the door.

The end of the mouse's tail had de-gloved, leaving the bone visible and bleeding. As it sat on her hand trembling, Femie began to stroke its head. It didn't seem to be in much pain, and the bleeding was very mild, yet Femie couldn't help but feel bad for the tiny rodent.

Femie looked into the mouse's shiny, black eyes, like obsidian. There was something therapeutic in it, and in that moment, Femie decided to keep the mouse. She slipped into her breast pocket, where it curled up and fell asleep.

The small amount of pressure that the mouse was having against Femie's heart was strangely reassuring to her, and she felt a new boost of confidence as she approached the next door.