Cutie and the Crazed

~{-I 3 I-}~

Clement walked up to his room, brisk and nervous.  The dark caverns of the parlor had done nothing for his nerves, so he had decided to go to the only place in that dreaded house he was familiar with – the room Chrissy had assigned to him.  He climbed the endless stairs, which gave him plenty of time to contemplate his situation, as well as the uncomfortable effects of the cloth bundled around his boots.  Finally, at the top of the stairs, he reached at least one conclusion; he could unwrap his boots.  The click of his heels would be no issue now that he wasn't trying to hide his movements from anyone.  What would it matter if Chrissy heard him moving about?  Still, he flinched when he heard the first few hard clicks echoing in the empty area.  After a while, the clicks became a steady comforting rhythm, something to fill the intense silence.

He reached his room.  At this point, he started to doubt Chrissy's words.  Why should he take the madwoman's word for the truth?  Just because she had said there was no way out didn't mean that it was true.  She could be lying to get him to give up all hope, to crush his spirit before devouring his sanity.  There could be a window, another door, a way out -- Clement opened the door to the room and remembered something which lowered his hope.  He hadn't seen a single window so far- not one.  He tried to conjure an outside image of the house in his mind and realized that he couldn't remember what it looked like.  Clement sunk into himself.  When he came in, it had been raining too hard for him to look up and properly assess the physical condition of the house.  He really had no idea if there were windows or not. 

Clement closed the door behind him, shutting himself into the room.  The smaller space comforted him, in a way, since there were less potential hiding places; Clement could see everything in the room fairly well.  Still, he made sure to examine the whole room properly.  There wasn't much to examine.  A bed, a dresser, a desk.  All close to the ground.  A bathroom to the right, an odd blue door to the left – the only thing in the room that seemed suspicious enough to truly examine, not just glance over.

 The door was painted a dusty cerulean blue, and it had no doorknob.  Clement shakily reached for the door.  It instantly shifted outwards a centimeter, seemingly the cause of a sudden ring of blue light outlining the doorway.  Clement shrank back, frightened.  He could see nothing but darkness out of the slight crack.  Was it a closet?  A pathway?  A tunnel to some horrifying destination he could only guess at?  There was no way to pull it back in without crushing his fingers(and crossing the light), so Clement took a step back and sat down on the floor in front of the door.  He waited for something, anything, to happen.  He waited for beasts to be unleashed, for knives to shoot out at him, for Chrissy herself to come out.  There was nothing.