Taptaptap

TAP. TAP. TAP.

My eyes popped open, sliding over to where the sound rang out from.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

The sound echoed again through the space, a slight screeching sound emanating from where the nails held the hinges in place.

There was only one rule: don't open the door.

No one knew what was behind it, but the smears of red across the metal didn't give any comfort. But every day, or at least what I think is day, there is a loud tapping on the other side of the door. The others in the room whispered warnings and stories of what tapped behind the door. Of faeries or monsters, or simply the wind beating against it. But no matter what it was, behind the door, or the fears whispered to me in the darkness, the door remained closed, and the tap tap tapping only continued.

taptaptap. taptaptap.

Always in the same pattern, always in groups of three. Constant like my breathing.

At first, I thought it was the mice who crawled across my toes and between the cracks in the concrete walls but with nothing else for me to subsist on, they disappeared long ago; their only remnants the bone dust that coats the bottom of my feet. And still, taptaptap. taptaptap.

I tapped back. The same pattern, a different pattern, louder, quieter, and on every surface I could find. I stare at the door and see the others. Their faces lifeless, small, agonized in their failed quest. The tapping mocks them. Mocks me and my ability to leave.

taptaptap. taptaptap.

Again and again. Quiet, unyielding, patterned so aimlessly. I scratched at the surface and pushed my ever growing nails under the edge only to be met with more tapping, my nails bringing back nothing but air.

And just like that, when the voices grew too loud and the room smelled too old, did something replace the tap tap tapping at my door.

Creak. Creak. Creak.

Breathing too fast to hear the others I freeze. The tile under my nails too hard, too rough, too solid to free me. I scrabble from my chair in the middle of the room to get to the door, slipping on the grimey floor and falling to face the ceiling.

Creak. Creak. Creak.

A flicker of light, swinging, moving, that's new. When did the room gain light.

I scramble to roll over, a rustled scraping sound as my nails drag across the floor to peer again at the door. Arching up I see why my taptaptap has eluded me.

The door was closed, still sealed. With me safely inside. But then, where did everyone go. I twirl in the room, using the chair to hold me together, and I only see me, the concrete now shiny and smooth, and my feet begin slipping.

Collapsing into the chair, I raise my eyes to the creaking. I smile a toothless grin, its okay. The strange noise just a lamp, swaying but not opening, too high for me to reach. I look forward again. There stands the door, like always, mirrored, watching me. Standing on the chair I reach up, my longest nail trailing the tip of the lamp, ceasing its movement, silencing the creaking.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Snapping my head once again to the door, I ignore the crack my neck makes, focused solely on the sound that resonates from the door. My fingers reach towards the red stained surface, my nails scraping the metal as it begins to grow, multiplying. When did the door begin to surround me? When did the room transform from concrete to mirrors? Turning back towards where my hand rests against the surface, holding my reflections hand; I raise my eyes until they meet mine, and begin to watch myself watching me. Tapping.

Taptaptap.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

TAP. TAP. TAP...

and once again, I can breathe.