Kneeling as tradition dictated, he stared at the dull metal door. A distorted face stared back.He wondered how long the others before him had lasted before they had damaged the door, how long had they continued before the futility sent them into madness.
His thumb pressed hard against the broken knuckles of his left hand. Sweat dripped from his brow, his breathing quickened into shallow pants.
The pain was a reality he could deal with. The door was not.
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