“Mouse!” Kat snatched the black hardback from the smaller girl’s hand. “What is this?” Kat scoffed, reading the title to herself, “’The Black Dragon’? You’re getting into fairytales now?” The mouse-like girl made no reply at first-she wasn’t sure if this was good or bad. “Pff. Fairytales are stupid.” Kat stuck the book on a random shelf and pulled the weaker girl out of the bookstore, into the Saturday crowd. “They’re lies, you know.” The mall was packed with bodies clumped together in small groups that clogged the broad halls. “There’s no such thing as a happy ending.” Kat had yet to see a happy ending in her own life, and therefore, as far as she was concerned, happy endings didn’t exist.

“Yeah, I know.” The other girl shrugged it off, feeling the need to reassure her friend, as well as herself; there were no happy endings because there were no endings at all. There was no future, and there was no past. There was only the present – or so she liked to think.

The reason why she thought like this was hidden behind a sleek black door, and there were some doors that should never be opened. For her, time did not exist. There was only the present, and the present never changed. That was all she wanted to know.

Kat had been holding a small white book, and stuffed it inconspicuously within a large pocket near the knee of her black pant leg. She didn’t care that she was stealing it. It wasn’t like her dad or her step-mom was going to care, even if she told them. They would be too busy fighting with each other to even think about her. That book wasn’t worth buying anyway. It probably wasn’t even worth reading. She just took it because she felt like taking it.

When they were several stores away, Kat pulled out the stolen book and flipped through the pages. It was called “the art of cutting” and was the auto-biography of an artist, whose childhood had been filled with abuse, whose art career was filled with disappointments, divorce, heartbreak, and finally success. In the end, she seemed to have made peace with her past and herself. Kat felt like she could relate to the first part, but wasn’t sure anyone could really make peace with a past like that.

The other girl’s name was Drae. Drae Collette Sylvan. Drae’s hair had always been the deep black of the darkest midnight-like the door that should never be opened. Now, it had purple streaks in it. They were permanent, and Kat had done it to her. Kat wanted her to be “different” and stand out.

Kat wanted her to wear a necklace with a small gray mouse on it, because that’s what she was. Drae was a mouse, short and squatty, with wide hips and a small voice. Despite that Drae had told Kat her name meant “Dragoness,” Kat insisted on calling her “Mouse.”

They both wore black T-shirts. They both wore wide black pants that slightly flowed when they walked and had three chains dangling from each leg. They both wore black shoes with white laces. They both wore black make up. Kat wanted them to. Kat wanted them to be different the same.

Whatever Kat wanted from Mouse, she got, because Mouse didn’t want her to leave. If she was alone, then she would think too much, and thinking would open the door. That was a very dangerous thing, and recently the door had been getting very close to doing it again.

Mouse’s eyes were hazel and her skin was pale, but not as pale as Kat’s. Kat’s was ghostly and dead. Mouse’s skin was freckled. Kat’s was plain. Kat was tall and thin and when she walked it was like watching a cat twist in the air, with a grace and flexibility one would not attribute to any human. When Mouse walked, she took long, stretched steps, doing her best to be graceful (and to keep up with Kat), and not really succeeding at all. That was a part of her act.

Kat was strong. Kat was perfect. Kat was everything Mouse tried to be. Kat was Mouse’s act. Mouse didn’t know that Kat had problems of her own, and didn’t want to know.

“So,” Kat said when they were up the escalator and staring into the food court. “What’s for lunch?” She put the book back into her pocket.

Mouse didn’t know what Kat would want for lunch. She didn’t want to offend Kat. She didn’t want to be left alone-at least not until she wasn’t in danger of opening the door anymore. “How about subs?” She said as naturally as she could with a glance at the sub stand.

“Nah.” Kat wrinkled up her long, thin, perfect nose. “How about burgers?” Subs were too clean for her.

Mouse hated burgers. She hated the grease and the fat and the condiments they came drenched in. She hated the way they felt as they slid down her throat. “Okay.” Her act made her seem sure of herself and stronger than she really was. Her act made it seem like it didn’t matter.

They got their burgers and sat down. Kat babbled on and on about one thing or another. She needed to talk in order to feel important, and Mouse never really said much of anything anyway. Mouse didn’t really listen. Kat was talking with her mouth open, eating and blabbing at the same time. It wasn’t necessarily a product of bad breeding as much as it was a product of neglected breeding.

Nevertheless, it was a phenomenon Mouse did not wish to explore. Instead, she focused on eating her French fries. Those weren’t too greasy, and they didn’t come drenched in condiments. Her mind drifted, and she let her eyes wander around, glancing over the people in the food court: parents with too many children to keep them all quiet, young couples out to spend the day together, but mostly groups of teenagers dressed in brand-name clothes and laughing and joking loudly together about nothing in particular.

“I hate preps.” Kat stated, watching one such group of teens, sitting just behind Mouse. “They’re so stupid and abnormal. Heh. The worst thing that has probably ever happened to them was a broken nail.” Then Kat giggled to herself, and Mouse mimicked the sound only to keep up her act.

Mouse couldn’t help noticing that none of those “preps” was sitting by themselves, and she was certain that they never had to worry about being alone.

As far as Mouse knew, all “preps” had friends and families and boyfriends. According to Kat, their troubles were meaningless, compared to those of others, but still they seemed pretty happy to Mouse. Mouse sighed and poked at her last French fry. She wished she could be like them.

“Mouse!” Kat snapped. Mouse looked up. “Did you hear me?” There was no more food in her mouth. Was there any on her plate?

Mouse looked. No. Kat had eaten everything. “Mouse.” Kat caught her attention again, glaring at her with an expression that called Mouse a ‘stupid moron’. “What is wrong with you today?” She wrinkled up her face in disgust.

“Nothing.” Mouse wrinkled up her own face. “What’s your problem?” She had to pretend she was strong. She had to pretend she didn’t care. If Kat didn’t think she was strong, then Kat might leave her alone, and Mouse wasn’t sure she could stay away from the door if she was alone. In her mind and heart she tried to run from the door, but somehow, the door always managed to catch up with her.

Kat got up and threw her trash away. Mouse followed with attitude plastered on her face. Kat was annoyed. Mouse knew it, and was afraid it might lead to Kat leaving her. Maybe if she pretended to be like Kat more than ever, Kat wouldn’t leave her.

“Let’s go.” Kat decided after a glance at the growing lunch crowd. “The preps are taking over.” She walked out of the food court, making sure to glare at a group of them chatting and laughing in a corner. Mouse tried to mimic Kat, but stopped herself and only half glared at the group of happy-looking teens that gawked in return. She wasn’t sure she liked people being afraid of her, but she had set that thought aside a month ago, when she had met Kat, at the start of summer.

Just as they were approaching the front door, Kat noticed some of her friends, all wearing black, going into the bathroom. Quickly, she ordered Mouse to stay put and called after the matching cohorts, following them away.

She left too quickly for Mouse to say anything, so Mouse was left alone. Surrounded by people, but utterly alone. She felt the black door inch just a little closer, so she forced all thought from her mind and sat down on a nearby bench.

She forced herself not to think, and put her mind in a place she called The Gray. The Gray was a place where no thoughts passed, and one just was. There was no color, and there was no emotion. There only was. Soon everything around her turned gray and black and white, and Mouse just was.

After a short while, Mouse began to feel uncomfortable. She could feel the black door forcing its way to her consciousness. How long would Kat be in there? Would she forget about her and leave her there to go hang out with her friends? Mouse could not wait for that to happen. She got up and walked slowly, but steadily towards the bathroom.

Just as she was about to open the inner door of the bathroom, Mouse couldn’t help but hear Kat’s voice, “Omigosh, she’s SO ANNOYING!” Kat paused and so did Mouse’s heart. Who was she talking about? “She’s like a lil’ mouse, y’know?” Mouse took a quick breath and braced herself for what might come next.

“I’m serious!” Kat continued, a fluttering giggle in her voice. “I could tell her the sky was green on Sundays and she’d BELIEVE ME!” Mouse found herself putting one hand against the wall to steady herself and the other arm over her stomach to try to keep back the sobs and the screams that wanted to come out. The only ‘friend’ she had in the world was turning against her. “Here, I’ll prove it to you!” At that moment, Mouse looked up, her eyes very, very wide, all words escaping her.

Kat thrust open the door, followed by her three minions. The disciples gasped, but Kat glared down at Mouse, knowing that the creature before her would shrivel into submission. She had spent years building up her own shell of hardness, defiance, and hatred. Standing tall before Mouse was nothing – forcing others into submission was what she lived for. She didn’t really have anything else to live for anyway.

Mouse breathed shallowly and quickly and felt her eyes watering. Here was Kat, everything Mouse thought she wanted in herself, hating her. Kat had never cared about Mouse and Mouse should have known that from the start. Kat only knew Mouse existed because Mouse had caught a thick chain necklace Kat had dropped. Kat reached out a hand to touch her, and Mouse bolted.

Kat followed her out to the parking lot, and through the cars and to the street, but when Mouse jumped a fence and escaped into a semi-forest behind someone’s house, Kat let her go, shouting something indistinguishable after the fleeing rodent.

Mouse ran. She kept on running. She wasn’t just running from Kat anymore. She was also running from the black door. Now that she was alone, it would try to sneak up on her, and she would have to fend it off. She would not open it. Under no circumstances would she ever let it open.

She hadn’t wanted to face the fact that Kat was never a true friend. She hadn’t wanted to face the fact that she had always been truly alone. For as long as she’d known Kat, she had lied. She’d thought that in lying she could find safety from the truth that tormented her. The conclusion Mouse reached at that point was this: lying meant dying, and truth killed.

Looking around, she found herself on her own street. How that had happened, she didn’t know. She’d only been running. She didn’t really want to run anywhere in particular. She just wanted to run and get away from the door, and away from Kat. She had run home. Why would her feet take her there? Could she even call it home? She’d lived in that house her whole life. Why not? Did she even want a home? If she had a home, the door always knew where to find her. If she didn’t, the door had to track her. Mouse decided she didn’t want a home.

She passed the house next door that had been sold a month ago and stopped in her driveway. She panted and swallowed and wiped her face dry. When had she started crying? She forced herself to stop thinking.

It was the hottest time of day. No one else was outside. She couldn’t hear any birds or insects. The whole world seemed to have turned its back on her and fallen asleep at once, in broad daylight. She felt stupid to have run like that. She had become gross and sticky just like a hamburger.

After sighing the muggy air of the Virginian summer, she pulled out a key and opened the front door. She hated having to open doors, because some doors should never be opened. She locked the door and shut it again before leaning against it for a moment. The key went back into her pocket.

She closed her eyes, but the image that tried to press its way to her mind belonged behind the black door. She went upstairs and took a cold shower – to numb away the pain of Kat’s betrayal, but also to numb away the thought of the black door. She didn’t want to deal with the hurt that Kat had caused her, and she didn’t want to deal with what was waiting behind the door.

She spread herself out on her bed, wearing her white church dress (because white was the color of ghostly, unfeeling death), and felt herself drift helplessly closer to the door.

Almost all of her will to fight had been lost with Kat’s spoken truth. There was little reason left for her to go on fighting the door. There was little reason left for her to keep living like this. Every morning she woke up feeling the same way, and every evening she went to sleep feeling the same way. Every day, every night, it was the same thing, the same sinking, the same running, and the same dying. The same black door that pursued her and wanted to consume her.

She took a deep breath and looked up at the lavender ceiling of her room. The walls were lavender and the shelves and windowsills and desk were all purple. Her bedspread was blue-violet. Somehow, she felt pleased that her entire room was filled with shades of purple. She hated red with a passion, and she hated black more than she hated red, but she loved purple to death. There was comfort and a shard of pleasant memory in purple.

She grinned slightly. Her hair was purple too. Kat had wanted to dye it red, like her own ebony-and-scarlet locks, but Mouse wouldn’t have it. At least in that, she had been herself. At least in that, Mouse had rebelled and been closer to truth than she had been in what felt like a very long time.

She took another deep breath and closed her eyes. So Kat was gone. So what? So it hurt. She decided not to think about that, and forced herself gently into the Gray.

It was not long before she fell asleep.

A small black mouse with purple stripes across her back was cringing in a dark corner, half-dead. She had opened the door that should never be opened and nearly died. The door was closed again, but she was still hurt. A large black cat with red stripes picked her up and started toying with her. The mouse kept getting hurt and put up a fight every now and then, but mostly pretended to enjoy the treatment.

Then the cat set the mouse down on the floor and lifted up her paw to give the fatal blow, but the mouse bolted. She ran and ran, so far and so fast that the cat couldn’t catch her.

She didn’t stop until she was out of breath and then she found herself standing before a small, shiny, black door, with a broken window. Fear tried to consume her. She would not open the door. She did not want to. Black fear filled the mouse and froze her in place.

The black door opened and a white light blinded the cowering rodent.

Then there was darkness. Mouse felt herself sweating, breathing heavily, and filling quickly with fear. The door had been opened. No. It wasn’t that door. It wasn’t the same door. It couldn’t be. That door must never be opened, because that would be death.

She opened her eyes and found herself standing on a white path, surrounded by darkness. It stretched straight ahead of her and ended in front of what seemed to be a curtain, which was a patch of a different shade of blackness. The girl walked slowly forward, feeling her nerves crawl up her back from the strange sensation that her skin was trying to peel away from her. It was as if she was growing slowly more and more translucent.

When she reached the curtain, she discovered a pair of red lights, glowing side by side off to the right. After a moment, she could make out the form of a person’s shadow. The shadow nodded its head, the curtain flew open, and a sudden gust of wind threw Mouse off balance, tumbling her into the darkness on the other side.

All of a sudden, the white path was gone, and the girl plummeted downwards, weightless in her free-fall. Slowly, the blackness around her gave way to a light blue color, and shortly thereafter, she saw below her an endless, foaming ocean. She grabbed what air she could, closed her eyes, and braced herself for the impact that felt like shattering through twenty sheets of glass.

Her eyes opened then, stinging from the salt of ocean water. Her whole body was stinging and shaking from trauma. She took in some water while trying to gasp, barely reaching the surface alive.

A log bumped her elbow. She reached out and grabbed it. As soon as she was done coughing and the shaking was only from cold, she looked around to figure out where on earth she was-if she was on earth at all. What had happened?

As she shivered in the cold water, she was conscious of a pressure all around her skin, as if reality was trying to sink back into her bones where once it had been ripped away.