The man closed the peephole's lid and turned around. His body was sweating though the room was freezing.

There must be a way out, and it wasn't the door. The man rushed to the bed and began to pull it to the side, he pulled and pulled, but he was tired. Too exhausted, he fell down. It did not take long before he got back on his knees. It was impossible to give up, so he pulled the bed and pulled again. Finally, he moved it enough for him to check what was behind it.

It was a whole. A small one, on the line separating the wall from the floor. The man punctured his scrawny hands in the dirt and started digging. He dug and dug, but he was too weak; he was getting feeble by every muscle he would move to grab a hand of dirt and throw it on the crummy floor.

After a while,, the man fell asleep.

At what time did he wake up? Did he dream of anything; or was it a nightmare? Was it any worse than what he was living at the moment? No, a dream is only an aspiration that sounds better than what you are living awake, a nightmare is the opposite. Though a dream is not real it doesn't mean it is unattainable, and so is a nightmare.

Three knocks. Three knocks resonated on the metallic door. The man rose off his drool and could barely think before he cried for help. The door opened, and as quickly, it closed again. The man gasped and ran to the door. But it was already shut. He felt a tear run down his cheek as his hand fell in a bowl of clear liquid. It ran through the liquid and his eyes looked at its composure. Whoever was behind the door, gave him a bowl of water. Without further reflection, the man poured the bowl's content in his eager mouth, gasping for more as he moaned in satisfaction while the water spilled around his now moist lips.

"I'm still thirsty!" he exclaimed as he licked the bowl's borders. He stood up and opened the door's peephole: there was no one. The man sat down and breathed. He looked up, at the light bulb and felt the tingling feeling of his eyes burning under the light. He rejoiced at this comforting manifestation of life.

To the dirt hole he ran, he dug with more energy than before. With so much desire to freedom, the man dug his entire soul which he mingled with the brown dirt that soon had worms, and plant roots, and pebbles.

"I'm alive!" the man whispered as he took one worm and slowly bit down on its little fidgeting body. He ate the other worms he found, and his hunger grew as he ate.

He dug again, fetching for worms and freedom until he saw a face. He stopped, hesitated, and continued digging. While digging, he accidentally touched the face and cringed at the squishy feeling as his fingers pressed down. It was a stuffed doll. The man pulled the toy toward him and frowned confused. The doll had brown locks under a blue hat that matched its' blue dress with white flowers printed on it.

What was a doll doing here?

Someone knocked the door again, and the man ran on his four limbs like a dog. He opened the peephole and his eyes peered through. It was a person wearing a very realistic mask of a rabbit.

"Guess a number" The rabbit's demanded.

The man was surprised to hear a voice, he hardly remembered the last time he heard one beside his.

"Listen," he pleaded, "I didn't do anything wrong, please let me go!" The man began to whimper. He took a deep breath and pleaded again: "I forgive you; I won't tell a soul about what happened here."

"Guess a number." Repeated the rabbit.

The man started to sweat. He looked back and saw the dirt he dug resting on the floor with the little doll he found.

"Freedom" begged the man; "All I need is freedom."

"Guess a number."

"Thirty!" Tears ran down the man's cheeks. Thirty! I choose the number thirty because I am thirty years old and I live in Tristian Street, and it happens that my apartment door's number is also thirty. I want to get there, alive. Please.

The rabbit tilted his head and said:

"The correct number was nine."

The man fell on his knees. He looked down to the door's end and saw the rabbit's shadow, camped behind the door, sturdy and menacing.

"What do you want damn it! If it's money I..."

"Money?" Coughed the rabbit in disbelief. "Money can't buy you everything. It is like when you cleanse your body with water. If you are covered in oil, no matter how much water you spill on your skin: you will remain soiled, greasy ... and flammable."

The rabbit put his hand down his pocket, making sure the man saw everything through the peephole. He took a lighter out and lit it in one flick.

"You are covered in oil, Clarence; I suggest you stay away from the flames."

"Clarence?"

Therabbit left after waving goodbye.