Your nerves are shot. Your leg does not move, and neither does your arm or your fingers or your foot or you-
Something moves on your leg. A horrifying, prickling, ever so slightly painful sensation.
Like there’s something alive in your pant.
In the dim light, you see it. Something long - two thirds the length of your entire leg - that quivers and slithers and moves and crawls, up the side of your leg, it’s on your hip, wrapping around to your back.
This section of wall is even more heavily coated in mold than any of the others, making it look just like any of the other walls. But after a moment, you start to recognize it for what it is - a larger lump of mold? A handle. The lip of fungi? A jamb.
A door.