The white door

The door opened, and quickly shut behind you once you passed through. The room was small, barely ten feet wide and twenty feet across. At the far end of it was a statue of a woman. Moonlight poured in through a glass ceiling and fell upon the floor of shattered stone and debris. Dozens and dozens of marble structures were smashed, crushed, and strewn about, making it nearly impossible to discern what had once been. With your bare feet you took care to avoid any of the sharp and jagged debris as you approached the statue; the only one that had not yet been destroyed. She was beautiful. She knelt on both her knees. Her hands were crossed behind her back. Her mouth was open and her tongue hung loose to her chin. There was even a drop of saliva hanging from the tip of her tongue that had been carved from the stone. The door had sealed behind you and there was no other way out.