Run

Chapter 13

Someone shoves me with full force into a room and slams the door shut behind me. I stumble in, trying not to fall to the ground. Once I have regained my balance, I turn back and rush for the door, determined to get out of this dreadful room, not wanting to be trapped in here at their mercy – not like it was much different back in my cell. I lean my weight on the door to attempt to force it open. Unfortunately, it does not budge. I repeat the action several times, but it is utterly futile. The door must either be locked from the outside or sealed. It does not really matter though, because it means only one thing.

I am trapped.

I curl my right hand into a fist and swing it towards the door. My hand collides with the hard metal and a loud sound echoes throughout the room. My hand stings from the impact. Trying my best to ignore the pain, I bring my hand up to slam it against the metal door once more.

“Let me out!” I scream over and over and over again, my hand still banging against the cold, hard door, though, let’s face it, I don’t know what I hope to achieve by doing so.

They must have been waiting for me to finally give up as no one bothers to come in to stop me nor inform me over the PA system that I am certain is there. I wonder what is going through their minds right now. No, I don’t. Everything that they think of is always sick and immoral, I am sure of it.

Speaking of which, perhaps they are simply going to punish me when I am finally let out of this room.

I shudder at the thought, not wanting to expand on it.

I punch the door once for good measure, hoping for the best, venting out my anger, though, obviously, nothing happens. A jab of pain shoots up my arm and I wince.

My eyes go to my hand, still clenched in a fist, examining the damage. My skin is split at the knuckles, the skin surrounding the wound stained with a thin layer of crimson blood. My knuckles themselves are bruising, turning bluish black. The things people do when they’re desperate. I am a clear example.

My arms drop to my sides and I collapse to the floor, defeated. My left hand reaches my injured hand and my thumb grazes over the wound. The contact causes a throbbing pain throughout my hand and I hiss. My right arm tenses up so much in an attempt to curb the pain that it starts to shake.

I take a good, long look at the room I am in – which I realise I have not since I entered – with the intention of figuring out where exactly they have put me in. I chew on my bottom lip as a wave of nervousness hits me. I recognise this room. I have been here too many times to not recognise it. It is the room of horrifying experiences. It is the room that messes with your mind more than you think is possible.

This room is the simulator.

The sound of a blaring siren resounds through the space around me, red lights flashing at regular intervals. I know very well what this signifies. They are starting the simulation. They have definitely been waiting for me to give up on my escape attempt.

I jump to my feet, standing on the balls of my feet, ready to run – either away or towards – if needed, bracing myself for the terrifying unknown. I move to the centre of the room as I wait for the simulation to come into effect.

The area around me darkens until everything is pitch black. I suck in a deep breath of air but, for some reason, the oxygen is not enough to satisfy. Perhaps it is just my nerves. I feel like my heart has both stopped and is pounding speedily in my chest at the same time.

The lights come back on but it is so blindingly bright that I have to shield my eyes from it. I squint my eyes so much that I can barely see anything that surrounds me. Several moments later, my pupils adjust to the immense amount of light. I bring my arms in front of me, defending my body from any impending attacks, if any.