White Rooms

I awake. I have no idea how long I had been out or how it had happened. The last thing I remember was when I was in my jail cell going to asleep and now I wake up here.

"Where am I?" I think to myself. I look around and I see nothing. I am just in a square room with white walls.

"Could I have been moved into a different cell? Possibly, maybe I had been. This room is much bigger than my cell; the walls seem to each be 40 feet long or maybe even more." Then I notice something. There is a door in the corner of the room.

"Why don't I go out that door? It seems simple enough. Maybe too simple. Maybe something bad is behind that door. However, maybe I am being tested, maybe I'm supposed to open the door and this is a test to see if I will, like a rat in a maze." I decide to open the door.

"What's the worst that could happen? It couldn't be worse than this room; there is nothing here and these white walls are starting to creep me out." I walk over to the door. I pause right before I open it. I slowly put my hand on the doorknob. Thankfully I wasn't zapped. Nothing bad as happened to me yet and I took that as the greatest positive in this situation. Being filled with confidence, I open the door, awaiting whatever is on the other side.

To my surprise, on the other side of the door there was another white room. Same size, same dimensions. I walk towards the middle of the room, expecting something bad to happen, the floor to break open as I plummet to my death perhaps. But nothing does happen. I take a good look at the room of the middle. It was as if I never left the other room. This could be the exact same room except this room has two doors, instead of one, the one I came in through and one across the room. I decide to open the other door. I was more curious now than afraid; I just want to know where I am.

I open this door much more quickly than the last one and on the other side is another room. A white room, 40 feet by 40 feet, exactly the same as the last two, except this one has three doors.

"This must be the test part." I think to myself. "One of these doors must lead out, but which to pick, the left one or the right. I suppose it doesn't matter, if am I wrong I can probably come back and try the other one. Hopefully" Knowing that waiting would not help me come up with the right answer to this problem, I choose the right one. I open the door and on the other side is a white room, 40 feet by 40 feet, exactly the same.

"I must have made the wrong decision. I'll go back and try the other door. That will lead me out." I go back to the last room and go over to the other door, almost running for salvation. I open the door, but on the other side is not salvation; it is yet another white room, 40 feet by 40 feet, exactly the same.

First the time in my life I pray for one thing: to be back in my jail cell. I had tried so hard to escape from there and know I only wished one thing: to be back there and escape this maze.

I decide that the best way out was to keep trying doors, hoping that by small chance one of them leads to the outside world or even my cramped, foul smelling, jail cell. I try them, one by one. Opening doors, many doors, countless doors, but on the other side, each time is simply another white room, 40 feet by 40 feet, exactly the same.

I start to feel tired.

"How long have I been walking around in this place. Of course I have no way of knowing the time. It could have been hours, days, even weeks. There is no concept of time in this torturous chamber of white rooms and doors"

I finally break down and do something I have never done in my life, cry. I curse up to the heavens.

I think to myself, "no man should have to endure this torture." I continue to cry. I almost give up hope when I get the idea, a brilliant one, to label the rooms, by number.

"But how? They left me nothing to write with. Nothing at all but white rooms and doors." I begin to cry again, just begging for the end.

"Someone please just kill me. There is no way out." Then it came to me, "blood. I could somehow make myself bleed, I could write a number in the corner of each room to keep track"

I begin to cut at my arm, slashing my teeth over my arm repeatedly, until finally, blood. I had have been so happy to see my arm bleeding like this in my entire life.

I dip my finger in the blood and write a 1 in the corner of the room and go through another door.

"Haha," I laugh happily to myself. "I'm getting out of here," I think to myself in a tone of hope, hope that I'd finally get out of this place. "They thought they could out smart me, break me down, but they can't. I'm too tough."

I go through rooms opening the doors once again, labeling each room, 2, 3, 4, 5, and so on, until I arrive at this one room.

This room seems no different. I was a four door one, one on each wall as so many of them were, but it looks the same, a white room, 40 feet by 40 feet. However, this room is different and had a difference that feels so good to me. This room has a number written in the far corner. I had been in this room before and soon I'll have been in every room, or at least enough to narrow down the exit. My hopes haven't been this high since entering this place. I walk over in the corner to see the number and see which number room this was. 15625.

"15625?!?!?!?!?! That is not one of my numbers. Someone has been here before numbering rooms. How many people have they used this on? Someone has been here before and he went into at least 15625 rooms not counting the hundreds I've been in and still couldn't find a way out. How big is this place?!?! Where am I?!?!" I go to the corner broken down. I cry. I wail. I scream. I swear.

I look down at my mangled arm and pray. I pray for simply that I am dreaming, I am back in my cramped cell, that somehow someone kills me, I kill me, something kills me. Anything to end this torture. I scream more, despite knowing that no one can hear me. I attempt to bargain with the heavens, but my prayers are unanswered. I try one last attempt to end my life and get out of this torture. I slash at my already mangled arm with teeth, nails, anything with hopes of cutting an essential vessel and ending this, but it may never end.