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.

My eyes sweep around, slowly but surely taking in my surroundings. The ground is the colour of soil, though it is dried and cracked, stretching out as far as the eye can see, with not another object nor living organism in sight. The scene laid out in front of me must be a drought of some sort; it is as clear as day. After all, what other explanation could there be?

I take a step forward and a sharp jab of pain shoots up my right leg – what is it with me and pain shooting up my body recently? – and I flinch from the unexpected pain. I lift my leg instinctively, my eyes wandering to the ground, determined to find whatever it may be that has injured me. Something glints, catching the sunlight and reflecting it into my eyes. I jump back, startled, blinking my eyes repeatedly as black spots start dotting my vision in an attempt to get rid of them.

After recovering from the initial shock, I bend down, noticing a transparent shard, stained crimson on the visible edge. My hand reaches out to grab it, curious, wanting to know what it is. I spin the object cautiously through my fingers, not wanting to further injure myself, soon realising that this object is, in fact, a shard of glass.

My eyebrows knit in confusion. What is a piece of shattered glass doing in the middle of a land with drought? What purpose does it serve? Everything that happens in these simulations always plays an important role. If not, they would have removed it. This is a simulation after all.

I can feel the glaring sun beating on my back through the thin material of my shirt. Beads of perspiration begin to form on my forehead and soon, the back of my shirt is soaked with sweat as well. A drop of sweat slides down the side of my face and onto the ground below. I bring my hand up to my forehead to swipe away the salty fluid.

I straighten up and look at the cloudless sky overhead. Slowly but surely, the sun starts to make its descent and the sky darkens for more than obvious reasons and all too soon, night has fallen. A night in a place such as this usually means a cold one, mainly because there are no clouds to retain the scorching heat that the sun brings during daytime.

Unfortunately, I know that I am right. After all, it’s all science and geography. There’s nothing else to it.

The only question is how long they are going to keep me here in this kind of weather. I only hope that they are not going to throw me in a place with extreme weather conditions, especially since I do not have the proper attire or equipment. But then again, when have they ever bothered with those.

A strong, chilly gust of wind blows against my body and I shiver. I fold my arms and rub my hands on my bare skin, trying to create enough friction to warm myself up, though I am quite sure that the attempt is in vain. I can already feel my hands starting to cool.

The cold wind gets stronger and stronger by the second, nipping at the exposed skin throughout my body. I take a step forward and continue walking with the intention of finding a shelter of some sort, even if it’s just a tiny cave. However, as the minutes pass by, it becomes more and more of a challenge to move forward. If anything, it is almost as though the wind itself is pushing me back, not wanting me to go any further. Nevertheless, I continue pushing forward, not wanting to give up any time soon because I know that if I give up, I will be surrendering to them and that is the last thing that I want to do.

I refuse to show them any vulnerability or weakness.

I cannot lose.

I bump into something hard, something like a wall. My eyes dart up, determined to find what – or who, perhaps – is blocking me from achieving my goal.

“Umm…” I say, confusion thick in my voice as I attempt to spot the blockage, though my eyes find none at all.

My hand reaches out in front of me and it comes in contact with an invisible barrier. I curl my hands into fists and bang them against the barrier. The air in front of me ripples and the recoil force is so strong that it sends me flying backwards, throwing me several feet backwards. I land on my back with a thud, the sound muffled with the cracked ground. A sharp, shooting pain goes up my spine as I try to sit up and I wince. I sincerely hope I did not break my spine. I probably didn’t, considering I can still move my body.

I close my eyes and let out a sigh of defeat, my lips quivering slightly from both the low surrounding temperature and my attempt not to break down and cry. I run my fingers through my hair as I try to think of what my next course of action should be, what would be the wisest, since the landscape has remained unchanged since I got here and I am pretty much trapped in this hot basin. The movement invokes an angry throbbing on my back and I let out a cry of both surprise and of pain.

What am I going to do now? I am injured to a certain extent and even so much as the slightest movement brings pain to my spine. I am trapped with nowhere to go and I can’t even so much as move. And there is not even a single living organism in sight apart from myself. What am I supposed to do?

More importantly, how long am I going to be in here? An hour? A day? A week? Or even up to a month? Who knows? I do not know how these simulations work nor do I understand them. For all I know, the simulation room has some way of sustaining the life of the person in it for however long necessary. If that is the case, it could mean bad news for me.

But that does not mean that we do not suffer.

The sound that resembles the leaking of a gas tank fills my ears. So, what? Are they going to gas me now? But then again, it is highly possible that I am merely imagining it, considering my eyes are not even opened. I sincerely hope that it is not really happening. Who knows what chemicals are in the gas, that is, if they are actually gassing me.

An unidentified odour wafts into my nose. Initially, the scent is pleasant, but as if goes deeper and deeper into my respiratory track and enters my lungs, it begins to leave a bitter aftertaste. My body shakes vigorously as I start to cough out whatever it is I am breathing in. So, I really wasn’t imagining it, was I?

My back – or my spine, I am not sure which, though I am convinced that it’s the latter – begins hurting even more. I clench my hands tightly, my fingernails digging deep into the palms as I try to control the pain.

Moments later, the unknown gas stops filling my lungs and I abruptly stop coughing, almost as if that function has been switched off, or maybe even someone somehow controlling my actions. I mean, they could be. There is no extent to what they are able to do to me. I gave up keeping track of all of it.

I shove the unpleasant thought out of my mind. I should not be filling my head with these kinds of thoughts. I cannot allow myself to be consumed by all of them. It will cloud my judgement.

All of a sudden, all my muscles simultaneously become numb. The once sharp and agonising pain on my back has lessened significantly into a dull throb. Even the concentrated muscle relaxant cannot remove the pain completely. I wonder how severely I have been injured. Or maybe it’s just an effect from the simulator.

I try to push myself up, but none of my muscles are obeying my command, which is hardly surprising at all. I can only lie here until someone assists me or until the numbness subsides, which I am sure is what they intend.

“Are we just going to leave her in there, sir?” a male’s voice drifts into my ear. It sounds like it is coming from outside the walls of this room.

“No, Riley,” the person the former addressed replies. “Someone bring her to her cell. I don’t want her just lying there. It’s pathetic.”

My expression turns cold and hard. How could they say such a thing to me? It’s not my fault that I cannot move. They are the ones who gassed me. They can’t blame me. I suck a deep breath of air to calm myself. I cannot let anger get the better of me.

“Is there anything else, sir?” the person I assume to be Riley answers.

“That is all. You are dismissed. Also, you may retire for the day once you complete the task at hand.”

“As you wish, sir. Thank you, sir.”

I hear the click of the lock and the door slides open. Footsteps echo throughout the room. It sounds like two sets of footsteps. So, there are two people here to bring me back to my ‘room’?

“Time to go,” he whispers into my ear.

One person lifts my arms and another, my legs, transferring me onto a stretcher. Or, at least, I think it’s a stretcher. I can’t open my eyes nor see what’s going on around me. I feel so blind, it’s infuriating.

I feel myself being carried out and away from the simulator. The two people who are transporting me are having a conversation, but I could not be bothered to listen in or eavesdrop. I did not have the strength to concentrate on it. Besides, I don’t think it’s of that much importance. For some reason, I feel drained.

They lower me onto the ground and soon, my whole body touches the hard, solid ground. The two carry me off the stretcher and onto the floor. My ear is pressed up against the cold tiles and my hands rest on the ground, my whole body limp and shaken.

And with that, they just walk away, out of the room and off to complete their own agendas, leaving me to suffer the emotional and physical agony that they have out me through merely minutes ago.



Hey guys. Here's Chapter 13. I don't really feel like saying much now so I hope you enjoyed this. Do vote, comment and follow me. :) Thanks. Have a great week guys. 

PS anyone wants a dedication?