Endless Room

My eyes widened as I slowly emerged from a fog of grogginess, finding myself in a cold and unfamiliar room. Confusion danced with disorientation, and my heart beat deepened into my chest cavity. There were no windows, no doors—just solid, unforgiving concrete, stark fluorescent lighting above my head and a bare bed in the room's centre. Solid dark metal framed it's edge as I lay on a crisp white sheet trying to focus my thoughts.

"Hello?" I called out hesitantly, my voice reverberating through the room with no response. The sharp resonance ricocheted off the walls until it faded into silence. There was no hint of any other sound, no flicker of light, no trickle of water, nor footsteps echoing down a hall. Panic began to rise within me, and desperation urged me to pound on the unyielding surface, hoping for any sign of escape, even just a crack. Yet, the room remained unmoved, its mysteries concealed within the uniformity of its structure.

As I frantically darted from the bed to walls and back, a piece of paper fluttered down from the beds edge. It lay there, waiting to reveal its message. A hidden secret that may reveal the confusion of my torment, but I was too consumed with my terror to notice. I continued to try and find escape as the folded paper lay still on the floor.

Suddenly, a hiss—the air thickened, gas filled the room. A bitter and pungent scent invaded all my senses, as I coughed trying to find breath. Darkness followed rapidly, wrapping me in its suffocating embrace.

I awoke once more in the cold and unfamiliar room. On the same crisp white sheet, on the bed with solid dark metal frame. It wasn't a dream. “HELP!” I screamed, again receiving no response as my voice bounced off the walls. The echo seemed to dart around with increased speed, lingering in the air for what seemed like an eternity, deepening my sense of loneliness. Panic surged anew as I dashed around the room, my movements frantic and futile. The folded paper lay ignored at the end of the bed, its secrets still unknown.

Gas. Darkness. Awakening. Gas. Darkness. Awakening.

Each cycle repeated, a cruel carousel of fear and hopelessness. I dropped my head, crushed and subdued, droplets of sorrow rolling down my cheek, and there it lay. The folded paper at the end of the bed, luring me to discover its secrets. My trembling fingers picked up the paper, unfolding its damning message.

"I know it was you. Enjoy your last minute."

Terror coiled around my heart, squeezing out any last vestiges of hope I had. Gas seeped into the room, a sinister prelude to the inevitable darkness. I readied myself, knowing what was to come. As my breaths slowed and my vision dimmed, I realised the truth. This was it.

I woke once again in the cold embrace of the concrete room, on the single bare bed with crisp white sheets and cold metal frame. The folded paper beckoned to me, like death himself knocking down my door. I grasped it in my trembling hands, accepting my fate—a purgatory of my own making.

As the gas filled the room, and darkness descended, I closed my eyes, welcoming the oblivion that awaited. I was condemned to repeat these same 60 seconds. Like a broken record skipping to the middle after the end, not being able to hear the music in it's entirety. Not being able to know the story from the beginning. Not being able to know the reason why.

For in this endless cycle, there was no escape, no redemption. Only the cold embrace of eternity.