Chapter 1: The Room
"The sirens again." I muttered to my self.
Alarmed, the noise giving me a false sense of emergency. Its been a few days since the first time, I've woken up to the sounds of the shrieking sirens filling the halls outside and nearby rooms with high pitched tones. Five days ago, I awoke to the same loud noise. Nervous, sweating and frustrated inside the clinic bedroom with a head injury. It was the same now, however, there weren't any bandages on my head. the reverberations kept ringing inside my head. I never got used to it.
I eagerly looked at the door. Even though I've long realized that the door wouldn't open, from what I had inspected the security lock on the doors of the facility automatically lock themselves in case of emergencies.
My bed creaked.
I pulled myself towards the bedside, sitting at the edge while wondering—how did I end up here? or where am I? Confused, I ruffled my disheveled brown hair. "Argh!" I grunted painfully, as I felt the back of my head, swollen and tender. The pain reminded me of my head injury that hasn't fully recovered yet. I covered my ears in hopes of blocking out the blaring noises. The noises were a burden to my aching head.
Frustrated, I went for the door. It was only a few meters away from my bed. I peeked through the small blurred window—flashing neon red lights met my eyes, I flinched. Concentrating my vision: I saw the white hallway filled with blinking red lights, bits and pieces, here and there. Outlines of papers, documents, furniture were everywhere. Some doors left opened, it was chaos. I could tell people fled. Something must've happened before I was conscious.
Finally it was quiet.
My mind settled, its thoughts told me to open the door. I backed away from the window, and tried my hand anxiously onto the scanner. It felt like it was my millionth time doing this, I've tried so many times. To the point it made me anxious, frightened, jittery. What if?—I thought to myself, that I'd be spending the rest of my life here. Alone in this God forsaken enclosure. Now I knew what animals must've felt like stuck in Zoo's and cages. I shrugged off my negativity hoping that this time it might finally open.
Electronic beeping sounds filled the silence.
After a brief moment, a bright red light denied me of my intentions. Enraged, I kept slamming my hand on the panel out of desperation. Each pounding instilled a sense of dread within me. The thoughts of myself succumbing to dehydration and starvation—like a caged animal, scared me. what was I expecting?—I already knew it wouldn't open, but deep in my thoughts, I clung to the idea of freedom.
I had enough, my grumbling stomach reminded me of my hunger. Disheartened I turned away from the door, and eyed my surroundings. Beds were aligned from the far left of the room, all the way to the right. There was one open spot where a bed should be. The walls were white and clean, the interior was futuristic, metals used for furniture were chromatic in nature. The lights were lined along the corners of the ceiling, imbedded inside the walls. It looked more like a luxurious five-star hotel than a patients room except it had no windows. I fixated my gaze on the beds, while sluggishly walking along towards the end of the room. My left hand brushed by each bed railing, counting them to ease my exasperation.
"two, three, four, five." I whispered.
Seven beds in total, but only one of them was messy, used: it was mine. It had my name on a holographic plate above it. "Sylas Cree Illenium, patient no. seventeen". I must've been in an accident to be here. Each of the beds were a reminder that people were here, yet why was I the only one here?—like a prisoner in solitary confinement. I arrived calm, collected. In front of me stood a machine built into the wall, I timidly smiled at its presence. It was a sight for sore eyes. I neared the machine, peering at its buttons, so as to make a selection. I noticed an engraving along its serial number at the top.
"Food and Nourishment Auto-supplier (F.N.A.)."
The word "supplier" stuck with him. The thought of suppliers came to my head, they were people that provided resources from place to place. I for one, should know—when I was young my father had been working in a company. He was a distributor, but he always had a knack for machinery. he'd always fix appliances. People, and friends hired him as a handyman. He's the reason why I had become an engineer. The low growling sounds of my bowels took me back to reality. I shook my head, and gaze upon the selection again. There were three buttons: breakfast, lunch, dinner. I pressed the first button and looked upon the digital wall clock above it. "08:13" I read, it was still early. A winding sound started and the F.N.A. Slid down a tray covered with plastic wrap, the inside was moist from the heat of the food.
I was chowing down on the overbed table before I knew it. It was the best part of the day because I never felt alone. I shut my eyes and chewed slowly with every spoon full. The meals reminded me of times I ate with my family when I was younger. My mother would make my favourite, apple pies. My father on the other hand was busy sipping coffee. My silbings argued, I stopped their childish banter because I was the eldest. Those memories made me wish I remembered how I had ended up here. I tried recalling, but I couldn't. Anything later than past memories was a blur. My empty tray and foodless plate brought me back to my horrid reality. I stood up, picked up the tray alongside it's empty contents then proceeded to the F.N.A. beside it was a chute meant for disposal.
There I dropped it and went back.
Hours past since breakfast, and my stomach grumbled once more but only this time I wasn't hungry. It was already in the afternoon I had just done lunch. I went to the rest room. It was times like this that I was reminded that I'm lucky enough to have a working restroom. After I did my business it was already "02:34". There was a digitalized clock on the mirror to its left side, it caught my eye because of its neon red color. I set aside my glasses—dipped my hands into the sink and cupped my hands, it filled with water. I splashed it on my face. Staring into my reflection, I looked so lifeless. My eyes were tired, it had bags underneath. My hair was shaggy all the way to my shoulders. I was a mess, and worn the same clothes since day one. A white long sleeved shirt and black cargo pants marked with small letters that spelled out "ENGR" on its right side. I never thought that being isolated affected my state so much. I went out.
At times I struggled with entertaining myself. Since I was stuck in this room, for patients with all the beds, I.V. Stands, and charts. Especially now, I needed to distract myself from the silence. There wasn't anything at first glance in the room, but throughout the days, I managed to scrounge up some items. I found papers and some pens, along side some books with different topics, glow in the dark playing cards, an electric igniter, and a bunchload of all sorts of random items that people left here. They were all bundled up on the bed next to mine.
In front of my overbed table, and sitting on the comfort of my own bed while reading. My mind drew constant thoughts of the isolated situation I was in. I couldn't help it. The silence grew, slowly haunting me. I forcefully diverted my attention onto the book, trying to ignore my loud thoughts. My mind blanked out—The silence felt unbearable to me, it felt as though my skin was crawling out of desperation. I was in a trance, thoughts bombarded my head. Each constant bombardment of explosions emerged stronger, and louder by the second. Slowly closing in my vicinity. I felt powerless, trapped in my own mind. Bang! the sound of the metallic table echoed inside the room. As I dropped my head on top of the book. Hoping I would gain control. It had already been five days since the first time I woke up. At the start I could tolerate it, and I would. The following days I had a hard time dealing with the silence. I gripped my hair. my face contorted out of pain, and confusion. Tears rolled down my face. I couldn't take it anymore.
My distress fueled tears stopped as I heard a faint and clear voice that echoed across the room.
CREATORS' THOUGHTS 
EldritchTheDead
EldritchTheDead This is my first time writing. Hope you readers like it.
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