Twenty Rooms — Room 1 The Blue Room
Room 1 — Time 00:00
Pain. Who stuck a poker through my temples? Wait. Why are the lights off? Metal scrapes against wood. Standing, the world around me spins. A moment passes. Then two. Need to find light. The walls glide under my fingers as I search for a switch. One foot in front of the other. The noise follows every move I make. My left ankle protests. Whoa! Bits of metal bite my fingers as I hit the floor. What happened? An examination reveals the problem. A metal ring circles my ankle. Attached to the ring is a chain.
I follow the links back to the wall. Hugging my knees, my brain pounds as I wonder what could have put me in this situation. Who am I? My fingers take inventory. I am a woman wearing a short-sleeved shirt and cargo pants. The multiple pockets reveal nothing. All are empty. A flashlight would have been very helpful.
This time when I stand, my head doesn’t swim as much. I keep my left hand on the wall and follow the room in the opposite direction. One, two, three, four. I count my steps. Five, six, seven. Ouch! I kicked an adjoining wall. Steady, girl. It was seven feet from the start of the chain to this wall. How much is left? The pain ebbs in my toes. Eight, nine, ten. I recognize the tension on my ankle as the chain tightens behind me. Reaching out with my right hand, I stretch for the final inches.
What is this? Plastic. My heart beats faster. If I could only get an inch closer… Light floods the room. It’s blue. A naked bulb casts yellow light on electric blue walls. Even the ceiling is blue. The wood floor is dotted with blue. I hate blue. The declaration gave me comfort. I might not know who I was, but I had found one certainty in my life.
00:05
Four walls. One door. Two boarded up windows. A paint can. That was it. Unless you wanted to count the chain bolted into the wall. I couldn’t reach the door. If I wanted to escape, I needed to remove the shackle from my ankle. The paint can might be within reach. I cross the room, and kneel down. There is more of the blue paint still in the can. Lifting it up, something solid clinks inside. The surface of the paint is smooth. Eww. I thrust my fingers into the paint. Here it is. I grasp it. It’s one of those keys you use to remove the lid from the paint can. A type of can opener. I drop it on the floor to dry and wipe my fingers on my khaki pants. Hopefully, whenever I realize who I am, I discover I am not in charge of my own laundry.
While waiting, I examine the shackle. Similar to a handcuff, it has a large hole for a key. The can opener won’t work. I need something that looks more like a skeleton key. Scanning the room again, nothing jumps out which could be used. Until… maybe, just maybe. Using the opener, I pry the handle from the can. Bending it with my foot and blue fingers, I create a tool which could work.
00:15
Blood from where I stabbed a finger drips into a blue puddle and creates a purple swirl. My ankle is free. Chafed and swollen like my fingers, but movement is mine. Stepping gingerly on my ankle I try the door handle. It’s locked. I knew it wouldn’t be that easy. Bending over I peer through the keyhole. Blackness. The door’s hinges were on the other side. Not that I had anything strong enough to pry hinges loose. In the middle of the handle was a screw. A simple flat head screw. I return for my mangled lock pick and the can opener. Hoping to avoid picking the lock, I scrape paint off the tip of the can opener and slide it into the groove. Righty tighty, lefty loosey. I turn the screw to the left. Around and around it goes until I can continue with my fingers. A little more, a little more. The handle comes off in my hand. A little jiggling with my wire later, and the door swings open. I’m free.
00:20
A long corridor looms before me. In the dim light the shadow of several door handles are before me. Where am I? Who am I? Can I escape?
~~~~
“Subject exited Room 1 in twenty minutes. This is slower than expected, but still within parameters.”
