EnderOni

Loop Four, Chapter Thirty Three: The White Room

EnderOni, Loop Four

Chapter Thirty Three:

The White Room

-...-

A soft humming sound came from his mouth, which for once gave off a feeling of being okay. Okay, but not any better. He laid on the floor, kicking his legs back and forth, into the air. In his hands, a crayon, and in front of him, a journal.

He didn't know quite why he liked the tone of the song he hummed, but he trusted that whatever it was, it was with good memories. It certainly wasn't from his past, he remembered most of that. Well, maybe his mother might have sung it when he was tiny, but he believed more or less that wasn't it. The song felt more...more human, but the kid had only spent one time around humans.

He missed them so dearly. He remembered that beautiful day outside, the last and only time he'd ever gone outside. It was on accident, a teleporting spell gone wrong. But there was a man in a purple robe that somehow spotted him, and invited him to...to this feast. A picnic, the boy thought the man called it. They were so nice to him, so friendly. He wished he could've stayed, because as the days went by in the mansion all along again, he began to crave them more and more. He didn't know it yet, but it would certainly lead him to do anything to see them again.

The drawings he drew in his journal were no different then that of a human 12 year old. Spending already a difficult and lonely two years in this trap allowed him a lot of time to catch up on his coloring skills though. I guess that's a fair trade for one's social skills.

The boy finished his drawing, and placed his crayon down within a pile of other crayons. He lifted his head up with a sigh, but then realized something. With a quick and somewhat painful gasp, the boy jumped to his feet, glancing everywhere.

He was in a white room. A white, almost square room. He hadn't been there before. The coldness and loneliness of the room struck him hardest, but there was no denying that the bright white gave off the feeling of being watched. His breathing became louder as he tried to overcome his fear. But he was no more then 12 years old. Tears came to his eyes. His allusion to being okay was torn apart again. There was no escaping the fact that you were alone, and forever will be. The others don't care for you, and you almost believe they aren't real. It wasn't hard to believe that anyone else in this mansion that looked like you, that were just like you, were only figments of your imagination. Your own magic, maybe. A way of coping with the fact that you will never ever come into contact with anyone else.

Suddenly there was a sound, like a splatter, and the boy jumped, looking back behind him. His eyes widen when he saw blood on the white wall, the number one. It wasn't long till he heard another, and another, and another. Numbers started splattering all over the walls and ceiling and floor. The room slowly turned into dots of red and white.

"M-Mamma." The boy sat in the corner, holding his book and crayons in his arms, his head hidden in his knees as they were pulled to his chest. He blocked out the sound of people dying over and over again. He'd rather hear the sound of his own tears.

There was no way out of the room. Not in the state of terror that corrupted the boy in the white room.

"So he sits alone in a room. Numbers appear in red every hour, and he has no clue why. They scare him. The poor child."

-...-

"Oh, well that's just fucking dandy."

Tyler frowned, pulling out the white lining of his pants pockets. He searched his figure for a small magic box but yet nothing came up. All eyes were on him, of course, and he looked like he'd just caused the death of everyone here.