>You open your eyes, for what seems like the first time in a while.
>Your body feels stiff, as you sit up.
>Looking around the room, you see...
>Nothing. It's a white room.
>Not like one you would see in a crazy house. No, it's not padded, and there's no bed. Only a chair.
>No windows, no doors.
>Nothing. You walk around the room, questions running though your head.
>Then, a big one strikes you.
>Who ARE you? What are you?
>A human. That one was easy. But...your name, it evades you. Your personality, it flees from your grasp. Your age, too, will not show itself to you..
>What you are, not biologically, but... what you have MADE yourself in life. It's... just not there.
>All gone. Everything that made you, you... is gone.
>You start to panic, hyperventilating.
>This isn't a great way to start.
>Air, the air is getting thin.
>No, this... this isn't right!
>As fast as you can manage, you bang your head against a wall, but nothing happens.
>No pain, no sound, just… nothing.
>You try to let out a scream, but again, no sound.
>This room. This god damn room!
>You wrap your hands around your throat, as more air leaves your body.
>Your eyes start feeling like lead, and close.
>As soon as you woke up, you pass out again.
 
>"Wake up." said a voice
>You turn your head, ignoring the voice. You want to be alone. You want to stay there, and wither away.
>"It's okay, I wont hurt you" said the voice.
>It sounded warm, and kind, yet soft.
>But, you still wanted nothing to do with it. You don't know how to answer it, or rather, how you used to answer it.
>You’re at a loss for words.
>You feel something touch your side.
>You slap at it with your hand, and curl into the fetal position.
>"It seems scared..." said another voice.
>"Poor thing, it looks like it has been though a lot." Replied the first voice.
>You feel something else. Not a touch, but... warmth.
>Rolling on to your back, you open your eyes, only to see...
>The room. The white room.
>The warmth is gone, and there is no one in the room.
>Another thing is... You weren't on the floor.
>No, you were in the chair, in the fetal position.
>How you didn't feel this, was beyond you.
>And how you felt the warmth of the sun was also beyond you.
>You steel yourself, as you let your eyes wander the room.
>Before, you didn't really examine the room much before you panicked, so you didn't notice a timer.
>It's just there.
>On a wall in front of the chair.
>It's counting down; it has what looks like 3 days left on it.
>Three days until what? What will happen in three days? Will you die? Will the room open?
>You pass the time, wandering the room, wishing you had something to do, thinking about what happened before you opened your eyes.
 
>The interactions, the feeling. You FELT the contact you made with the person.
>You felt something hard in that quick second you slapped them away.
>Your eyes, keep on glancing back to the timer.
>Hours pass, and still nothing. You recall nothing.
>The meaning of the count down scares you, as the unknown always had.
>Always had? What is that supposed to mean?
>You know nothing of yourself. yet that. You know that.
>It feels instinctive. Like it's part of yourself, or at least. What's there.
>You try to sigh, but this room seems to eat sound. All you get is the gesture.
>12 hours of wandering have passed, you feel tired, not from the walking, no. Just mentally exhausted.
>You lie down on the floor, and soon fall asleep.
>You hear sobbing.
>"Wake up already..." Said a cracking female elderly voice.
>The sound of a steady "beep” of a heart monitor in the background
>You feel her shake you.
>"You're my son, I won't let you leave!" said the voice, distressed.
>You feel a weight on your stomach, as if someone has their head on it.
>It seems this person is your mother. You wish you could recall what you used to call her. Or her name. But all you call from your memories are blanks.
>The voice, now muffled speaks once more. "Wake up, *********"
>Your eyes jut open.
>Did... did she say your name? It was garbled... You think she did, but... Crap.
>You rub your head, trying to sort these thoughts. She was obviously sad about you.
>You wanted to comfort her, but your body wouldn't listen.
>And then, there was the weight. You don't normally feel weight in dreams... do you?
>No, that's not right... It was just like the first one.
>You look up to the timer.
 
>You had slept for a good 10 hours.
>The clock now displayed 43:49:02.
>The seconds slowly ticking away.
>The question of what will happen is in your mind again, festering.
>You get up out of the chair, and start roaming the room, again stewing in your thoughts.
>You wish there was something better to do.
>You wish you were OUT of this damn room. You want your memories back; answers for all the questions in your head.
>In the little tantrum, you punch the wall. You punch with what you think is all you can.
>Again, and again. You punch the wall.
>Exhaustion is not coming, you feel no difference. You keep on beating the wall.
>No pain, sound, or... anything. No damage to the wall, or your fist.
>You can FEEL the contact with the wall, and by every right, you should feel the pain that follows.
>You expect it, you WAIT for it. But it never comes.
>You stop hitting the wall and simply stand there, head hanging low.
>A new thought takes over.
>You raise your head, and walk back to the chair.
>It's a rather large wooden chair.
>Never really took note on it.
>But for what you want, it works.
>You grab the chair, and lift it over your head
>Aiming at the timer on the wall, you throw the chair, screaming.
>It flies though the air, and hits the timer, but simply bounces off, as if made of rubber.
>Your screams and the sound of the chair colliding with the wall, unvoiced as the room yet again ate the sound.
>The chair is undamaged, and so is the timer.
>You walk to the chair and pick it up again.
>Grabbing it at the top, you begin trying to smash it on the ground.
>Nothing happens.
>It stays intact, and you, at the same level of stamina
 
>Distraught at this, you begin running at the wall, knowing full well nothing will happen.
>You charge at them, ramming them with your shoulder screaming, hollering for freedom, only for your voice to be stolen by the damn room.
>Three times you charge the walls, three times you failed.
>You turn, back against the wall, weeping, confused, lonely, and seemingly tired.
>Glancing at the clock...
>That can't be right.
>10 hours could not have gone by so fast, you only just woke up.
>At least... You think you did. Everything is so damn blurry.
>You stay at the wall, and roll onto your side, closing your eyes, trying to get some sleep.
>Hopefully, you may get some answers in your dreams.