White Room

About a girl/woman fron the slums somewhere who is brought to a ... place. possibly a mystery or crime story

 

White Room

Waking up in a white room-in a white bed with crisp white sheets and a soft, white pillow-was a massive shock.
As soon at my eyelids had reluctantly eased apart, I gasped aloud and stared with eyes now wide open.

Where am I?

I leapt out of the bed and ran to the solid white door. It was locked! There were no windows, nothing that gave me any idea of where I was. The walls and roof were solid, no flimsy cardboard or rotting wood crates, not a speck of dirt in sight! I went back to the clean, bug-free bed, lay down and closed my eyes. Maybe this is all just a dream, this strange empty prison of a room wasn't real.

When I finally opened my eyes again, I was still in that same blindingly white room. The only difference was that somebody had left a tray of food on the floor by the door. It was the strangest but most wonderful looking food i had ever seen! There were bright succulent mango slices, freshly baked bread and sweet tender chunks of some kind of meat in brown, lumpy sauce. To wash the glorious feast down, there was a paper cup of a water.

The water was clean! It was so clear, I couldn't see a trace of dirt, It was amazing! I never thought that water could possibly be that clean! By the time I had satisfied my aching stomach for the first time in my entire life, the door whipped open and a group of three men strode in. They were dressed in a foreign uniform, of which I had never seen. Two of them lifted me up by my scawny arms and half dragged me down a long, stained white room.

There were doors along the walls, leading who knows where. I was far too terrified of these men even to try and struggle. I let them take me through an open metal door, about halfway down the long room. They practically threw me in, then pressed a round, yellow button on the wall beside this room's door. Steel doors slid shut with a whining sound. as far as i could see, nobody had touched them! This must be electric, I thought. I had heard of the powers of electric, but never really believed they could move heavy metal doors. It had seemed like a fairytale, like magic. Anyhow, I was shut in a tiny room, grey in colour, at least it wasn't white. I crouched in the corner, waiting for the doors to open again, when I felt a sickening jolt, and felt a nauseating sensation, almost as if I was moving, but of course I knew I wasn't. The doors opened, and my eyes widened as I saw that it wasn't the same place they opened to. Somehow, I was now facing a magnificent sight of colours and leisure beyond my wildest dreams! There were couches of puffy purple leather, curtains of embroidered blue and green silk, and walls of chalky, pale blue stone. Waiting for me, right outside the tiny grey room, were three more men and a sinister looking woman. The woman stared at me for a moment, then gestured to one of the men. He spoke to me in one strange language, then another before he said "Welcome to the home of Isha. Sit there." and pointed to a comfortable looking couch in the middle of the room. I started, uncertainly, to hobble across to it, head held down. I sat.

The woman sat opposite me and passed me a drink of nauseatingly sweet liquid, which I drank despite its foulness, because I was so thirsty. One of the men sat beside her and put an arm around her waist. It was evident that neither of them could speak my language, and they simply pointed at a glass and plastic thing on the wall. I thought it was a picture at first, because it portrayed an image of some strange symbol. Then the picture moved. I involuntarily screamed and jumped off the couch! The two men grabbed me and gently sat me back down. I peered back at the moving picture, thinking that it must be another kind of electric. It now showed a very young girl crying in the dirty streets of a place that looked all too familiar, my home. She was covered in dirt and was obviously sick and starved. I had never seen her face before, but I instantly recognised her from the ugly looking scar on her left leg. It was a long jagged symbol.

It was the signature of the dreaded killer gang of my home. I gasped and the woman reached across and touched my bare arm. I flinched violently and covered the gruesome scar on my leg.

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[Elysia]

to be continued... and maybe made into a book