So I...

The Beginning

The dove told me that the lion is bad. The lion told me that the zebra is bad. The zebra told me that the cat is bad. The cat told me, no, the rabbit is the worst of them all. So I...
Your story begins in a dark purple painted room with dark oak floors, four book shelves lining the back wall, a kingsized bed in the northwestern corner of the room making the room look bigger than it really was and in the southeastern corner of the room was a writing desk with a pile of papers on the left corner of the desk. A white haired woman sat at the writing desk talking to a (your hair colour) (your gender pronoun) child.
"... So that's roughly how life will be for you here. If you don't understand, there's a note in your room that explains it all again. No one will ask anything of you here. There are a few things to keep to, but it should be a peaceful life. In addition... here." The white haired woman said as she gave you a (your favourite colour) (favourite design) well taken care of notebook.
"Your own personal notebook. Use it however you like. For sad or for happy times. Just write down any feeling you have and give it to me, would you?" The woman asked tilting her head showing her snow white eyes.
"Okay." You simply replied.
"Ha ha, but one of the children just likes to draw in it. That's fine by me, too. Now, there's still time before dinner. You should greet the other children. Leave and go straight left, and you'll find your rooms. They're all good children. It may not be immediate, per se, but you'll get along, I'm sure." The woman stated cheerfully almost jumping out of her seat.
"What do I call you?" You asked.
"... Ah, just call me Administrator, Admin for short. I look forward to having you here, (Your Name)." Administrator answered.
You decided to take a look at the four shelves of books placed at the back of the room. Nothing interested you.
You entered a plain white room with only an oak dinning table that seats fourteen and a fireplace holding a warm fire offering light and heat to the room.
You decided to warm up by the fireplace. You notice the fire isn't too hot, but just perfect.
You look at a map of a unknown world. It reminds you of something, but you don't remember where. You consider it a strange design and move on.
You enter the most completely plain and boring entrance hall you've ever encountered considering it only held a disconnected phone and a staircase. You wondered why it was that way.
You head up the stairs encountering the storage rooms' white walls of a tornado of a complete mess.
You decided to look at the many books that line the walls. You notice they look as if they've been tossed into place.
You find a beautiful red butterfly in a glass case in the centre of the room. You recognize it, but can't remember the butterfly specimen.
You enter the house's personal library noticing it's plainness as every other room. Books lined the walls and strangely a black and red leather couch sat in the middle of it.
You found an already lit candle sitting in the middle of a coffee table in front of the couch. Considering it's the library you decide to look at the books. Nothing interested you until you got to the last section of shelves.
"... Books on illness?" You questioned.
You entered a black room with dark oak floors, a dark oak writing desk sat in the northeastern corner of the room, a bookshelf stood beside the writing desk, a black ebony piano along with a small bed with black bedding.
"Hello." You said to the black haired boy sitting at the piano.
"... ... ... ... ... ... ..." He stayed silent.
"Um, hello?" You questioned the boy.
"Oh. That's... odd. That you can speak. Probably because you don't really... feel like you're alive." The silver eyed boy said turning around finally realizing you were real.
"Okay. I'm (your name)." You said weirded out by what the boy had said.
"... (Your name), is it. I'm Arris. ..." The boy named Arris introduced himself standing up extending his hand as if he was trying to determine whether or not if you were truly alive. You shook his hand anyway.
You notice the books, but nothing pops out. You notice Arris waiting for you to notice the piano. You decide to play Arris' piano.
You play (your favourite song), a song that seems familiar, but you can't remember how it is familiar to you.
Your piano skills seemed to impress Arris. You notice a list hanging in a golden frame on the wall. You decide to look at it.