Tiles

The hallway is as it has always been. It has a slight yellow tinge from years and years of existing. The linoleum tiles squeak as I make my way towards the break room. I remember the day I first walked down this hallway. It was less dingy then, and I didn't really know where I was going. My first day was rough and I got lost quite a few times before finding the break room.  Little did I know, eight years later I would have every single crack and mold spot memorized.
It takes exactly 27 steps to get from my desk to the break room. I must have counted a million times. Sometimes it was 28 steps, but that was only on Mondays. On Fridays it was 26, but every other day of the week, it was exactly 27 steps. I am feeling rather peppy today, it being a Friday and all. As I always have, I count each step on the way to the break room. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. I look up and the break room is still five feet away. 27. 28. 29. 30. Huh, that's not right. It has never been 30 steps, especially not on a Friday. I go back to my desk and count again. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. I watch each step with extreme focus to assure I make no mistake. Glancing up, I am perfectly in the entrance of the break room.
Alarms sound in my brain. The exactness of everything in my life, the day-to-day consistency has been shattered. I am trying my very best to ignore this impossible paradox. I give in. Looking down the hallway, I desperately observe every nook and cranny to see what could possibly cause an anomaly such as the lengthening of a hallway. I angle my eyes from the door of the break room towards my desk and the corners where the hallway begins. Sweeping back and forth, I scan the floor, counting each stained, linoleum tile. There have always been 325 tiles. I count 375. Impossible. How could there possibly be more tiles. There haven't been any renovations in the last 20 years. Just yesterday I counted 325. What else can I count? How can I know what is going on here? Doors! I count the doors. There's the break room, the conference room, the copy room, and the Executive office. There should be four doors. There's five.
My head is spinning. Five doors, 50 extra tiles, four extra steps. All of my numbers, the only things that keep me together, are flying out the window. I look at the door for answers. It is exactly like all the others, with peeling black paint and an old, frosted window. A blurred form seems to approach from the other side. Someone is there. Someone is behind that door. I look down the hallway. Everyone who clocked in today is at their cubicles. The Boss doesn't come in on Fridays. There is no way the person behind that door is someone who works here. My brain is a mess; I need answers.
I gingerly start to approach the door. The form on the other side grows closer as well.
"Tap Knock Knock"
I jump.
"Is someone there? Help me!" says the muffled voice through the frosted glass. The handle violently jiggles as someone tries to turn it from the other side. It's locked.
    "Hello?" I respond hesitantly. "Where did you come from? I've never seen this door before."
"I have no idea where I am or how I got here." The blurred form says in a desperate, scared voice. "I don't even know where here is."
My brain wants to lock up, escape from this perplexing situation, but I feel compelled to help this person. I will do as much as I can.
    "What is your name? What's the last thing you remember?" I say, trying to gather some sort of information that can shine light on the situation.
"Janet, my name is Janet. All I know is one moment I was at my daughter's graduation and I blinked. As soon as I opened my eyes again, I was in this room. You have to help me, please."
I can hear her hands gently pounding on the door. She sounds so scared, I have to help her.
    "Okay Janet, I'm-I'm Devin. Devin Gregory. This is Sternan's Law Firm. I have no idea how this is even possible, but I promise I will do everything in my power to get you out of there." I mash together as many comforting words as I can.
"Can you describe to me your surroundings Janet?" That could help, Right? I mean, that's what the cops always ask people in the movies. Maybe it will work in real life.
    "It kind of looks like an office, but all of the furniture is gone. The only thing in here is a light hanging from the ceiling." She says in a slightly more muffled voice as she turns to look around her.
    "And you're sure the door is locked?" I inquire, already knowing the answer.
She jiggles the knob. I turn it three times back and forth. All attempts are unsuccessful.
"Just try to stay calm and I will go get one of my co-workers." I try to sound like I know what I'm doing, but none of my co-workers will believe me. They all despise me. They think I'm crazy because of my numbers. Maybe I can convince them.
"Don't leave me" Janet yells hysterically. I want to stay with her, but I know we need help.
"I promise I will be right back with help," I yell as I walk towards the cubicles.
    My brain is running like crazy. What could possibly explain this situation? Nothing, absolutely nothing. Not even the numbers make sense.
I enter the office room and attempt to explain the problem to my various, not-too-fond-of-me co-workers. After a few remarks of "Shut up Devin, you're just crazy.", I finally convince Denise to come see what I'm talking about.
    "See, it's right there, this door has never been here before." I say, gesturing towards the door containing Janet.
    "What door?" Denise replies looking confused and annoyed.
    "That one right there!" I say, exasperated. Somehow I think that making even more dramatic hand gestures will help her see the door.
    "Devin," She gives me an almost pitying look. "You are gesturing at a blank wall. Are you finished with your escapades now, because I am going back to my desk."
    "No, Wait! Listen, there is a women trapped in there, I'll have her talk to you." I turn to the door. "Janet? I need you to make some loud noise to prove to my coworker that you are here, can you do that for me?"

    "Help! Help me I'm in here! I'm trapped, please help me!"
Janet yells for help as loud as she can. She bangs on the door, shaking it violently. I can hear her very clearly. I turn towards Denise.
    "Well, do you believe me now?" I try to refrain from saying 'I told you so'.
    "Devin, I hear nothing at all, I am going back to work now and I suggest you do as well."
This is ridiculous. How did she not hear that yelling, Janet was practically screaming. I must be dreaming. This is just too weird to be real.
"Devin?" Janet says in a frightening tone. "You promised you would get me out of here." She sounds terrified. "I have to see my baby girl again, she is graduating college today. I can't lose her. She can't lose me. You are my only chance of getting out of here. Please."
My heart breaks.
"I will get you out of there Janet, I have an idea." I run to the janitor's closet as fast as I can. 'There's no time for counting steps right now' I tell my brain as it screams at me to follow the rules. I grab a hammer and a screwdriver and race back to the door.
"Janet, I got some tools and I'm going to get you out of there."
"Hurry! The light is flickering, It's going to go out. You have to get me out of here. I'm so scared" Her voice shook like an earthquake.
    I use the screwdriver to remove the door knob on my side as fast as I can.
    "Ok Janet, stand back, I'm going to punch through the lock with a hammer."
   
    My mind is racing. I have to get this lady out. I jam the end of the hammer through the hole and the knob on the other side. The lock brakes just as the light goes out on the other side. Janet screams, but I don't know whether it's out of joy or fear. I whip open the door.
    "We did i..."
I stare at a blank wall. There is nothing behind the door. No Janet. No room. No light. Nothing. Just the old, stained wall. I bang with my fist as hard as I can. "Janet, Janet where are you?" My fist repeatedly hits the wall. This is impossible. She was right there. I could see the light. I could hear her voice. I could see the door shake when she rattled the knob. There's no way that she is gone. I was the only chance she had. What if I had gotten the tools sooner? What if I had acted faster? I could have saved her.
I can still save her.
    I hit the wall as hard as I can. Maybe if I can pull the drywall down. I can still get to her. I punch through. I tear down the drywall and pull out as much insulation as I can. I can't let her down. She needs me. I'm her only chance at seeing her daughter again. I didn't ignore everything I live by, just to give up this easy. I can't hear anything around me. Tears are streaming down my face. I can hear myself screaming "Janet, Janet," but it sounds far away. Someone, grabs my arms, but I try to keep digging. I have to save her. I can't quit now. It's not too late. I'm being dragged away. I try to fight, but security is bigger than me. I try to clear my eyes. I blink. She can't be gone. I have to prove I'm not crazy. I know what I saw. I know what I heard. I know what I counted and the numbers can't be wrong. As they drag me out of the hallway, I frantically try to count the tiles. 322. 323. 324. 325. It was the normal number; I should have been satisfied with that number. It was as it had always been. It was ridiculous to think that a hallway could have more tiles than it always had. I caught one final glance at the wall where janet was. There was no door. Only a hole in the wall and a heap of drywall and insulation on the floor. It couldn't be. The numbers never lie. I never count wrong. I triple check everything. I know what I saw.
    The security finally drags me out of the building. They take me to the hospital. I can't stop the tears. I can't stop saying her name
    "Janet, Janet."
The nurse cleans and bandages my hands, but I'm not paying much attention. They give me a cup of painkillers. I don't have the energy to organize them by color. I dump them into my mouth, defeated. My eyes are swollen shut from crying. My brain is scrambled. I can make no more sense of the world. My rules no longer apply. Nothing can help me manage anymore.
     A doctor leads me into the psychiatric ward. I am shown to my new room. I sit down on the bed. I try to count the tiles. I can't.