Blackout. [COMPLETED]

Blackout.

Waking up to bright light in a white room wasn’t unfamiliar to me. I had a single, vivid memory of my bedroom, furnished and painted 'egg shell white', without any curtains on the windows. It was the fluorescent, angelic glowing panels on the ceiling and the large straps around my legs, waist and arms that were holding me down which seemed unusual. I had a throbbing pain in my left temple, which ached as I looked around the room, creating a shadow in my peripheral vision that I couldn't decipher as real or imaginary. Apart from the bed I was strapped to and a small table in the opposite corner, the room was empty. I didn’t even have a pillow. If this was Heaven, they were lacking in the comfort department.

The floor, walls and ceiling were painted glossy white, and a small window to my side had some sort of cover over it, to make it translucent. The table opposite me had a single flower in a small vase on it. It was quite beautiful, actually, in a twisted sort of way.

Noticing an irritating itch in my calf, I tried to wriggle my leg to ease it. However, this movement seemed to cause the straps to consequently tighten on my legs and disable me further, leaving the itch unscratched.

“Nurse,” I choked as I felt my feet begin to throb. “Nurse, I think my blood supply is… I think there’s an issue with it... There’s a problem with my foot.” My throat felt hoarse and dry as I coughed out the brief sentences, but upon further inspection there didn’t seem to be any water in the room at all. In fact, even the wilting flower was sitting in a dry glass vase.

“And I’m thirsty, too, by the way.” I may as well kill two birds with one stone.

The room was deeply silent. I had no idea if anybody could hear me or not.

Within seconds, a voice echoed through my room like they do in big apartment stores when somebody has lost a child. It had eerie elevator music playing in the background.

“Madam, someone will be right with you. While you wait, please be sure to enjoy the view from your window and try to stay calm.”

The recording crackled briefly before cutting out and the room was flooded with silence once more. I looked towards the window again and, confident that there was no possibility I would be able to see anything recognisable through it despite their suggestion, I closed my eyes.

After several minutes, a woman slowly opened a large white door that, when closed, was so similarly painted to the wall that it was almost invisible. I couldn’t raise my head, but I saw her hurrying around the room holding a small plastic cup. She came over to me and pushed a button on the side of my bedframe which caused the entire mattress to lift me into a sitting position. I looked into the empty, grey eyes of the nurse and gave a weak smile, which she returned.

“So, what's all this?” I asked, after taking a sip from the luke warm water in the cup. She smiled again and let out an exasperated sigh, as if I had said it sarcastically or told her a joke, and she turned away to fiddle with some buttons above my head. I was lowered back down and the straps loosened slightly. I didn’t bother asking twice, I doubted that she would tell me. She pulled a leaflet out of her pocket and held it in front of me.

“What’s this advertising?” I asked uneasily.

“Here,” she replied, stuffing it back into her pocket.

“We’re in… a mental asylum,” I mumbled. She nodded. “But I’m not mental.”

She sighed. “Yes, of course you aren’t.” It didn’t sound particularly sarcastic, nor did it sound sympathetic. The only emotion through the monotone phrase was the pity in her eyes. I looked away.

“I don’t know why I’m here though, I don’t even remember getting here. I can’t remember anything,” I muttered nervously, the image of my bedroom becoming morphed with the image of the room I was in now. I was suddenly aware of the pain in my temple again.