The White Room

I awoke in a room of splendid white. My back ached and I strained against the rough padding of the bed I lay on. A faint ringing noise resonated throughout my head. I tried to remember the date but my thoughts raced past me. Only one memory remained: four walls painted dastardly pale.

I had awoken in this room yesterday. And the day before that. And the day prior. I dreaded waking up; the same confines of a room that was not my own acted as my only greeting. Halia had loved the mornings. She laughed and cheered along with the birds singing overhead. She reveled in the smell of the dawn air, punctuated by the new-fallen dew. Her smile shone brightest amidst the light of the rising sun. Oh, how I have missed her.

When had I first arrived here, I was sure that it was some sort of mistake. The Wardens insisted otherwise. They said that I was ill, that I required care. I knew of no such illness. I remember the fear that I felt then. Their false smiles could not hide the truth that I was being held captive. I had called out to Halia then. I yelled and shouted her name until my voice was no more. The Wardens insisted that she would come to visit me. They said that I could even return to her if my recovery went well. Neither has happened.

“Hey, you’re awake,” a cheery voice called from the door. A Warden entered the room. She was young, far younger than some others. Her face seemed innocent, but the Wardens were skilled at hiding away their true intentions. She smiled at me. For a second, her face appeared off: her eyes seemed empty, her mouth too wide to appear human, her teeth jagged and curved. She tilted her head. I looked away.

“You must be famished,” the Warden said. I barely grunted in response. She set a tray down on a nearby counter before attending to some of the consoles around the bed. “It’s your favorite, as always. Eggs and ham, just how you like them.”

Halia had always made great eggs and ham. I remember on one occasion asking her to teach me, but she laughed and told me that the best chefs never revealed their secrets.

“Plus, can’t have you besting me, now can I?” she had joked. I can still see the spark in her eyes.

 I stared at the food with wary eyes. It was far different from Halia’s. My stomach churned. I had refused to eat before, but the Wardens would not cease their demands. One of them had remarked that my chances of seeing Halia would be no more if I continued to refuse. I had swallowed my pride then but now, images of the Warden’s smile carved at my mind. With shaky hands, I reached for a fork and prodded at the mishap of food. Perhaps I could get away with not eating today.

“Not going to eat again?” the Warden asked, turning back to face me. Her bright voice bit at my ears. I tried my hardest to drown it out. “That’s two days in a row now. At least try something…” 

“Not hungry.”

“Well, I’ll leave it here if you change your mind,” the Warden sighed. She turned back around to face the consoles. I had averted one crisis, but her continued presence unnerved me. For what seemed like hours, she remained hunched over while observing the various screens. The Wardens usually never spent this much time in this room. I thought about questioning her but decided against it. I never understood or believed their answers anyways. 

“You’ll be getting some visitors today,” the Warden said. Her voice sounded almost as if she was singing. It disgusted me. I knew she was lying. There were never real visitors, only more Wardens. I remember once they had brought in a younger man. He was tall with brown flowing hair and blue eyes. They said that his name was Clay. They said that he was my son. I had stared at him blankly, and he stared right back. I knew that I didn’t have a son. Halia and I only had a daughter. We had called her Constance, Connie for short. Last I recall, she had just turned 8. Or, maybe it was 9. When I asked about her, the Wardens replied that she had visited me yesterday.

I glanced back at the young Warden. She held a small capsule in her hand, struggling to open it. Eventually, with one resounding twist, she pulled the white lid off, but not without spilling a handful of its contents. The small, white objects dropped to the floor, the echoes of their bounces rang loudly in my ears.

“Shit,” the Warden muttered. She quickly stooped below my eye line. I observed her with confusion. I don’t recall ever seeing a Warden make a mistake. “I’m sorry about that.”

“Sorry for what?” I asked reflexively. I instantly regretted it. 

“Huh?” the Warden responded. She raised her head to look at me. Her distorted smile returned and her voice regained its teasing tone. “For dropping your pills, silly.”

“My what?” Panic flooded into my head. 

“Your pills?” the Warden asked, her smile disappearing once again. Her expression morphed into something that I couldn’t understand. “You take them every day, remember?”

I struggled to piece together my memories, but nothing connected. Had I taken these pills yesterday? Surely I would have remembered them. A frightening thought developed. What if these pills were the reason I forget? What if they were the reason why I wake up every morning in this godforsaken room? They were the reason that Halia is only a memory. 

“No,” I said quietly. I will no longer succumb to the Wardens.

“Sir, you’re going to have to take these pills.” I could sense a hint of annoyance in her voice. “I have water if you need help.”

“No.”

“Look,” the Warden crossed her arms. She was no longer hiding her annoyance. I smiled at my small victory. “I can’t leave until you take ‘em.”

“No.” My voice grew louder. My resolve was strong. This would be my last day in this white room. This would be when I escape from this hell. I would see Halia again.

“Sir, please,” the Warden’s voice shifted again. It sounded tired, almost pleading. “I’m sorry that I lost my patience and I know you want me to get out of your way, so plea-”

“NO, NO, NO, NO!” I began shouting. I clawed at my ears to block out her voice. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw more Wardens enter into the room: a large, imposing man and an older woman. Their eyes were marked with fake concern. I would have to push past them to escape. It was now or never.

I pushed myself into a standing position on the bed. As I moved to jump off, my foot caught one of the railings and I tumbled off the side of the bed. A sharp pain jolted into my side as I hit the floor. I ignored it and lurched forward, grasping at the open door. I was so close. So close to freedom. So close to her. 

My Wardens were closer.

The tall Warden blocked my path and pulled me away from the door. I mustered all my remaining strength to push forward but he didn’t budge. I pounded against the large Warden, beating him to let me go. Yet, with each passing second, my fists became weaker and my blows became less frequent. Eventually, they stopped completely. Tears brimmed in my eyes. All I wanted was to see her again.

“Hurry,” the Warden said. Behind me, I could hear the others shouting.“I don’t want to risk hurting him anymore.” 

I tried to say that I didn’t need his pity but my voice failed to resonate. I turned to look at the other Wardens. I couldn’t read the older one’s expression but the younger one appeared as if she was fighting back tears of her own. She met my eyes. Her glance looked almost apologetic. Turning away, the young Warden opened a small package. She revealed a long needle and quickly siphoned off an unknown liquid into it. I was too defeated to feel afraid. Soon, I faded away, my memories dissipating alongside me.

While I floated in darkness, I dreamt of Halia. I dreamt of her long, flowing, brown hair that appeared almost golden in the rising twilight. I dreamt of her blue eyes which swirled like a typhoon caught at sea. I dreamt of her smile; how the corners of her lips would rise and how her eyes would shine ever so more brightly. I dreamt of her laugh; how her hands would hold onto her belly as if they would suppress her giggles and how her head would lean back, letting her hair flow even more freely.

As I dreamt, I relived our every moment. I remembered how we first met; how she had failed to hold in a chuckle as I tripped and fell while approaching her. I remembered our first date; how she had burned dinner so ended up running to a restaurant in the pouring rain. I remembered our wedding; how she had smiled, cheered, and cried all in a few minutes; how she looked absolutely stunning in an elegant dress of all white; how she joked that the best part of getting married wasn’t being with me, but rather “getting to dress in her favorite color.” I remembered when Connie was born; how even then, Halia’s smile and laugh failed to go away. I remembered her.

I awoke in a room of splendid white. My side ached as I strained against the rough padding of the bed. A faint ringing noise resonated throughout my head. I tried to remember the date but my thoughts raced past me. Only one memory remained: four walls painted dastardly pale.

An older woman that I didn’t recognize sat in the chair next to the bed. She wore a white blouse and her grey hair fell loosely around her shoulders. When I looked at her, she smiled. She said she knew me.