I sit in this room wondering if I’ll ever get out, which the answer is probably no. I probably only have a few hours left, as I haven’t drank anything for the past few days. This world really is cruel, huh? Sends a kid that has barely lived life to their painful death alone with only a journal. Guess I should write down what happened, in case anyone does find this and if you do find this, then you have most likely found yourself in the same situation I have.
Well, in our civilization, children from age sixteen and under have to face their greatest fear in a monitored, computer generated room and aren’t allowed out until they face their fears. Said room generates whatever the kid’s worst fear is, whether that is spiders, water, or heights. However, no one has ever died in the room. Well, until now I guess.
So I was living a very normal life. You know the drill, goes to school, has an average group of friends. Basically your average teenager. Looking back I should’ve enjoyed it while I had it.
As the years went by, more and more kids took the test. Some took it when they were twelve, others at fourteen. But, I never took it. I didn’t know what I truly feared, and wouldn’t know until the room showed me. I was terrified of what the room would morph into, not wanting to know what darkness hid in the back of my mind, waiting to be unleashed upon me. So I waited, watching as the kids of my school slipped into and then out of the test room. And soon, I was the only one left who hadn’t taken the test.
This fact made life both in school and at home very hard. Fifteen and three quarters old, and I never even once considered going near that room. In school, I was bullied and ridiculed by nearly every kid, being called a coward and weak and at home a disappointment. My parents were ashamed to have the weakling of the town, hiding me and telling me to toughen up. And the fact even my own parents believed that hurt.
Nearing my sixteenth birthday, I knew I’d have to take the test. I tried getting ready mentally for whatever was waiting for me, creeping in the back of my mind. Before I knew it, my birthday was the next day. The night before, I took a long shower to clear my mind and packed a small bag, it’s contents merely a little picture of my family, some spare shoes, and the journal being used to write this. I went to sleep that night hugging my pillow in fear.
The day had come and I woke up early to get it over and done with quickly, so I could go home and relax without the shadows of the night creeping in.
I’m ready. I am ready. I told myself. I allowed myself to hope. Stupid hope it was. I grabbed the bag I prepared the night before, and went to the building where the tests were held.
The workers led me into the testing room entrance and told me to just enter the room. It would know what to do. I nodded nervously in agreement. This is the moment that all my years of life has been building up to. The day I turned from a scrawny little wimpy boy, to a man. I took my first steps into the room and the doors slammed shut behind me, pulling off a few strands of loose hair.
I looked in the dark, eerie room, the only sound in the room being my breathing and heartbeat. The blank room was deciding what nightmare to turn into.
As I waited for some horror to start crawling out the walls, the room turned into the entrance door.
Huh? I thought. I walked to the door and went through the entrance. And it opened to the entrance again. I looked behind and the door I just went through was gone. Again, I went through the door and it was the same as before.
Wait, what? I’m stuck in the room? I thought to myself, then it hit me. My worst fear wasn’t spiders, deep vast waters, or sickening heights. It was the room. I decided to try the door again and it opened into the empty black room, undecided and blank. And, you guessed it, the door was gone. Only this time it was the endless black of the room, and only that. No entrance, no exit. And the worst thing was, I was still scared. And it won’t let me out if I’m still scared.
Which brings me to where I am. Cowering in a dark corner, afraid. You can call me a coward all you want, but I don’t care, if I live of course. This final experience has made me realize something. I was never going to make it from the moment my parents told me about this room. From that moment those words left their mouths, I was destined to die here. So all I can say is goodbye.