Arthur's eyes fluttered open, his head spinning with a dizzying velocity, as if a tornado had ravaged his mind. His body ached with a deep-seated pain, like he'd been struck by a speeding truck. His gaze met the cold, unforgiving glare of an almost vacant square white room. The walls seemed to close in around him, their sterile surfaces reflecting the harsh fluorescent light above.
The room was sparsely furnished, with only a small, metallic table at the front, adorned with a tiny bottle resembling a medicine vial. In the far left corner, an electric chair loomed, its presence menacing, like a specter of death. The air was heavy with the pungent scent of disinfectants, reminiscent of a hospital's antiseptic aroma. The silence was eerily maddening, punctuated only by the soft hum of the fluorescent lights, their gentle buzz grating against Arthur's frazzled nerves.
His mind was a jumble of confusion and frustration as he struggled to recall how he'd ended up in this desolate place. His memories seemed shrouded in a thick, impenetrable fog, making it difficult to think or remember anything beyond his own name. The only thing he could recall with clarity was the overwhelming urge to escape, to flee from a life that had become too difficult to bear.
In a cramped, squalid apartment room, reeking of rotting food and stagnation, flies buzzed over the mountain of dirty dishes on a table beside his bed. The bed itself was a mess, with dirt-sculpted outlines on the outside of the blankets, and a tangled mess of wrappers, empty bags, and crumbs scattered across its surface. Arthur sat on the edge of the bed, his back against the wall, in a dirt-stained white underwear, his eyes sunken, cheeks hollowed out, and hair in matted clumps and knots, looking like it hadn't been washed in ages.
As he sat on the bed, his gaze drifted listlessly to the ground in front of him, where empty bottles of various medications lay scattered, a testament to his desperate attempts to escape the darkness. His feet seemed rooted to the spot, surrounded by the detritus of his struggles. He slowly rose, his movements eerily slow, as if trudging through quicksand. His vision narrowed, tunneling towards the window, his sole focus.
He finally reached the window, his movements slow and labored. He opened it slowly, the eternity it took stretching out before him. Climbing onto the sill, he stared down at the ground below, the distance from the fifth floor staggering. His eyes locked onto the ground, his mind resolute. With a sudden, alarming speed, he dropped himself out the window, plummeting towards the ground. His body hit the pavement with a sickening thud, like a bag thrown carelessly to the floor. The impact sent shockwaves through the surrounding crowd, sparking chaos and panic.
Meanwhile, a witness in a building across the street had been watching the events unfold. Their mouth hung open in shock, hands clasped behind their head. The witness's face remained obscured, shrouded in shadow as the incident occurred under the faint evening light.
Arthur's consciousness went dark after hitting the ground, only to flicker back to life within the same desolate, square white room . The space seemed to be closing in around him, its walls bearing down on him like a physical force. He shook his head, attempting to jolt loose the memories that lingered just out of reach. However, the effort was met with futility, leaving him with a dull, throbbing ache.
He struggled to his feet, his legs trembling like leaves as he stood on the squeaky, cold white floors. The chill of the floor seeped into his bones, making his skin crawl. Unbeknownst to him, cameras lurked in the corners, their unblinking eyes watching his every move.
The air was heavy with anticipation, punctuated only by the soft hum of the fluorescent lights above. Among the cameras, an intercom system speaker crackled to life, producing a static, eerie noise that sent shivers down Arthur's spine. He was unsettled by this, feeling as though he was suspended in limbo – unsure of his surroundings, confined within a tiny square room like a mental patient, and unable to recall any detail of how he got there.
Suddenly, a voice emerged from the static noise, its calmness more unnerving than reassuring. "Life is unfair, isn't it?" it stated, the words dripping with an air of detached curiosity. "If so, then I'm giving you a chance to finish what you started when you attempted to end your life." The voice took on a menacing tone, "It wasn't your decision to make, because only I, the decider, decide your fate."
Arthur's gaze darted around the room, his eyes locking onto the electric chair in the left far corner. Its presence seemed to loom over him, casting a long, ominous shadow on the floor. The chair's metal surface gleamed with a cold, unforgiving light, its straps and electrodes seeming to reach out like skeletal fingers.
The voice continued, its words dripping with malice, "There's also a metallic table with a medicine vial at the front of your room. The medicine vial contains cyanide. You have 20 minutes, Arthur."
The voice ended with a burst of static, and then the speakers fell silent. The sudden stillness was oppressive, weighing heavily on Arthur's shoulders.
His body felt heavy, as if weighed down by an invisible force, as he dragged himself towards the metallic table. Each step was a laborious effort, his legs trembling beneath him like fragile twigs. When he reached the table, he collapsed against it, his breathing labored, as if his oxygen supply was indeed being slowly pinched off.
His throat suddenly felt parched, dry, and cracked, like the arid surface of a desert. An overwhelming urge for water engulfed him, sending his mind into a frantic spin. His voice, barely above a whisper, screeched as he muttered to himself, "Water... I need water."
Fumbling on the table for support, he turned around, his eyes locking onto the speaker, his gaze pleading. He pantomimed drinking water, his lips curling into a desperate, soundless plea, as his voice was too shallow to speak. The silence was oppressive, punctuated only by the soft hum of the fluorescent lights above, as he waited, his body screaming for hydration.
There was no response, only an oppressive silence that hung in the air like a malignant cloud. He then tried to look back forward, the metallic table creaking and jerking frantically while he did this, causing the medicine vial to fall onto its side and roll precariously to the edge of the table, as if teetering on the brink of a precipice. Once he'd turned around, he reached his trembling hand to the medicine vial, looking at it with caution . The vial's transparent surface glinted ominously in the cold, unforgiving light, like a tiny, malevolent eye.
He saw the biohazard symbol on its front, its bright red and yellow hues seeming to leap out at him like a warning from a toxic abyss. He turned it onto its back, reading off the labels in a voice barely above a whisper: "Warning: this vial contains a dangerous chemical. Handle with caution and care." The words seemed to sear themselves into his brain, igniting a spark of terror that threatened to consume him whole.
His eyes noticed a tiny paper stamped onto the bottom of the medicine vial, its minuscule letters seeming to dance before his eyes like a malignant taunt. He flipped it onto its bottom, then started reading the tiny, barely readable words on it, his heart sinking with each passing syllable. The words read: "You wanna die right, I dare you to drink it." Arthur was mortified by these words, his voice rising into a coarse, screeching cry: "What the fuck?"
His face suddenly contorted as he grabbed his wheezing chest, his fingers digging deep into his skin as if trying to claw out the agony that had taken up residence within. A splitting, violent headache came up like a thunderstorm, its fury unleashing a torrent of pain that threatened to shatter his very sanity. He fell beside the table, his body crashing to the floor with a sickening thud, his hands alternating between his chest and head as if trying to extinguish the flames of agony that engulfed him.
Agony wracked his body, contorting his limbs into unnatural positions, twisting and turning him into a grotesque, human-shaped puzzle. His body convulsed, his muscles contracting and releasing in a maddening rhythm, as if trying to shake off the pain that had taken hold. Foam began to bubble from his mouth, his eyes bulging outward, resembling those of a chameleon, their pupils constricting into tiny, fearful dots.
Then, the voice from before erupted from the speakers again, its tone dripping with sadistic relish. "That's what real dying feels like," it taunted, "slow, deliberate, and perfectly agonizing. The pain eats away at you little by little, a relentless, gnawing force that consumes your every waking moment. The concept of time seizes to exist, becoming irrelevant in the face of unending torment. Your pain receptors demonstrate their cruel ability, putting you through a loop of never- ending hell , a vortex of suffering from which there's no escape.
The voice paused, its silence hanging in the air like a challenge. Then continued "Lucky for you, the foam coming out your mouth signals the end of the first wave on your road to death. Hurry Arthur there's still time for you to choose: Cyanide or Electric Chair?
As foam finally ceased to bubble from his mouth, Arthur's torment subsided, bringing a fleeting moment of relief. His chest still heaved with ragged breaths, his eyes sunken from the ordeal. The voice's ominous words still echoed in his mind as he weighed the devastating options. His voice barely above a whisper, Arthur muttered to himself, his words trembling with fear, "I'll choose..." But before he could utter the fateful words, the voice boomed from the speakers once more, its source now seemingly emanating from beyond Arthur's room. Arthur's eyes widened in terror as he whispered, "What the hell is going on here?"
Unbeknownst to Arthur, a camera hung suspended above his room, its lens capturing every detail of his anguish. As the camera zoomed out, it revealed a glimpse of the rooms adjacent to Arthur's, each containing a figure shrouded in shadow, their faces obscured from view. It zoomed onto the room next to Arthur's revealing a woman.