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last bit:
He heard the click of the door behind him and realized that he was clutching the flashlight in his hands, but nothing else. His bag and mask were in the other room.
Dont know how much time have been in here, everyting gone, I only have flashlight, and its broke, notebook is gone, have found a way around it, food is gone, too, found a way around that, too, hope to be leaving soon, Love, Ardal
Ardal looked back at his writing with a bizarre sense of satisfaction. The room had some bodies strewn about, Ardal didn’t really notice what all was going on. He took one of the bodies and used its blood to write his journal entry on the wall. The rest he used for food.
He was vaguely aware that his mental state had been affected, but he cared very little. He kind of hoped he would get back to normal once he was out of the offices, but was at this point not particularly worried about normalcy or leaving. He merely wandered through the rooms as he had been doing the entire week.
Ardal, Ardal, Ardal, Ardal, Ardal, Ardal, Ardal, Ardal, Ardal, Ardal, Ardal, Ardal, Ardal
He wrote his name over and over. He’d been there a week and a half, not that he noticed the passing of time anymore. He wrote his name over and over. It was the only word he could remember to write. He could form the words in his head, but he could only write his name. Part of him wanted to write it over and over again because the last little remnants of sanity in his mind were afraid that if he stopped, he’d forget it.
He wandered over and walked through the door. He didn’t notice the colour. He just walked through the rooms, rarely even noticing what was going on inside them. He would occasionally stop in a room to eat or excrete or amuse himself, but in general he paid no mind to them. He just walked. Not that he remembered why he was traversing the rooms. He just knew that he was, so that’s what he did.
Until he got to a door that he couldn’t get open. The minor interruption in his routine had caused his disposition to clear up some. For the first time in however long, he was vaguely aware of himself.
“Hello, Mr. Ira.” He heard someone behind him say. He spun around to see two men in suits sitting on chairs that he would remember to have looked like the chairs in the waiting room, if he remembered the waiting room at that point. Ardal merely laughed. He didn’t know why, but he did. The two men waited for him to finish before addressing him again.
“Mr. Ira,” the second man said, “we’re glad to see you made it here with your physical wellbeing in tact. We’d like to unlock the door and let you out to go enjoy your money.” Ardal started laughing again. The men waited patiently, again, for him to finish. He kept laughing, but suddenly felt very tired. He laughed as he felt his eyelids grow heavy. Everything grew darker and he felt himself slump to the ground. But he kept laughing. Finally, the second man grew impatient.
“Mr. Ira, I realize that you were guaranteed safety. Unfortunately, by removing your mask, you negated that. We can’t let you leave the building now that you have those drugs in your system. I’m sorry, but you’ll have to remain in the building. I’m sure you understand.”
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