Lothia

She sat at the end of the corridor, not in the center, but more to the left, staring vacantly down the hall. She didn't sit on the chair, either one of them (They didn't look entirely comfortable.); she instead sat between them, where maybe an end table once stood. She would have been presumed hollow, if there was anyone around to do the presuming, but all she could see was white, and all she could hear was static noise. Occasionally something would whisper, through the noise, but not loud enough to be distinguished as a word, then again, it could have just been the static flickering.

It felt like a hospital, though she couldn't remember ever being in one. It was bright, (blinding) and official, everything she thought a hospital would be; only it was just a hallway. There were four doors on each side of the hall, totaling eight options to escape through. She hadn't the energy to investigate, so she just sat arms at her side and legs forward, staring, and thinking, or maybe she was just recording it all for later examination. Whenever later was.

There were times when she felt the room get brighter, when she thought maybe she'd squint if she could remember how to, but also times when the room dimmed, and her eyes could relax a bit. She wondered if that was how the bright white marked night and day. It was night at the time following that rule, she should be sleeping, but even as the room was tolerable to her eyes, not burning, or irritating, it was still too bright. Besides that, she was scared to close her eyes; it took her to an entirely different corridor, a dark one, where she had to struggle to make out her shoe, inches in front of her. She was still just as tired there as she was in the bright corridor. There was also the screaming that echoed through her brain, smashing against the walls of her skull until she couldn't take it any longer, and was forced to open her eyes.

Only then, back in the safety net of white, did she realize, the screams belonged to her, if only because she'd feel her mouth closing again. It never sounded like her, but more like an animal being slaughtered. (Or at least, it was the only way she could think to describe it; she'd never heard an animal being slaughtered, she only imagined that's what it would sound like.) When she would hear the noise reeling through the darkness, she'd curl her knees up and bury her face, covering her ears in a silent prayer to stop the echoes. They still rang through, from all angles, at full volume, ripping her apart from the inside. But when she would open her eyes, the light would drown the noise out, lulling her back into security, and she could almost forget the screams, like they were a distant memory fading with time.

Some days (marked by the dimming), she'd find it difficult to name which was worse, the blinding light or the deafening howls. Or maybe, the thing that was worst of all was that she was just tired.