You are Isabella aka Isla, a 16 years old high schooler girl and it’s 9:47 PM. You are walking down in the dark cold night hallway after finishing your Spanish night class. No one near you, no sound, perhaps a chitter and rustle from a rat in an abandoned locker or your footsteps stepping the puddle or a jingle of keys in your backpack breaking the silence. Are you scared now? But the story hasn't begun. You start asking yourself, why you are here, why don’t you call your parents or ask your friend to walk home together, why you are alone, where are everyone? Your light brown eyes scheming the surroundings, darting around the wall and to the dark corner, only your body moves forward slowly. But then in front of you there are two-way directions, right or left. You can only choose one of them but be careful nothing can help, even beauty but not everything is deadly. Only one way out.
Feel your senses:
A. The right side smells faintly like rust and carcasses with a sweet and sour from a wet trash bag. A breeze brushes your skin, as if something just moved past you. You got goosebump listening to the low hum…or maybe breathing?
B. The left side, it’s warmer, you can see a small light, you hear a soft click, like a door unlocking or closing and you smell a barbeque smoke, maybe it’s a turkey like on Christmas Eve? or a chicken gratefully it doesn’t smell rat.
[If you chose A: The right side]
You step forward to the narrow hallway. The air gets thick and cold, you feel the earth swallowing you, staring at you, naked. It’s getting darker, darker and colder but unfortunately it's hard to breathe. You blink, but the walls seem closer and closer. Suddenly the soft hard voice whispered at your left side, its breath hitting your ear.
???: “Wrong choice.”
You started to look around, it's the locker! Someone is in that locker. Your hands are trembling but you’re still walking, but where are you going? You're walking to that locker, you don’t remember telling your feet to move there, why is it moving by itself.
???: “Isla...”
Someone is calling you again, but who is it? It's a girl? This isn't a time for hide and seek, you need to go. Go. Now.
???: “Open the door.”
You: “Who’s there?”
???: “You know me.”
You: “What do you mean? I…I don't know you?”
???: “You do.”
You gripped your backpack tightly, you should running away but you still standing there.
You: “W-what do you want?”
???: “To get out.”
You: “Then..why? W-what are you doing in there?”
???: “Waiting for you.”
You: “If you need help then I'll just call someone.”
???: “No phone. No help. Just you.”
You: “I will help you but tell me who you are first. I'm confused.”
???: “You’ll find out, you'll be safe. Open the door now.”
You: “This isn't right.”
???: “Neither are you.”
You freeze, your heart skips a beat.
You: “What does it mean?”
???: “Open the door.”
You: “Tell me your name first.”
???: “I told you. You know it.”
You: “I don't!”
???: “Just open.”
With a trembling hand you reach the doorknob slowly, your warm skin touching against the cold metal. This is your choice. Your kindness wins to help the person. Or maybe it’s curiosity. Maybe it’s guilt. Or a control. You twist the handle. You open the locker with one breath, but no one there, it's empty.
No body. No blood. No smell. Just darkness and a small, yellow note. Your breath catches. You lean closer. It's a Spanish word “Suspenso”. Suddenly you pushed, the door slams shut behind you, trapping you inside a suffocating darkness.
You: “Hey!! Let me out!” You bang the metal with your fist.
You: “Please let me out of here! This isn't even funny!! Open the door!!”
But no one help you. No one will. Because out there, in the hallway, another ‘you’ walks away. She hums. She jingles the keys in her backpack and she smiles before walk away to your home direction, left you.
[If you chose B: The left side]
You step forward, It does feel safer but only for a second before you hear it, a soft deep voice.
???: “Hey there sweetheart. Why are you here?”
You turn, no one’s there. You run. The hallway stretches endlessly.
You: “What the hell is that?! Show me your face!” You quickly walked again, ignoring the person.
???: “Why don't you join us?”
???: “Let's dig in.”
???: “Let’s be happy.”
You started to cry.
You: “I don't want to be happy. I wanna go home."
You're running, but you saw everyone staring at you in front of their houses, their gaze are empty, it got you heart attack but doesn't kill. The air pregnant with fear, you feel your cold sweet. Suddenly every door shutting and opening continuously. You're exhausted. You can't screaming. But then you stopped, you saw your teacher in your classroom.
Mr. David: “Suspenso, Isla. Unfortunately.” His face melted.
You froze before collapsed on your knees, cried even more, covered your wet face, and knelt there on the street alone. Suddenly people gathering you, asking you if you're okay. But you still crying.
Congratulations. You’ve just experienced what it feels like to lose your grip on reality. You made a choice or did you really?
You are Isla.
You are 16.
You are alone.
And You are not okay.
Welcome to Schizophrenia. Wish you have a great time.
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