I Sit Alone In A Four-cornered Room Novels & Stories

I turned my head to look at him, offering a faint smile, the same one I’d used too many times to cover things I didn’t want to say. “But I don’t want…” My voice faltered for a second. “I don’t want to spend whatever time I have left in a place like this.” The air felt sharp in my lungs. “Please,” I added softly. “Try to understand.” He swallowed whatever he was about to say and simply stared at me with a look of defeat, before finally nodding slowly and leaving the room. The sliding door closed tightly. And in that instant, silence rushed in. This inpatient room was for four patients, with a row of empty beds neatly lined up next to mine. Yet, even in a room this large, I was alone.

My suitcase wheels rattled loudly against the uneven floor as though announcing my shame to the empty corridor. When I closed the door behind me, the silence was suffocating. I dropped my suitcase by the bed and slid down to the floor, the strength in my legs giving way. The room was small, its wallpaper faded, its single lamp casting a weak yellow glow. But it wasn’t the room that broke me; it was the sudden realization that this was all I had now. Four walls that belonged to no one.

I screamed and stepped closer to the front door as he pulled me up with one hand, slammed me back down on the bed, and then repeated the process. The narrator says in the narration, "You are not authorized to leave this four-corner chamber until I have finished with you," and the room has four corners. For the purpose of demonstrating, I shook my head in an unsteady manner. In this particular instance, I did not agree with what he was attempting to do.

I comforted myself with my words and walked straight to room with blue door… I twisted its golden door knob and entered inside It dead dark inside with just hint of light flash of star filled sky that was peeking in from nearby rough glass window… Thanks to my improved vision, with help of such minimal light I managed to discover four glass oil lamp from nearby cabinet and lighted them all with the help of incense stick… I placed each of those lamps in four corner of room which gave me sufficiently visible picture of entire room… “Woww……” I said in amazed and kept staring at this room

Stephanie's POV: Unlike the other room, this one was dark. The only source of illumination came from red candles situated at each of the four corners of the room, their flickering light casting shadows that danced across the walls. The air was heavy, charged with an intensity I couldn’t quite describe. At the center of the room stood a massive bed with a red mattress. Chains hung from three corners, giving the entire setup an almost ominous aura. It looked more like an arena for some private wrestling match than a place for rest. My curiosity deepened as I stepped further inside.

He is sitting in the corner with no lights on, he has a glass of wine in his hand and he can hardly open his eyes. On the table before him, there are three big empty bottles. His long legs are on the table and he seems to be in his own world with no one but him in it. He is in deep thoughts until he hears a voice, he sneers and thinks, “You won’t leave me alone will you? You witch, you have bewitched me into hearing your voice everywhere.”

I look around the room and know that I’m in trouble. The room is tiny, like a closet. There’s nothing on the walls and no windows. I’m on a cot, at best, and it’s thin as hell. There’s a blanket on me, but it isn’t one that I’d give to my worst enemy. I shut my eyes tight, hating that I’m in this situation.

The specific quality of a space that had more people in it than it was originally sized for. Not overwhelming. Full. The correct kind of full. Salia had her own corner of the living room. Not formally designated. She had designated it herself. The compass needle quality. She had walked to the corner near the bookshelf on her third day of walking. She had stood there. She had looked at the corner. She had sat down. She had looked at us. She had looked at the corner. She had looked at us again. Dad had said: your corner then.

Just enough for me to slip in, naked beneath a trench coat, my collar snug around my throat like a key. I step inside. Room 406 is dim, lit only by the flickering of a single candle in the corner. A note waits on the bed, written in thick black ink. Kneel. Wait. Don’t speak. I obey. My knees find the floor, my hands rest on my thighs and my head bows. I feel exposed. Vulnerable. Like a raw nerve dressed in nothing but anticipation and need. Time passes. I don’t know how long. When the door closes softly behind me, my breath catches.

Wow. Running his digits through his black strands, the man slowly trudged his way up the stairs. Clearing his throat before he gently knocked on the door, pushing it open. "Hey--you breathing in here?" The sight of those large eyes, red and rimmed with tear streaks, was much worse than he thought. She was sitting, desolate, in the middle of the carpet. Tiny cuts littering her previously unblemished skin as she picked up the tiny shards of glass.