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

Isolated. Sealed. No doors. No windows. Just walls— smooth. Unbreakable. “No…” I whisper. Above me— nothing. No opening. No way back. “They separated us,” I say under my breath. Of course they did. Because that’s the one thing they couldn’t control when we were together. So they fixed it. The easy way. A soft hum fills the room. Low. Familiar. I turn slowly. And then I see it. A chair. At the center of the room.

• • • ~I see the angel and demons surrounding me It's going down, and you're comin' down with me~ • A person's room speaks a lot about him. That's why Daniel's enormous-sized room screams nothing but chilling danger to anyone who would enter it. His room is just like him- tedious, cold, unreadable and safe to say boring to Mili's eyes which is severely in need of some vibrant colour, cute decorations and wall paintings.

I was alone in the room. I got out of bed and looked in the closet and the bathroom. There was no one in the room. I checked the door. It was properly locked. I heaved a deep sigh and collapsed on the floor. The room was silent and I listened to the ticking sound of the analog clock and the sound of the wind blowing outside.

The kind of ceiling that costs more per square foot than my monthly grocery budget. I'm in a bed that is not my bed. I sit up and my whole body screams at me. My ribs. My left shoulder. My hands, both of them wrapped in clean white bandaging. The room is large. Floor-to-ceiling windows on one wall, city somewhere far below. No machines. No IV. No nurses. Just dark furniture and a silence so complete it has weight. And a man sitting in the corner. He's not reading. Not on his phone. He's just sitting there in the low light, one ankle crossed over his knee, watching me the way you watch something you're deciding what to do with.

The particular stillness of a building designed to contain rather than welcome. A man I recognized from Marcus’s team met us in the corridor. “He’s in room three,” the man said. “He’s been cooperative. Hasn’t needed much encouragement.” I nodded. I looked at the door at the end of the corridor. Room three. “Give me the room,” I said. Marcus looked at me. “I want to go in alone first,” I said. A pause. Then Marcus nodded. I opened the door and went in. The room was small. A table. Two chairs. A single light overhead. The kind of room that had one purpose and made no effort to pretend otherwise.

I said in an almost whisper. Max either didn’t hear me or pretended not to, because he just left me. Alone. In this very pretty, very large, room. It wasn’t freedom but finally, the four walls I usually stared at were different. Finally, there was a beautiful view I could stare at for days without having to do anything else. So I did.

Cole on his back with the lamplight on his face and that smile still there — small, private, sitting in the corner of his mouth like it had always been there, like it had just been waiting for the right conditions to come out. Four people who had no business working. We worked. I reached over and turned off the lamp. The room went dark and warm and quiet, just breathing and the distant sound of the city outside my window. We were just getting started.

Thinking what stupid human would build a building in a place like this. Footsteps walked up the stairs in front of the building. Slowly but surely, he touched the handle on the double door in front of him, then pushed it gently. Dark. Drawn in the room in front of him. There was no one there but him. "Hello! Anyone here?" Anna's voice echoed throughout the room. No one answered. He entered and looked around. Soon, the lights in the four corners of the room came on. Shows four aisles in each corner of the room.

Alesha Stokes — Cornered. The sound of the party reached me, muffled. Laughter. Conversations. Music. But I was here, alone, curled up in the corner of that cramped little room. The scent of soap and damp wood lingered in the air, contrasting with the refined, sophisticated aromas that probably filled the grand hall. That world wasn’t meant for me. I never belonged here. I closed my eyes and, for a brief moment—taking in the only bit of "peace" I’d had since arriving at the palace—I thought of the forest.

Isabella It was after midnight as I sat alone on a twin-sized bed in a room that was big enough for the bed, a dresser, and a desk. The light fixture above was new but plain, giving off a harsh white illumination. With my knees to my chest, and my back against the wall where a headboard should be, I stared at the four corners, not willing to turn off the only source of light. My head and jaw ached from the stress. My stomach was twisted in knots.