Invincible White Room Novels & Stories

"Axel, I would never—" "You just did," I growled, turning on my heel and walking away. The party was over for me. I couldn’t care less what happened the rest of the night. Moving through the restricted wing of the house, I texted Baron: "Keep an eye on Ryan. Make sure everything goes smoothly. I’m done with the party." I hit send and made my way to the dungeon. The white room. A place designed to break the mind before the body. Four white walls, white floors, white ceiling, and white bed—devoid of anything that could ground a person. There was a hidden compartment filled with instruments meant for pain and control. A space forgotten by most.

“This isn't the floor my mother was staying on.” The nurse smiled again. “No, Miss Oxford.” Something about that smile made Marilyn suspicious. “Your mother's room has been upgraded.” “Upgraded?” “Yes.” The nurse pressed another button. “To one of our VIP recovery suites.” Marilyn stared. “What?” “I assumed you already knew.” Marilyn didn't answer. Because she didn't. The elevator doors opened. The floor they stepped onto looked nothing like the rest of the hospital. Everything was different here. More luxurious. More exclusive.

The Great Hall of the Blackwood Keep had become a battlefield of competing realities. On one side was the "Clean Room Protocol," a world of shadowless white glass and sterile logic. On the other was Lyra Thorne, a woman who had turned her own agony into a shield of violet shadow.

The once-white door, now stained with blood and years of rot, was the only thing separating me from my nightmares. My fingers wrapped around the handle, the door squeaking as I twisted it and pushed it open. "Fucking hell." I hissed as I looked at the scene before me. Winston was sitting in a chair in the centre of the room, his bare tattooed chest covered in blood. His onyx hair was equally drenched in the blood of his victims. Bodies scattered around him; he truly was a thing of nightmares. Winston's eyes locked on me, nothing but murderous intent filling them as a sadistic smile etched its way across his face.

The room, a sanitized white it shone brightly in the cold light of the clear crystals which dangled from the ceiling. Allen squinting against the harsh gleam characteristic of the Alliance’s critical care unit, its sterile appearance and unblemished tile floors were well known to him now. However, he frowned as he gazed down at his partner.

46: The First Memory Everything was white. Like in an asylum, all four corners of the room were painted with nothing else but white. No furniture, no dust, no anything. And in the middle of that room was Avyanna. The raven-haired woman stood motionless on the white floor, barefooted, with nothing else on her but a white hospital gown. Where am I? Creak. She turned her head towards the sound. The door that was too unnoticeable to the eye was pushed open by someone. A woman dressed in a lab coat came in, with a notepad in her hand. She looked at Avyanna with a gaze filled with madness.

I retract my claws slowly, the metallic scarpe, but my body still feels hot and unstable, I need to be in the room as of thirty minutes ago. I turn sharply towards the sealed doors at the end of the hall.” Move, let's go.” The hallway clears instantly. The isolation suite doors slam shut behind me with a heavy metallic thud. It's soundproof, reinforced, and unbreakable designed to contain monsters. The room is sterile white light, reflecting off titanium walls, no windows, and no softness. No escaping a literal cage, I rip off my tactical jacket, in one motion flinging it across the room, it hits the wall and falls to the floor forgotten.

“No bargaining yet.” “Proceed,” I said. “You were not meant to survive your extraction.” My pulse didn’t jump, but something deep inside me went very still. “Extraction from where?” I asked. She tilted her head. “You truly don’t remember.” “Answer.” “Facility designation: Whiteglass.” The dream room flashed behind my eyes. White walls. Curved edges. Observation mirror. My fingers tightened slightly on the table, Dominic’s hand settled warm and steady at the back of my shoulder instantly. Anchor applied. No words needed.

The furniture was gaudy, overly ornate, and seemed almost absurdly out of place in this den of exploitation. Samuel and Hank followed me inside, their expressions hard and vigilant. The rest of our team stayed outside, stationed at strategic points to ensure no one else came in or out. Mr. White’s office had a large balcony that overlooked what could only be described as a training arena for the women he had captured. Hank, Samuel and I looked down at the three of us silently seething at the site before us. "This is new too?" I asked Mr White over my shoulder, but my eyes remained on the arena.

she said with a smile so I nodded. I got off bed and just now, I noticed that I was in a room that was all color white. It's like I'm on television or maybe I'm confined to a mental hospital. This is a little bit creepy. Who is the sane person who would stay in a room where everything is white, right? Isn't it weird? Oh... they are vampires, not humans. I forgot about that. Shantelle's Mother and Grandmother are the only human in her family.