Room: A Novel By Emma Donoghue Mga Nobela at Kwento

I do not want to have a conversation with him either, so why was he being so rude? I walk into the room and close the door before locking it from inside. I sit on the bed and stare at the empty wall ahead. I turn my head to my suitcase, still sitting pretty in the room. I was somehow glad that I had fallen asleep instead of unpacking; I would have been too stressed to have to pack it up again. I'm lost in thoughts of how the hell this could happen to me when I hear a knock on the door. My roommate is a boy. A hot, shirtless, arrogant, smirking boy. This was a Greek tragedy, and I was the main character, about to suffer. I did not need to stay with him too long to know he was the kind of boy

The usual hum of activity faded behind us, replaced by an almost suffocating stillness. Something about it made my skin prickle. We stopped in front of a large wooden door. One of the guards stepped forward and pushed it open. "This room will be more comfortable while you wait," he said respectfully. Nicole walked in first, her eyes immediately scanning the room. Emma and Susan followed, and I stepped in last. The room looked like a private council chamber. A long table sat in the center, surrounded by high-backed chairs. Tall windows lined one wall, though the curtains were partially drawn, dimming the light.

She could still feel the blood taste in her mouth and int made her queasy. “Get in,” another voice said, pushing her to change direction to her right. As she veered off in that direction, rough hands stopped her. She heard the noise of a door slamming shut and then someone removed the hood from over her face. The pillow case had let in some light. Emma was grateful that the bright light in the small room didn’t hurt her eyes. She was in a small, grey room. The walls, floor and ceiling were made of painted concrete. A naked lightbulb hang above their heads and a corner there was a bucket and in another some old blankets. She wasn’t alone. Walker was there, as was the man Emma had thought to b

She knew she shouldn't go in, knowing Jemi, Emma knew she valued her space more than anything, but then, she wanted to know what lay behind those walls she was always in, what kept her in. Who was she? Emma turned the knob, pushing it slowly open, flinching as it creaked, she stepped in. The room was dark, she peered at the windows, It was covered with huge curtains, which were once a woollen blanket. She turned on the switch, surprised when there was no illumination, switching on the light of her phone, she pointed it at the ceiling. Jemi had screwed out the bulb. she had wanted her room to be this dark.

Emma said a small prayer before reaching for the doorknob and to her surprise, it wasn’t locked. Her heart thundered in her chest as the door creaked open, revealing a small, dimly lit room. It was almost like a private lounge with leather couches, a glass coffee table, and a running air conditioner. The air in the secret room was cold with a faint scent of cigarettes. This meant that the room wasn’t abandoned. If anything, it was still very much in use. But she wasn’t there to gaze at the mysterious room so, she blinked and readied herself.

Their children were supposed to give life to these halls; their laughter was supposed to ripple through them like waves on the beach, filling every inch of them. She sniffled into the silence. Only fools dare to dream, and she had been a fool. Extending a reluctant arm of pale skin that the short sleeve of Emma's top failed to hide, she twisted the door knob and pushed the door ajar, following. Soft rays of evening light peeked out from under partly opened curtains that stood motionless in the wide room. Dim lights illuminated the neat King-sized bed, the drawers, the smaller picture frames hanging on the ash walls, and the doors that led to the bathroom and the walk-in closet, respectively.

"I'll be here for a few days, I'll leave as soon as I find another place to stay at." "Heh, I heard you were kicked out of school." "None of your business." I just ignored her comments and got inside the house. Seeing this place only reminded me of the past I always wished to forget. Every room, every corner… it was all too disturbing for me. After opening the lock on my room, it was just like how I exactly left it. A mess. I shrug it off and started cleaning. I won't bother going outside of my room just to recall all those horrible past I had. I wonder if mom still lets him stay here… though knowing mom, she must've replace him with another man.

Past where his assistants worked was his office. There was a space to meet people and deal with business matters—but the real highlight was his secret room. That room meant the world to Matthew. He said it was his only spot to catch his breath in the busy, money-scented world of finance. I was the only one allowed in. It was our little secret—one of the perks of being his wife. Whenever I came to get him, I would hang out in that room until he was done with work. It had my favorite books, the art we had picked out together, and a liquor cabinet that only I had the code to.

Glancing at the clock between commercials, hoping to see Jackson at some point that day. .-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-. The sound of the door shutting startled her awake, leaning up on her arms. She glanced around the room sluggishly. Surprised at how blurry her vision was. Rubbing at her eyes, she called out softly. "Jackson? Is that you?" The room was dark, the T.V must've turned off by itself after an hour of being idle. She heard the person who came in pause for a moment, all noise gone from the room.

Emma. Emma slowly opened her eyes, groaning as her head felt like it was about to crack open. As her vision came to focus, she noticed that she was lying on the cold floor inside a strong metallic cage. She looked around her surroundings, and realised she was in some kind of basement, a dungeon to be specific. Several cages were scattered throughout the room. Emma saw her colleagues in the cages, each in their own. While the rest were still unconscious, Alison was conscious. She was braiding her blonde hair. She barely acknowledged Emma.