Suicide Room 2 Novels & Stories

The warm, stale air of the building rolled over them: beer, sweat, fryer grease, and under it all, the faint, bitter sting of cheap suppressant tabs. He dragged her inside and shouldered the door shut as softly as a slammed door could be, then twisted the deadbolt home. Outside, boots splashed closer. “This way,” he said, low, already moving. They slipped past the staff bathroom, the mop sink, a stack of cracked crates. At the end of the corridor, a smaller door waited with a peeling *STOCK ONLY* sign. He threw it open and pulled her into the dark. The storage room was barely wider than his wingspan—shelves on either side loaded with cases, boxes, or cheap bottles. A single bare bulb flicker

With a loud bang, my thoughts snapped back to the present. I looked around. This was the dorm room from my very first day of university. The source of the noise was the bed beside mine—Lucy Windham. She had flung her pillow straight down. It smashed into my thermos. There was water inside; the inner liner shattered on impact. Hot water spilled across the floor, and steam curled upward.

"Leo has the cameras set up. Silas is bringing the 'supplies' from the garden. We are going to make a record of your destruction, Sarah." The Room of Glass and Chrome The video room was different from the library. Where the library was old and warm, this room was cold and modern. It had white leather mats on the floor, walls made of mirrors, and three high-definition cameras on silver tripods. In the center of the room was a single, clear glass table. When Sarah walked in, she saw Leo. He was wearing nothing but silk lounge pants. He was holding a remote control.

Date = 25 June Never a dull moment. Place = San Francisco (A warehouse) I’d rather not hang out here for too long. POV - Aria WARNING – Graphic content !!!!! Rape - murder !!! The room is cold. Not freezer-cold, but the kind that sinks under your skin and settles into your bones like mold — damp, heavy, and wrong. We are in a storage closet or maybe a utility room. No windows. No lights. Just cracked tiles, an exposed pipe dripping like a metronome for a funeral march, and a rusted, once-blue door with a single slit at the bottom.

he adds. “That's all the time I need,” I say as he lets us through. The door creaks open to a dimly lit room, the air thick with the smell of liquor and Cuban cigars. A single couch sits at the center, its cushions new and puffed. I place her on it taking out the note. “He's in room 822. He will be alone at twelve ten to twelve twenty.” I look at Maya one more time before leaving her there and locking the room behind me. I take the elevator counting the minutes. I can't leave Maya alone for too long — not in that state.

“Even when they were resetting the shoulder—guy was gritting his teeth, sweat pouring off him, and he kept repeating your name like a mantra. ‘Tell Eli I’m fine.’ Over and over.” My eyes burned. I nodded, unable to speak past the knot in my throat. A doctor finally emerged from the double doors—blue scrubs, clipboard in hand, dark circles under her eyes. “Eli Summers?” I stood so fast the chair scraped loudly against the floor. “He’s stable. In Room 14. You can see him now. He’s been asking for you.” I followed her down the hallway—sterile white walls, beeping monitors, the sharp sting of antiseptic in every breath. Room 14’s door was half-open, fluorescent light spilling into the corridor.

And a chest that that says they/them “Uh,” I say. “I’m trying to find Room 2B. The Queer Collective intake… thing.” They brighten instantly, the posters bobbing as they adjust their grip. “You’re early. Good. People usually wander in forty minutes late and then pretend they weren’t lost.” I offer a weak smile. “I’m one of those apparently.” “It’s like a rite of passage,” they say, stepping forward. “Come on. I’ll walk you. This building is a maze unless you’ve cried in it at least twice.”

Susan contemplated, "And then?" Luna continued, "We'll make sure she overhears that Daniel is going to rest in room number 204 since he is drunk, though he'll not be there originally, it's just we are going to use his name to make her get into that room. After they escort me to room 204, thinking it's 205, she'll enter room 205, believing it's 204. Simultaneously, we'll cut the power to room 205. You can guess the rest."

“Are you sure you'll be okay? If you're not fine, you can come here too. Okay? She says softly.. I smiled. “Thank you. I'm gonna be good. Goodnight girl.” She speaks in a sly manner. “Have fun. But not too much fun.” I laughed. “Okay.” The door closed behind and Trevor and I grinned excitedly, using the elevator down to the other room. Room 102, he pushed the door open. Just a little difference from ours. I fell on the neatly laid bed and he closed the door behind, then sat at the edge of the bed, there's a tab on his hands. He starts playing on his racing games. I went closer, frowning.

It would have been nice to know about that, just in case anyone else tried to kill me. I’m the queen. People are going to try to kill me. The safe room is located behind the bar in the formal sitting room. A section swings out to reveal a narrow door that can admit only one person at a time. A door as thick as a refrigerator. This thing can probably withstand a direct meteor strike.