Novel & Cerita White Room Torture

Children like us who are raped and tortured in front of us when we don't follow what they want. Up to the red room, where the girls who don't follow are taken. After being tortured, whip the body several times until it weakens and your body gives up. Full of blood, blood of suffering. Amanda and I were ordered to clean it once, we were still crying and we couldn't stand the overwhelming smell. We are just thankful that we escaped there. But the nightmare always visits us in our sleep. It even got to the point where we were taken to a psychiatrist.

In the meantime of me struggling to open my eyes, I could hear irritating sound, continuously which was enough to rip my ears apart. At last, I opened my eyes and the strange surrounding of the room, in which I was sent creepy vibes inside my body. I was in the white room, with several white lights. No other furniture could be seen except my bed. I was covered with white sheet, had white pillow beneath my head and dressed in frock, whose color was also white. My left hand was strapped with the side of the bed, more like cuffed. Cannula was attached through which fluids could pass in my body through my veins. My whole right arm was plastered. I squeezed my eyes again, clasping it tightly in o

I end up asking, realizing rather quickly that reminding her of that awful place was the last thing I should be doing. However, when I start to retract, she speaks. “We were—for an hour every day. But we were not allowed to do anything except browse. One time, one boy was caught playing a game, and he had to spend the next two days in the white room.” “White room?” Cora asks, curious to the point that she’s practically in Vera’s face. “What is a white room? Is it something with white walls like in our school?” “It is a room, yes. But it’s not a classroom. It was the place we were sent to when we broke any rule.”

We have several cells here and two very different torture room. The one I am heading to now, the white room, is the equivalent of any surgical room. Neat white plastered walls and a white cast floor that is easy to clean. In the middle of the room stands a massive gynecology chair, and in the cabinets lining the far wall you can find a wide range of surgical instruments. I spot the white door easily, it's the only white one for that matter, and push it open. The smell of blood, fear and piss hangs in the air and my eyes fall on the man strapped in the gynecology chair. His bruised eye is completely swollen shut, but the other one is spread wide open in fear. His torso is bare, ready for me t

He had come here every single time that Daemon did. When her eyes adjusted, she watched in awe. This kind of torture… The room was wide enough to accommodate ten people, the walls were bright white and light covered every single corner of the room. There was nothing in sight except the patrons that were chained to the walls, all were clothed in white and there was nothing else in sight. Had they stayed in this room for five months? This was enough to make someone go mad. Being chained to the wall with nothing in sight apart from each other. But even at that, each of them were boxed in a transparent glass, separating one patron from the other to avoid communication.

I shuddered at the thought of the horrors that had transpired here, the stains of suffering that marred the cold, unforgiving stone. This room, a separate section within this chamber of nightmares, was a place of unparalleled dread. My senses were immediately assaulted by the sight of an array of torture devices, each one more menacing than the last. Iron maiden cages loomed like monstrous sentinels, their sharp, menacing edges promising agony. The rack, a cruel instrument of torment, stood as a grotesque reminder of past cruelties. Torture wheels, their rusted spokes gnashing together, whispered sinister tales of pain and suffering. My gaze darted to the array of whips that adorned the bric

“Take her to the torture room. I'll show you what is done to people of your kind.“ Meagan was speechless at his words. She had never heard of a torture room as she assumed the dungeon was the worst place anyone could be. How wrong she was. They arrived at a large room on the last floor in the palace. It was her first time on any of the floors. The room looked like a gym room, but with unusual gyming equipment. She was led to one that was shaped in form of a chair suspended on an elevated platform with layers. Above it was an outlet for a liquid. She looked in horror at the sight.

My hard work had gone poof. They pulled me through the door of the basement into the very bright room. Glancing around, a shiver rolled through my spine at the thought that this was their torture chamber. The room was illuminated with the most blinding, evil white light that accentuated everything. The room smelt like antiseptic and bleach. It was obvious what they did here.

"But on occasion, I will sleep here. With you. Come with me." He turned his back, and I followed him out of pure survival instinct. Damian walked to the very end of the hallway and pushed open a heavy, solid wood door. The moment I took my first step into that room, the air left my lungs completely. It was a red room. The space oozed opulence and pain. It didn't look like a normal bedroom, but rather a high-end, profoundly luxurious torture chamber. The walls were upholstered in dark leather, polished steel chains hung from the ceiling, and high-end restraints, floggers, and designer paddles were displayed on suede mounts. Drawers were packed with high-tech toys and fetishes I didn't even kn

He had no idea how he made it to the morgue, but eventually he snapped out of it. "You'll have to brace yourself, Mr. Terrason," said the forensic doctor, but he sounded so far away. The white sheet was pulled back. The body was burned beyond recognition, but the diamond ring on the finger struck Samuel like lightning. His chest tightened until he couldn't breathe. The room spun. He nearly collapsed, catching himself against the wall. "No… this isn't possible…" His hand hovered over the ring, trembling, then recoiled as if burned. Reality was worse than anything he'd imagined.