Page 36 of Psyop Kings

It’s easier said than done. I’ve been off my regular meds for an incalculable amount of time and have been forcefully given mystery drugs. Between the mind games, withdrawal from my meds, and confusion of the new ones, it’s really hard to keep all the fragmented parts of my mind held together.

Despite really wanting a shower, I make my way over to the door. When I turn the knob, it opens. Slowly, I slip through the door and peer into the hallway.

I’m in the room at the end.

I recall how if I keep walking toward the other end, I’ll pass the cigar room. When I turn, it’ll take me to a lobby with elevators. But the elevators weren’t accessible unless you had codes.

There has to be a stairwell somewhere.

Rather than going straight, I turn right to go down another long hallway. I’m sure I’m being watched by cameras. That’s enough to give me the chills, but I ignore it for now. If they want to stop me, they’ll stop me. Instead of running like a lunatic and screaming, I creep quietly, light on my shoe-less feet.

None of the room doors are open and the only smell down this hallway is a musty one.

Where is this hotel or mansion or whatever it is?

Am I still in California?

Have I been shipped off to Romania or Italy or some other foreign country far away from the US?

If only I could get access to some information. That would help me calm down and make a better plan.

I realize I’ve picked up my steps and am shuffling along at a quick pace. I force myself to breathe steadily.

Don’t rush.

Be careful.

Pay attention to every detail.

There are no pictures on the walls. Just doors and sconces. Sconces and doors.

When I reach the end, I can turn left to go down another long hallway. As I begin to paint a picture of this hotel in my mind based on what I know, I can tell it’s rectangular in shape and this entire floor seems to be guest rooms.

If I get to another floor, would I encounter guests of the hotel or is it completely empty—just me and those Crowne monsters?

I turn to look back the way I came. No one is coming after me. Dull, yellow light from my room is cast into the hall from my door that’s been left open.

After taking another few steps forward, I decide to try a door. Locked. Same with the next several. They obviously weren’t stupid enough to leave me a way out.

Then I see it.

Several doors down, on the wall, is a handle. I slink over to it and read the silver placard affixed to the recessed white-painted wood square.

Trash Chute.

My heart rate picks up as I consider what this means. If I can crawl into the small space, it’ll dump me into a trash bin somewhere, most likely on the ground floor.

I think I just found my way out.

Unfortunately, I have no idea how deep it goes and how steep the drop is.

The thought of tumbling down a dark chute and landing on concrete several floors down is terrifying.

Dying is a better option than being trapped here.

Without further thought, I grab the handle and pull open the door. I’m able to get my head and shoulders in enough to peek down. It’s a metal chute that’s shockingly clean that descends into darkness beyond the reach of my extended arm.

I’m certainly not going down headfirst.

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