The White Room

I woke with a start. My legs jerking upwards and I reached back with my arms trying to pull myself up. Why was everything white? Everything was fucking white. I shook my head a couple times and pushed hard against my eyes until it was uncomfortable. White stars flashed across my vision and a dull ache could be felt so I released my pressure. Everything was still white but I could see a bit better now. I could see faint lines in the white that were the corners. There was a very bright and small light imbedded in the ceiling. I was in a small cube. INSIDE a small cube. I started to breathe faster as claustrophobia started to sneak into my consciousness to dwell. I sucked in some air and then slowly blew out. I stood up and wobbled a couple times, as my balance seemed a bit off. What had I done to get here? Where was I? Then it was like something cold exploded in my stomach and nausea set in as I realized I didn't even know my own name. I slowly sank to the floor in pure confusion. The feeling felt familiar, a faint Deja Vu. What the hell was going on? I slammed my fist into the wall behind me. I could feel the soft cushion sink beneath my knuckles. I groaned and pushed my head back into the soft whiteness. I was now confused AND frustrated. "
What's my name, you white bastard?" I asked my only company, the white walls. I closed my eyes sighing. I think I sat there for ten minutes before I heard a faint click.
I opened my eyes and sat up, alert and ready. In the corner of the room there was now another shade of white. A small slip of paper that looked like it was from a fortune cookie. I scooted over to the corner and picked it up, gentle not to rip it. On it read "Jonathan Mendez".
Was that my name? Jonathan Mendez? It felt odd to have a name I do not know rolling off my tongue, realizing that it is my own. Where had the paper come from? I ran my hands along the corners trying to find a some form of opening but my hands came back disappointed. I dug my fingers into the soft white out of agitation. Jonathan Mendez. I said it again. That is my name. I am Jonathan Mendez. That's a start. At least I now knew my name. I laughed a little under my breath at the insanity of it all. Suddenly the room went black. On the wall to my left a large picture had appeared. There was a black and white photo of a man laying in his bath. The bath water was darkly tinted and what appeared to be blood was running down the man's arms from deep curs running up his arm. The man's face had been replaced with a white splotch. It flashed and changed to a picture of a man hanging from a tree by a noose. Below the man lay a knocked over chair. Once again, the man's face had been replaced by a white splatter. A flash and now it was a picture of a man sitting in a chair. Against his head he held a gun. His hand looked like it was holding the gun so tight that it would crush the metal.
"Who the hell would do that?" Is what was running through my mind as these photos were shown to me.
Everything was so confusing. What was going on?
There were 3 more suicide pictures. One was of a man standing in front of a train. Another of a woman halfway in flight to the pavement below. The last one struck him though. Until now, in every single photo the person's face had been covered by a dash of white paint. In the last one it was not however. The last one showed a man standing in a white room almost exact to the one I was in. In his hand he held he held a gun. The gun was pressed firmly underneath his jaw and the man looked like he was ready to pull it any second without hesitation. He had shortly cut black hair, a clean shaven face. He had a small but distinguishable mole above his eyebrow and looked to be in his mid 30s. I heard a click behind me and a small rush of air. The lights blinked back on. I turned around to find a small mirror laying in the corner. The realization that I did not know what I looked like seemed impossible. With oddly calm hands I picked up the mirror and held it up. What I saw was disturbing to say the least. In front of me in the mirror was a face. This face had short black hair, a clean shaven face, and a mole above his left eyebrow. I waved my hand in front of the small handheld mirror. Sure enough, the man from the picture did the same. How had they gotten that picture? I didn't remember that happening. I didn't remember anything though either. I heard a click and a small flash as something small and heavy fell into the cube. Before me lay the smooth and cold shape of a gun. I almost laughed. I reached down and picked up the dangerous object. I could sense the nostalgia, almost like another person was inside my head. Someone who was relishing the moment and the feel of the gun. Then the wildest temptation came into my head. The oddest thought. To put the gun against my head. Pull the trigger and feel the release, like a piston slamming through my head and removing my brain. Painting the walls of this room with a new coat of red paint. I slowly lifted my hand higher and higher. I now had it level with my skull. I could feel the hard metal push into my skin. I sat like that for two minutes when the sickening thoughts left as soon as they had come. I breathed in deeply and exhaled. There I sat. In a white cushioned room with a gun, a slip of paper with a name on it, and a small mirror. And then it happened. I heard a click and the wall behind me and in front of me started shifting upwards. In front of me the wall had moved upwards and now instead of a white cushion wall there was hard glass. Looking through the glass I could see that wherever I was it was dark and cement was the floor. 20 feet in front of the box, almost out of the light, was a stool. Onto of the stool was a small box. Wires wrapped around it on all angles and on top of it was an LED clock.
"There is no way that is a bomb." Is what ran through my mind. I prayed that I was right. It looked too much like how they looked in the movies to be real. I turned around to see what had been revealed behind me. To my astonishment there was two TVs laying right outside of the glass. One showed a family of three slowly eating dinner and the other showed a woman sitting on a bench in a park reading a book. Then from somewhere a voice began to talk.
"Hello Jonathan. Here you sit in this white box helpless and minutes away from death. In front of you are two TVs. Now if you look closely on the bottom of each TV is a piece of tape with a 1 or 2 on it. On the wall to your right there should be two buttons hidden in the bottom corners. The left bottom corner is 1 and the right bottom corner is 2. Whichever you press will trigger an explosive detonation killing the subjects you see on the screen. If however you don't chose in 5 minutes or you conscious refuses to let you, your own miserable existence will be ended by the explosive device through the opposite wall to the TV's."
I waited for the voice to continue but nothing more was spoken. I assumed the voice was done speaking. I turned around to examine the box with wires one more time. Fuck. The clock now showed a time. It said 4:49 and as I watched it clicked to 4:48. I turned around and examined my options. Before me lay a family of three and the woman. Something about the woman's face struck me, like I knew her. Like I once loved her. Shit, I needed to figure this out. I grabbed the gun at my feet, cocked it and pointed at the glass. Shielding my face, I pulled the trigger. There was a loud crack but when I looked back the glass barely had a crack. That wasn't going to work. What if I just blew my own brains out? I wouldn't have to endure the remaining 4 minutes of torture. I wanted to live though. Didn't I? Or did I. I scrambled into the right corner and searched for the button. Something dripped into and stung my eyes. Was I sweating? I ignored the thoughts and ran my hands along the soft white. Then I hit a bump. I lightly trailed my fingers across it to be sure. There was definitely a hard round object protruding there. If I pressed this button now a woman who I don't think I know would die. I had the power to control someone's destiny. Something about that made me tingle but I didn't stop trailing my fingers along the button or push it. Would I do it? Should I?" The woman die and I survive? I looked at the clock. One minute and forty two seconds remaining. I didn't even know who I was let alone who I'll be. This girl is in the middle of her life. Not me. I'm as worthless as a fuck-up dropout. I knew nothing about myself. I was pathetic. A nobody. One minute and 20 seconds. Something wet hit my hand. What the hell? Was I crying? Why was I crying? I slumped to the floor defeated. 40 seconds and I could care less. I didn't want to harm anyone. I couldn't live with that. No. No. I would not. 30 seconds. I said a silent prayer to God. Maybe there was one and he would show mercy. Maybe if I was lucky. Here I lay. I knew barely anything about myself. Who was I? Why was I here? 10 seconds. I was content though. 9 seconds. I didn't know why. 8 seconds. I had done the right thing. 7 seconds. I knew it in my heart. 6 seconds. I need not have guilt.
5 seconds.
I
4 seconds
Could
3 seconds
Be
2 seconds
Happy.
1

I waited for the impending blackness. Or whiteness. Or whatever it was that would hit me. I opened my eyes. The TVs were off. The clock was dark. And the glass had slid up into the ceiling. Suddenly everything flashed and the lights turned on. I was in a cement room. Maybe a cellar. To my right was a set of stairs. I slowly strode towards them and climbed my way up. I opened the door that sat at the top and light flooded in. I was outside. I was standing in the yard of a small and trimmed house. My foot nudged something. I looked down. In front of me lay a small tool box. I bent down and unclasped the top. Inside was a letter. I pulled it out and opened it. This is what it said:

Dear Jonathan Mendez,

You are probably concerned for your sanity and life right now. Fear not, you are in a better and happier state than you were, I assume. I believe that only in those seconds away from death do humans discover the truth about themselves. I do not know what you felt even though I am you. Yes, you wrote this letter. Everything that has happened, you set up. You made sure no one would get hurt but that you would trick yourself into an illusion that people's lives were at stake. You knew how fragile your own mind was. You built the white cube. The fake bomb. Everything was set up by you. You took the drug that would erase almost all memories. Why? I'll leave that for your past self to know and your future self to wonder. Before you freak out and ask why the fuck you would do that to yourself, calm down. Everything in there, I did to test myself. Test you. You had your reasons. You're in a much better place now, if you are reading this letter. Just remember that. You're a happier being. Stay happy. Stay strong.

Sincerely, Jonathan Mendez.