He jolted awake with chest heaving, struggling to breathe. There he was again. All alone in the agonising darkness; cold and empty. He never liked it there.
If he remembered correctly, the room was huge, mostly empty except for a thin matress and a metal bucket laying pathetically on the damp floor. It felt different now, though, the room didn’t seem to have anything inside, and the ground was very soft instead. But he didn’t care, being there was enough to make someone lose their sanity.
He blinked twice, glimpsing white puffy ceiling that was immediately replaced by an endless darkness. He hoisted himself up to a sitting position, taking deep breaths. He closed his eyes for a while, calming himself down, and when he opened them again, he saw it. Laying in the middle of the room was a silver key, magically glimmering. The only thing that’d help him get away from this hell.
He reached out, but felt his hands wrapped tightly by a strange cloth that went all the way to his back. He rolled over the oddly soft floor, on and on he went until his mouth was only inches away from the key, he bared his teeth and bit the metal. Except there was nothing to bite. There was never a key. He threw a tantrum, crying and screaming hysterically, trying to wriggle free.
A heavy sigh came from someone who had been watching him, she contacted her senior, “no progress from Patient Number 3.”