My Room 101

by ArtemisKid

"You asked me once," said O'Brien, "what was in Room 101. I told you that you knew the answer already. Everyone knows it. The thing that is in Room 101 is the worst thing in the world." My Room 101 told through an OC in a second person point of view.

"You are to be brought to Room 101. I am so sorry I cannot give you better news, my dear," You hear O'Brien inform you. There is something wrong about that room, but you cannot remember. You embrace the darkness known as unconsciousness as O'Brien whispers, "Sleep well, my dear."

You wake up from a drug-induced slumber with a sleep leaden feel when you initially realize there is no color. In fact, there is no shape or even light; everything is perfectly black without a spot of grey. At first, you believe that the lights are just off and decided to wait for them to be turned on. You then think of blindfolds, feel around for cloth around your eyes, and find out there is none. Deciding that your slight fear of the dark was being preyed on, you decided to call O'Brien's bluff. "I know you are there," you shout, "I am no longer afraid of the dark. That was only a child's fear. Looks like your precious Room 101 failed you."

As you enunciate the word 'failed', you hear a voice permeate through the unknown darkness. It is telling you of your faults; this mysterious voice lists everything from a broken promise to do the dishes to a rejection from your family. With each transgression announced, a feeling of worthlessness, condemnation, and hysteria rises up in your chest. "Stop," you weakly command, "Stop this madness; there is no point to this futile sound effect," you spat out the last two words with as much contempt as you can muster, displaying exactly what you think of the spectacle.

"We will stop," O'Brien informs you gently, "when you cure your own insanity." The brief flicker of hope that had started to bloom within you died a spontaneous death.

"Never," you respond.

"I guess we will just have to do this the hard way," O'Brien seemed to shrug his statement out, "You think that we turned out the lights, correct?" He does not wait for any confirmation before moving on. "It is not the lights that are out. I can see perfectly fine from where I am, standing right in front of you. It is you who cannot see anything; you are blind, not only to your faults, but physically speaking too." You can just hear the enormous smirk he is sporting through the tone of his voice. "Imagine that; the bookworm can no longer read." You feel your blood boil at his taunt before finally comprehending what he said. You are blind; you can no longer curl up on a couch, reading a wonderful, suspenseful story. A feeling of profound sadness rises up in you as you mentally whisper your goodbyes to books.

Then you have a thought; something that scares but comforts you at the same time. You know that the Room preys on your worst fears. You know that you are afraid of dying, specifically dying by your own hand for no reason. Therefore, you concentrate on the image; a sharp, medium sized knife gleaming from the bright light that O'Brien described is sitting on a plain wooden table in front of you. Is this really what you want? Do you want to escape from O'Brien, the Thought Police, and the Ministry? Yes, you decide. You pick up the knife. You are no more.