It wasn't until the alarm resounded through the quiet corridors that I was able to identify that lingering smell. Smoke. It was all in my head, I told myself, yet the sudden shaking of my hands convinced me otherwise. I had a brief moment of panic, tapping the tips of my fingers against my lips urgently as I thought of what to do. I took a deep breath and counted to three. What was the procedure again?
I peered through the window in the door. The corridor was suddenly filled with alarmed faces and hospital beds. I was torn. As a doctor, I knew I should be out there helping the others, evacuating as many patients off this floor as was humanly possible, but the little voice inside my head was telling me to wait it out, to wait until the sea of bodies in the corridor became so dense that I could practically slip out of this room and to the safe outdoors without so much as a hand on my shoulder.
It's now I realise I have wasted ten minutes creating my plan of action. Cursing myself for not making a quick and rational decision I stride purposefully towards the door and yank on the doorknob. Nothing. I burrow my brow in confusion and turn the lock; sure I hadn't touched it since taking refuge. Still nothing. My attempts at opening the door became more urgent as I realisation dawned. I stuck one foot tight on the door and pulled the handle with both hands. No budge. I felt the beads of sweat start to trickle down my forehead as the seriousness of the situation starts to sink in.
I was stuck. I was stuck in a room. I was stuck in a room with a broken door. I was locked in a room. I was locked in a room, in a hospital which just so happened to be emitting a strange smokey smell and eerie shrieking noise. I was trapped. Yet, amidst all the panic, there was one burning question (pardon the pun) that just wouldn't leave my mind. How flammable is my hair gel?
TBC.