"It's too quiet in here," Gwen says to herself pacing around the small room. She had been in
locked in place for at least a week now. "If this is some kind of psych ward, where are the other
people," she asked. Beside the occasional staff members, she hadn't heard or seen anyone.
At first it was a nice reprieve. The first time she'd really had alone in ages. No horrible challenge
coming at any time. But that wore off quickly. She was beginning to really hate the silence. "What
is this, Solitary Confinement? Is this some kind of treatment, or punishment? Whoever's idea
this is sick," Gwen said. "There has to be a way out, right," She then asks getting more anxious.
Being locked away in the small, dull room was starting to remind Gwen of " Phobia factor" from
season one, being buried alive, and again in the revenge season, or going underground to save
Chris when he was kidnapped by Ezekiel… If someone wanted to punish Gwen, this would be a
good way to do it. The door seemed to lock from the outside, which means Gwen would have to
find a less conventional way out. The room was blank of pins, files, screws, or anything that
could fashion a lock pick. From investigating the small cell-like quarters she found a possible
exit; in the form of a small air vent. "I really don't want to crawl in there. Maybe it won't be the
worse thing ever," She said to herself pacing around the room anxiously. The young woman
thought she had been shoved into enough small spaces for a lifetime. All for that goddamn
money… That was all she had to do. "Oh come on, Gwen, after everything you've been though
for that damn money, this stops you? What a joke," She reprimands herself. She then stands up
on nightstand under the vent and tries to reach it. After a few seconds of struggling for balance,
she manages to place her hands on the vent panel; only to find it screwed into the wall with four
phillips heads. Gwen lets out a cry of frustration. She climbs down and starts to search the room
again for a lock pick while mumbling some hate filled comments about a certain sadistic reality
show host. There was no clock in the room, so Gwen had no idea it was feeding time. The same
blonde-haired young nurse from all this time walked in with a tray in hand. "Good morning miss
Chernyavsky," Nurse Frisk said. "Oh, is it morning? I couldn't tell, since you all are keeping me
prisoner and don't even have the decency to at least have a clock in here," Gwen stated glaring
at her. She couldn't really tell how long she had been "under observation" as they put it. Though
to Gwen it was just a another word for torture. "So, nurse Ratched, what is there today," Gwen
asks with a mock smile. "Well, breakfast is Oatmeal and fruit, but again, stop calling me that, my
name is Amy Frisk and you are not Jack Nicholson," the young nurse said trying to be patient.
"So then, you've heard of a movie from the '70s but not Total Drama," Gwen asks suspiciously.
"There is a perfectly good reason for that," Nurse Frisk said looking Gwen in the eye. "Yeah? And
what would that be," she asked cynically. "There was never a show," the nurse began slowly.