The Bathroom
You enter the bathroom. Its peculiarity strikes you at once — there’s no mirror and no windows. A dim light seeps through the cracked door. There’s a singular, claw-footed tub in the center of the room. No curtain surrounds it.
Despite the peculiarity of the room, it’s clean. Even sterile. You take a glance around and realize there’s not much point to being here. As you turn, a stream of light glints off the bathtub in a strange way. You turn towards it and notice that the tub is filled with water. Shaking your head, you once again move for the door, but it clicks closed as you approach. Though strange, you refuse to let your heart rate rise because of such a trivial occurrence. You reach for the doorknob but it won’t turn. The brass is slippery, a thin coating of condensation over it. You dry it off with a sleeve and try it again, but the knob won’t turn — the door is locked. Heat begins to rise up the back of your neck. You try the knob again but you’re certain now that it’s locked. You throw a shoulder against it but the door is solid and won’t give. Sweat begins to pour down your back and from under your arms. You roll up your sleeves against the rising warmth and take a few steps back, run at the door using your whole body as a battering ram.
No good.
Wiping sweat from your brow, you try to inhale deeply, but the air is heavy and hot and humid and you can’t seem to snatch a good breath. You look around and realize in the extremely faint lighting that the room is filling with steam.
You circle the room, palms pressed to the dampened walls, hoping for any give, any secret lever, any way to get out. But the steam keeps rising, keeps thickening, and soon it’s hotter than a sauna.
You become exhausted, slip on the floor slick with condensate and crumple into the corner. Breathing is nearly impossible as the temperature rises even more. You’re too tired to shed any layers, keep searching for a way out. The air is so hot you can feel your skin prickle and blister as it burns, as if someone has thrown you into a pot; as if someone is literally cooking you.
You wheeze and struggle for your last few breaths but can’t grab a hold of oxygen. You lose consciousness.