scraph

open that cabinet and grab the wonders that lie within

You figure it wisest to start small and work your way up, so you scoot gingerly along the bed to get a good angle on the cabinet.

Oh, huh. There's yet another door over there. When it comes to potential exits, you're almost spoilt for choice. Still, babysteps. You open the cabinet and sure enough, there's some stuff in it. Right at the back of it. Two smallish boxes that you're at a really bad angle to get at. This should not be an issue. You should be able to bend down and pull that shit out.

...

Dammit.

> Get on the floor. Crawling is still being able to move.

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Yeah screw it you can't get anything done like this. You'll simply push yourself off the bed and onto your knees...

...

The floor is okay. It's cold and hard and you disturbed a little dust when you flopped onto it but otherwise it's all right. Even your knees don't mind it. Much. You pause for a few very necessary breaths, then swivel round to the cabinet again. Turns out the cabinet is in fact a veritable treasure trove; from the bed, your view of the back left corner was blocked by the lefthand door, but from here on the ground you can see the pack of paper plates tucked away there. Wow. Oh, and there's a stapler too. Huh. And you've still got those boxes to investigate, so who knows what you might find...

It's pencils. Two boxes full of perfectly generic pencils. Not even mechanical ones, just plain old graphite sandwiches. And behind them is a box filled with perfectly generic bottles of what you think might be correction fluid. The label's a touch hard to read for obvious reasons. The inconsistency here bothers you.

Obviously, you would very much like to take all of this highly important stuff with you everywhere you go from now on. That's definitely a matter on which you've instantaneously developed an unfeasibly strong opinion, and sorting it out will be your number one priority.

...

You shut the cabinet doors.

Does the bed have sheets? Lacking alternatives, some sort of covering would be a good idea, at least to keep warm even if there's nobody to be indecent at.

Wherever you go next, watch where you step. The floor's pretty cluttered, and you don't know what might've broken or scattered when those shelves fell. Don't need any extra pain, right?

Your first impressions of the floor may have been a bit on the kind side. You thought it "cold" - now that you've spent a bit of time in close company with it, you'd like to revise that to fucking freezing.

It seems a bit odd, but there aren't any sheets on the bed. Heck, there's not even a pillow. That's pretty rough. Actually, you're not sure why you'd class that as "odd", given, you know, everything, but no matter. Oh, hang on - what's in the corner there, hiding beneath the bed?

...it's a rucksack, and a big one too. It's got lots of straps and compartments made of netting and a ridiculous number of pockets. You instantly regret the depth of your previous sarcasm and acknowledge this find as your due punishment. Not that you're gonna be wearing it, though. Not yet. You're still wriggling about the floor. You could put it on now, but then you'd look like a hitchhiking snail. You need to preserve what little dignity you have left. Also, since you're not exactly planning to hike up a fucking mountain any time soon, it seems entirely pointless.

...

You drag it out anyway.

>think logically: you had to get here somehow, and it doesn't make any sense to be put in a room without your clothes. therefore the best course of action is to search the room, if nothing comes up you're going down the rabbit hole of weird sooner rather than later.

But yeah, even though you're not sure what's going on, if you poke about for a bit you might begin to get an idea. Right now nothing about this situation makes any sense, but maybe you're just missing something. You wouldn't say you're in the best frame of mind, for instance; perhaps you're not remembering an important detail (your right arm twitches) or your mental processes are glossing over a key fact. Searching the room could well turn something up - who knows, you might even find a neat little letter explaining everyth- no shit hold up. Remember the magic sarcasm? You definitely don't want to come across an explicatory note. You'd absolutely despise full clarification of your situation, your surroundings, and your memorpain actually you know what you'd be incredibly distraught if your pervading pain were to magically vanish right this instant that sure would suck big time.

...

Well, you can't spell "optimistic" without "oh piss". Assuming, of course, that you're really bad at spelling...

open that

door!

Get on the floor.

Everybody do the dinosaur!

You've just resolved to search this room (reasonably) thoroughly. You may have misjudged yourself slightly; currently, your viewpoint leaves a lot to be desired and your mobility is greatly limited by the barricade of fallen shelving that cuts the space in two. There's an obvious way of dealing with both of these obstacles simultaneously. It begins with you leaning on the bed, then leaning against the cabinet, then fumbling desperately for both or either, then swearing very loudly, then flailing wildly and strutting backwards like a chicken that dressed up as a T-Rex for Halloween. Oh great, you remember that Halloween exists. That's nice. What's not nice is the fact that the table you grasped for is on casters.

...what was that about your dignity again?

whatever you do, don't fall over

How the fuck are you still upright? Your legs are burning so much you're scared they'll char.

go through any door!

That's it. This is insufferable. You're getting out of here. This room is shit and dark and cold and full of traps and stationery cupboard rejects. Maybe somewhere nearby there is another human being who could help you not feel like total shit. Your options for exits are the totally not suspicious no-longer-a-double-door, the door in the corner that requires you to somehow navigate around furniture and the new entrant with the push handles which would require you to walk over one of the shelf racks. Urgh. Okay, fuck it, pick the middle option. You can probably manage to slowly steer yourself around, "slowly" being very much the operative word...

...is that... are you seeing... it's a keyhole, isn't it?

OF COURSE IT IS OF COURSE IT'S LOCKED HOW COULD YOU POSSIBLY HAVE EXPECTED OTHERWISE?

Northp.

...perhaps you were being a touch rash. At least you've established that you are capable of lurching about the place now. Oh, and you're still cold and thirsty and really, really confused...