The Isolation Experiment

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I stared, cold metallic door, heart racing, anticipation. Dr. Ryan Thompson, lead researcher, handed me small journal. "For thoughts, Emily. Capture detail," he said. Calm, sharp contrast to growing unease.

"Got it," I replied, trying, confidence. Journal's weight oppressive, constant reminder, isolation ahead.

Chamber sparse: single bed, desk, small bathroom. No windows. Fluorescent lights hummed, eerie glow. Shiver, spine. Thirty days alone. No human interaction. Just me, thoughts, video journal.

Recording began, nerves steadying. "Day one. Excited, nervous. Wondering what'll happen. Crack? Inner peace?" I paused, glance around sterile room. "Feels like tomb." Voice trembled.

Routine simple: wake up 7 a.m., exercise, journaling, reading, video journaling. Silence oppressive, adapting. Writing short stories, exploring creativity. Days blurred, indistinguishable.

Tenth day, something shifted. Faint hum echoed, mind. Spinning, expecting someone. No one. "Hello?" whispered. Silence. Scribbled journal: "Day ten. Hearing things?" Shiver. Losing grip?

Reflection stared back. Hollow eyes, pale skin. Humming noise louder, mind mantra. "Hello?" whispered, hoping. Silence.

Days blurred. Time meaningless. Forgot name, past, purpose. Chamber walls closing, suffocating. Dr. Thompson's voice echoed: "Emily, focus." Focus eluded.

Equipment malfunctioned. Lights flickered. Shadows danced. "Someone's here," whispered, convinced. Paranoia consumed. Scribbled furiously: "Day fifteen. Losing grip. Reality blurs."

Cryptic notes scattered, chamber: "Not alone." "Escape." "Trust no one." Who wrote? Researchers? Fractured mind? Searching, darkness only.

Hallucinations intensified. Voices argued, head. "I'm real." "No, you're not." Screamed, voice shattered. Darkness closed, suffocating shroud. Sanity teetered.

Stumbling, darkness. Desperate escape. Voices screamed, "Break free!" Pounded door, pleading release.

Dr. Thompson's calm voice, intercom. "Emily, experiencing critical breakdown. Ending experiment."

Door slid open. Bright light assaulted eyes. Shielded face, stumbled. Researchers rushed, restrained.

Struggling, glimpse of video journal. Haunting message: "They lied."

Dr. Thompson's smile twisted. "See, Emily, true experiment wasn't isolation. It was manipulation."

Chills down spine. "What did you do to me?" whispered.

"Created perfect subject," Dr. Thompson replied, gleaming eyes. "Mind shattered, rebuilt, forever changed."

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