GET OUT

[Lucy]

...wwwwell, if the concern is infection, try'n wash your wound in the spray like you did your hands? if. you can get back to the blue door and back again.

You chuckle.

You're going to stop putting this off. You apologise in advance to yourself, this isn't tenable. You need help that's simply not forthcoming and aren't prepared for triage with what you have.

You shuffle yourself over to the red door where the bomb is still set up and press both buttons.

YOU HAVE DIED!

Congratulations! You found 1 secrets, collected 0 keys, defeated 0 enemies, made [NaN] friends and opened 3 doors.

______________________________________________________

You. You have existed in this world for one singular second. You aren't as panicked as you would otherwise be, but you still hate it here.

You know where you are. Your head no longer hurts. You collect your known supplies on the 17th shelf in the supplies room and sit back down against the wall with the pencil in your hand. You make some notes about who has been helpful and who has sent you horrific visions of brightly colored toys. You "see" their names, some are guests. Another wrinkle in your eternal punishment you suppose.

You refuse to think out loud what you are writing down. Keep em' guessing. But you're done with your notes. This may effect how you react to certain voices and commands. You think to yourself, has anyone here realised you have an axe? Why are some of you nice and others not so much.

What is to be done?