I opened my eyes upon a bare white room. It contained only myself and a single white chair. The walls were eggshell smooth, perfect and unblemished, unbesmirched by any smallest speck of dirt or dust. The emptiness of the room was striking.

I blinked twice and then turned on the spot, eyes darting round the perimeter, searching for a nonexistent exit. The smooth walls extended around me like a virtual hug, impersonal but inexorable. I felt a cold quiver of claustrophobia climb my insides.

I quashed it and observed the lone chair. It was a stiff, upright wing style, upholstered in white on white brocade. The textured pattern shimmered in the diffuse white light, beautiful and cold, uninviting.

Upon the seat of the chair sat a white envelope. It bore crisp black letters, the only splash of substantiality in this blank place.

I picked up the envelope and read my own first name. The chill climbing my insides shot up through the top of my head. The crisp black letters seened to dance before my eyes.

Where was I?

Frantically I tried to remember where I had been and what I had been doing before arriving here. I remembered my whole pointless life--but not the past day. I remembered yesterday, brushing what was left of my teeth. Going to bed. Getting up this morning? I drew a blank. Had I gotten up at all?

Fear kindled a fire in my belly. I tore the envelope open. Inside was a sheet of thick, smooth, dead white paper, cut with more crisp black lettering.

There was one sentence written on the whole folded page.

Welcome to Hell.

Numbly, I sat down on the uninviting white chair and stared at the unmarked white wall.

I stared and stared. The room was silent. I could hear the rush of my blood.

I was alone with my thoughts.

Eventually, I started to scream.