I felt a hard, cold surface under my body. The pain began to disappear and my vision started to focus. I looked down at myself. I expected to see gashes in my chest and stomach and cuts on my arm. But there was nothing. I carefully lifted myself off the floor. I was in a room, but who's? The surroundings weren't familiar to me. A black comforter covered the top of a neatly made bed. There was gold lace thrown across the comforter and the frame of the bed was a shiny black. The bed was so big, it took up most of the wall it was on. A dresser was positioned beside it. I walked over to the dresser. A mirror that resembled mine sat on top. A brush and book were neatly placed in front of it. I ran my finger along the brush's bristles and picked the book up. My eyes scanned over the gray-colored cover. It seemed like something personal, a diary maybe. I placed the book back down, trying to remember the exact position it was in before. I took one more glance around the room. It was so simple yet extraordinary. 

My feet made light-tapping sounds as they directed me towards the door. I stared at it for a second and then began to slowly move my hand towards the knob. The touch of the knob was a little icy. My whole palm felt stiff, as if it had been frozen. I started to move my hand in a turning motion, but didn't feel the knob turning with me. I tried again and received the same result. I placed both my hands on the knob, squeezed, and gave it a hard turn. There was a sudden pop noise as the knob gave way under my strength. Moisture had formed on my palms and they had turned a bright red.