"Seven Rooms, No Exit"

The first thing Daniel noticed was the silence.

Not just the absence of noise, but the kind of silence that pressed against his ears, suffocating, deliberate. He opened his eyes slowly. The room was small, square, and windowless. Sterile white walls, a single flickering bulb overhead, and one door. It was made of thick wood, bolted shut from the other side.

He didn’t remember how he got here.

The only thing on the floor was a slip of paper.

Room One: Wake Up. Remember Nothing. Proceed.

Daniel stood, his legs trembling like he hadn’t walked in days. His head pounded with a dull ache, and a fog sat heavy in his mind. Still, he reached for the door. To his surprise, it creaked open.

The hallway beyond was dark, but he could make out the outline of another door at the end, glowing faintly. He moved toward it, each step echoing like gunshots in the dead silence. The second room was entirely different.

Room Two: The Lie

The walls were covered in newspaper clippings and photographs. Every one of them featured him. News headlines screamed accusations:

“Daniel Graves: Tech CEO or Criminal Mastermind?”

“Insider Speaks: He Knew the System Was Broken”

“Missing Funds, Missing People—What Is Graves Hiding?”

His breath caught in his throat. He backed away, bumping into a mirror. His reflection stared back—older, sunken eyes, a jagged scar across his temple. He didn’t remember any of this.

The door opened on its own this time. Another note was stuck to it:

Keep moving. You're getting closer.

Room Three: The Memory

This room was a child's bedroom. Soft blue walls, stars on the ceiling, and a familiar scent—lavender shampoo. On the bed sat a stuffed bear. Daniel’s knees gave out. He knew this room.

A child’s laughter echoed faintly. He turned toward the sound, but no one was there. A music box played on its own. He opened a drawer and found a picture: himself with a little boy in his arms. Both were smiling.

“Eli. My son.”

He gasped. The memory came flooding back. The accident. The fire. The screaming. The loss. He clutched the photo to his chest, tears spilling silently down his face.

The door opened again, revealing darkness.

Room Four: The Truth

This room looked like an interrogation chamber. A single chair sat under a spotlight. On the wall, another note:

Sit. Watch. Understand.

Daniel obeyed.

A projector whirred on. A video played. Him. Standing in front of his board of directors.

"We’ll move the assets offshore. By the time they notice, we’ll be gone. The system’s broken anyway—we're just playing smarter."

He flinched. The video kept playing. Hidden meetings. Falsified reports. Collateral damage.

Then came the footage of the protesters. Of Eli’s daycare—caught in the crossfire of one of his company's “urban redevelopment projects.”

The silence screamed.

Room Five: The Question

This room was empty, save for a table. On it: a revolver, one bullet, a timer counting down from 60 seconds.

One way out. Choose.

Panic overtook him. His hands shook. He didn’t know what was real anymore. Was this a test? A prison? Hell?

The timer ticked down.

When it reached zero, the gun vanished. The door opened. No escape. Only forward.

Room Six: The Watcher

Seven monitors lined the walls, each showing a live feed of a different room he had just passed through. And one more: a seventh room. Empty, waiting.

In the center of the monitor bank was a large eye, blinking.

A voice crackled through the static:

“You built the maze, Mr. Graves. You made your choices. This is not punishment. This is understanding.”

He screamed at the monitors, at the eye, at whatever force had caged him in this mental maze.

“I didn’t know! I didn’t mean for any of it—”

But deep down, part of him knew that wasn't true.

Room Seven: No Exit

The final room was pure white. Blinding. Infinite. But the walls were there—just invisible. He touched one and felt cold glass.

A single chair sat in the center.

He sat.

No door opened this time. No note. Just silence.

And then: a mirror descended from the ceiling. Not of glass—but of memories. His whole life. Every lie. Every truth. Every choice that led here.

He screamed. Pounded the walls. Begged.

But there was no reply.

No whisper.

No door.

No exit.