Night 52: Waiting Room/Lobby 1
[from here]
The visitation room itself was no more spectacular when the sisters entered it than it had seemed from the doorway, at least in the glimpses that Ema could discern from the limited illumination provided by her and Lana's flashlights. It was nothing more than a lobby, not at all unlike the waiting room of every doctor's office Ema had ever visited. The illusion that this place was a hospital for the mentally ill was terribly comprehensive, down to every detail. Ema wasn't sure if she should feel comfortable in the mundane setting or be unnerved by the fact that the head doctor really had thought of everything.
Once the sisters were fully inside the room the intercom clicked on. The improved sound system--not to mention Ema's own improved hearing--made every little auditory cue practically echo in her ears. Breathing. Groaning. A slap. Pain. Movement. Misery. And that laugh. The doctor's words only half-registered in relation to the sounds the microphone picked up alongside them, leading Ema to the obvious conclusion: he still had Jill prisoner, and he was torturing her. An acute feeling of horror welled up inside her as her grip on Lana's hand tightened significantly; the increased pressure stung, but Ema ignored it. Out of the horror grew a sense of indignant and righteous anger. How dare he--
The thought never had a chance to fully form. A horrible whine abruptly shut down every coherent thought Ema had in favor of the sheer pain inflicted by the noise, causing her to cry out and cover her ears. Ema didn't even stop to consider that she was holding her sister's hand or a flashlight; both were dropped without warning, the flashlight cracking as it hit the floor. The noise was accompanied by a disorienting burst of sudden light, which Ema closed her eyes to block out.
Ema remained frozen for several moments, hunched over and doing her best to barricade herself from the unexpected stimuli as she took several deep, shuddering breaths to keep herself from screaming.
The visitation room itself was no more spectacular when the sisters entered it than it had seemed from the doorway, at least in the glimpses that Ema could discern from the limited illumination provided by her and Lana's flashlights. It was nothing more than a lobby, not at all unlike the waiting room of every doctor's office Ema had ever visited. The illusion that this place was a hospital for the mentally ill was terribly comprehensive, down to every detail. Ema wasn't sure if she should feel comfortable in the mundane setting or be unnerved by the fact that the head doctor really had thought of everything.
Once the sisters were fully inside the room the intercom clicked on. The improved sound system--not to mention Ema's own improved hearing--made every little auditory cue practically echo in her ears. Breathing. Groaning. A slap. Pain. Movement. Misery. And that laugh. The doctor's words only half-registered in relation to the sounds the microphone picked up alongside them, leading Ema to the obvious conclusion: he still had Jill prisoner, and he was torturing her. An acute feeling of horror welled up inside her as her grip on Lana's hand tightened significantly; the increased pressure stung, but Ema ignored it. Out of the horror grew a sense of indignant and righteous anger. How dare he--
The thought never had a chance to fully form. A horrible whine abruptly shut down every coherent thought Ema had in favor of the sheer pain inflicted by the noise, causing her to cry out and cover her ears. Ema didn't even stop to consider that she was holding her sister's hand or a flashlight; both were dropped without warning, the flashlight cracking as it hit the floor. The noise was accompanied by a disorienting burst of sudden light, which Ema closed her eyes to block out.
Ema remained frozen for several moments, hunched over and doing her best to barricade herself from the unexpected stimuli as she took several deep, shuddering breaths to keep herself from screaming.