Time for Tea, dear!

Prompt

You are locked in an empty room with no clue how you got there.
The only thing in the room is a book.
You open the book to the first page and read, ' And then the door opened'

And at that point the door opens
What happens next ?

Entry

I wake up gasping. My eyes squint painfully at the harsh sunlight flooding insensitively through the small window above my bed. My arms instinctively reach out to shield them.

They find that my neck and forehead are beaded with sweat and soaking strands of hair stick to my temples. Catching my breath I reach out to the glass of water that rests usually on the table beside my bed. I find none. 

I take in a deep breath, while images from my nightmare rush to taunt at me in intimidating, accusatory tones . “ Relax, it’s just a nightmare”, I tell myself. “But they feel so real”, a scared voice responds. 

I look around to find myself in a strange place. The air is heavy with the stench of clinical sanitisation. A small cupboard stands at the foot of my bed. At the end of the room is a closed door. My head hurts as I try to remember how I got here.  I return my attention to my breath trying to remember - “where is this place ?” , “how did I reach here ?”, “what happened last night?”

I put my wobbly feet to the ground to stand. Dizzy , I gingerly stretch my hands out to regain balance. Water, my parched mouth needs. I must find water. 

I squint at the glaring, harsh sunlight coming through the window - 'What time is it?'
There is no clock on the bare walls. I feel my wrists for my watch, I find a patch on the back of my hand. 

Oww, that hurts. I notice that I am wearing surgical robes ? why ? Was there an accident?

I groggily find my way to the door, only to find it locked.  There seems to be no latch, or lock or keyhole - Only a handle that wont twist or turn or bend.
Well, I try to break it. With all the strength I can muster.

I claw at the door with my nails, only to realise they have been clipped neatly.  My hands begin to hurt as I become more frantic. 

I break into a sweat as I began to think, 'What if I want to pee? Or poop?' Panic sets in and along with it comes the flooding urge to pee. 

 'Control', a voice quietly commands in my head, 'You don't want to embarass yourself'

Terrified, I begin to shout for help  - “ Can anyone open the door ?”
Banging at the door, I scream to no avail. The effort wears my body as I slump down on the floor. Defeated and distraught, knees bent, hunched on my feet, back against the door, I start to cry.

And then suddenly as I sit there crying,  the comforting aroma of freshly baked tarts, cakes and cookies wafts through the spaces around the locked doors - vanilla and cinnamon !

And then it all starts making sense. Tania, it has to be her! Mum must be baking cookies, and tarts for Christmas surely she would have wanted to eat all the deliciousness, all by herself !

So this is her clever plan - As everybody slept in the sultry afternoon, she must have locked me from the outside and raided the kitchen.  What a pirate ! - She doesn't share mum's cookies and nobody knows!

Except for the little fact that I do know ! And once she is done finishing the cookies, she will  stealthily open the door assuming I am asleep and pretend as if nothing ever happened. 

A wave of relief washed over me as I found an explanation to what was going on. But it seemed strange that I didn’t remember this room. As I stood up confused my eyes fell on a table.  A table I had not noticed before. On it was a book. A book - how strange.
I turn to the first page and read, ' And then the door opened'.

At that moment, the door actually opened. A kind-looking lady wearing clothes like a nurse’s smiled gently and said, 'Time for tea, dear'. A small, plastic tag, clipped to her lapel read,  'Anita'. 

Hah! Touche , Tania, clever anagram -  I chuckle to myself.  You keep thinking I'll never know your secret. I play along her charade feigning innocence. Checkmate!

Epilogue

Outside Head Nurse Anita signals to the attendants to get the first-aid kit immediately, all the while smiling with the kind of kindness that breaks the limits of endurance.
She asks her colleague to urgently send for the head of the hospital. 

Her note reads - 

'Emergency. Patient Tania has hurt herself again. For several days now, she has been harping excitedly about writing a new story but has so far only written this much - 'And then the door opened''