The White Room - Part IV | Pushing the Wave

The White Room

Part IV

Story, 22 April 2024
by L.A. Davenport

From the collection No Way Home

The White Room by LA Davenport
The White Room
The woman lies in the bed, staring at a shadow on the opposite wall, trying to imagine it as a picture frame. The folding chair is gone.

The room is suffused with a soft, hazy brightness, and she is drifting in and out of the enveloping mist. She is a boat moored in an endless, white ocean, drifting back and forth with the tide’s rolling swell.


She pulls back the sheet in one fluid movement and reveals her naked body. The coolness of the air brings her out in goosebumps and she shivers. She runs a hand over her soft, pale skin, feeling the bones pushing through.

She places a foot on the floor. The tiles are cold, and she lets the chill creep up her body. Eventually, she pulls herself upright and steps out of bed. She steadies herself and then walks over to the bathroom in the corner of the room.

She sits on the toilet, perching her feet on the balls to minimise the cold. A memory drifts across her mind and her face crumples.

She forces herself to urinate, pushing the liquid out from her, listening to the splashes echo around the tiny, cold room.

She turns on the shower and waits for it to heat up before stepping inside.

She cleans herself, slowly, deliberately. The suds slide across her skin and the steam rises up around her. She drifts into the clean and white mist, falling through the billowing light. She pushes her hands down her thighs and flicks her hair, arching her back and squeezing her muscles tight. She runs her hands between her legs and pulls a finger heavily across her clitoris.

But she feels nothing and her face remains calm and impassive.

The walls of the shower become rough against her skin. The water lurches perpetually from hot to cold, and the cheap shower gel irritates her. Coldness seeps in from the room, tugging at her, pulling her back.

She turns off the shower and grabs a thin, rough towel. She dries herself slowly, deliberately. As she passes the bathroom mirror, she sees a flash of make-up and a sparkling cocktail dress. Who was that?

She stops and goes back into the bathroom, but all she sees in the mirror is her gaunt, pale body. Her thin breasts hang down over her ribcage.
© L.A. Davenport 2017-2024.

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The White Room - Part IV | Pushing the Wave