Chapter the First, in which our hero stares at the wall

She said she would come for me in four days. I’ve been waiting for twelve days now. I’d give up hope, but I’m just too lazy.
I stretch my arms over my head, easing out the kinks, and my eyes focus on the bathroom wall.
Stop sulking is written in black marker with cramped handwriting. The K is backwards. Great, dyslexic graffiti.
I blink, and the text has changed.
I’m not dyslexic. Now stop sulking.
“What do you want me to do instead?” I’m flexing my hands to keep the blood flowing. My body is not grateful for these past twelve nights spent on the cold tile floor.
Get me out of here.
I can feel my eyebrow arch up without command. “You’re a wall.”
And you’re a wuss. Now get me out of here.
I stand and walk the three steps to the sink. The water in the marble basin is cold – only cold. I splash some across my face, and what do I see in my reflection but that goddamned wall.
Allston Griggs – grow some stones and go out there on your own.
It takes me a moment to realize that I can read that correctly, not backwards, in the mirror. I spin around, but not quick enough.
What? it says. So not dyslexic, but definitely smug. And how the hell did it know my name?
Wait a minute, this is a wall we’re talking about here. The wall’s not talking to me. No, I’ve finally lost it, that’s all. Honestly, I’m surprised I haven’t gone insane before this.
You know you’re not insane. We leaving now?
I run my hands across my pants to dry them. Not clean, but that’s the best I’m going to get anytime soon.
“Fine. Let’s say I just go ahead and open that door, head out into the world. How are you going to come? Because, I do realize that I’m repeating myself here, but you’re a wall.”
Don’t worry about the details, young Allston. Just do it.
“It’s not like I’m not wearing Nikes…” I mutter as I approach the door. One last look over my shoulder, and now the wall is proudly displaying a smiley face.
I’d throw something at that fucking smiley face if I had anything to throw.
I twist the handle, and nothing happens. With a little more tugging, I feel the door budge. No, no, I imagined that.
“It’s stuck.”
Try again.
This time, I barely turn the knob at all, and the door comes flying in at me. I must have loosened it the first time. Yeah, that’s it.
I peek my head around the doorjamb. Nothing has changed in this institutional white hallway in two weeks. One fluorescent light bulb is flickering at the end, but other than that, it’s exactly as it was when she holed me up in that bathroom. No dead bodies, no destruction, no nothing. Just white walls and buzzing lights as far as the eye can see.
Can’t say I’m much surprised that life after the apocalypse is exactly the same as before, but then, I’ve always been a little cynical.