You can call me 9217, it's the name on my arm. It was the first thing that I read after waking up. My home, my prison, this place consisted of three rooms. The first, where I woke up was a bedroom with a simple cot in the corner, a desk and chair.
The room next to it had a simple food unit in the one wall, opposite from that was a couch and media screen with thousands of hours of series and movies. Most I had watched multiple times. Against the wall with the door leading to the final room, there was a stationary cycle and a weightlifting station. And the final room, the final room was bare, concrete floors and walls like the others except for the one wall. It was pure darkness, ice-cold to the touch and smooth as glass.