KEMA

This is little tidbit of the story I’m writing called KEMA.
This is one of my favorite parts.

Amy shook her head and watched him walk away.
She collapsed in the centre of the circular room. Dead centre.
They left her alone with her thoughts. They never realized how dangerous that could be. Her mind wandered around her, cascading against the smooth walls.
The walls were white, like paper. Only one wall, really. Curling around her perfectly, with the exception of the crimson door in which the doctor had closed behind him.
She was forgotten within the arena.
“Arena?” She thought to herself. Why did she think of it as an arena?
It was small and lonely, with no indication that any public activity had occurred within it. Although, the ring of black leather stools that faced her with every turn could cause someone to think that way.
Head hung, Amy crawled in the direction of the door. As her hands hit the stark white tile, blood stained it red. Her blood. Her wrists were pouring tears.
She saw the blood and ignored it. She needed to get out of the room.
Upon reaching the door, the room danced and swirled before her. Rainbows of gray leaped upon every surface, and blurred her vision.
She screamed and scratched at the door, but she was too weak.
The last thing she saw was the doctor opening the door. And everything went black.