I was in there for at least a few hours, with my father trying to get me out and pick the door’s lock.
As I am typing this, I had just changed into my evening clothes (a “duster”, as we call it here, but the closest garment I can think of is a “sundress”) after at least 2 hours of being butt naked. I had gone outside to buy medicine for myself, and looking for a store that was still open which sold cellophane and wooden baskets, because most of the stores will be closed for tomorrow, and probably would not be back to normal operation until Sunday.
I decided to take a bath, because it has been ridiculously hot and humid, and I felt awfully sticky. I closed the door without locking it, and quickly remembered that I had to get the clothes I would be changing into, as well as my towel and bathrobe.
I tried to open the door, but it didn’t budge.
It locked on its own, mere seconds after I had closed the door. It couldn’t be locked from the outside, since the button on the knob was inside, and there was no keyhole by which it could be opened. My father tried to break me out of the bathroom, by slipping things through the very narrow space between the door and the wall — a “thank you” greeting card, two of his old bank passbooks, and his credit card. It did work in the movies, after all, right? If this doorknob was the kind my father and I thought it was, that should happen, but the thing is, this wasn’t quite the doorknob we assumed it to be. I could turn the doorknob very easily, even more so than in its normal, unlocked state, so I already figured that the doorknob had detached from the “lock bolt”, or whatever that’s called.
I decided to take a bath anyway, as my father told me that he’d have to find some tools to assist in the process. After I took a bath, I called for him, and we resumed business. He had asked me to describe the bar I could see through a small crevice, and I told him that it was “completely planar on my side, and it didn’t move even when the entire doorknob was shaking”. Understandably, I was panicking. Since I also wash all kitchen wares and utensils inside the bathroom (the pantry faucet is clogged, and the pipes under the sink are leaking), I found a lone spoon on the sink, and used it to try lifting the base of the doorknob from my side of the door. I only managed to loosen it by a bit, albeit not enough to turn it counter-clockwise.
Nothing my father tried from the outside made the doorknob budge or even loosen on his end, either. He had to call someone to help him out, and I was told to just stay put.
… I did stay put a little too well, if I had fallen asleep on the toilet bowl for who knows how long. I had to be careful with breathing when I woke back up, as I could feel like there was less breathable air inside the room. I only managed to open the window by a small amount, for I’m nowhere tall enough to push it open wider than it already was. Even just a little bit of air from the outside would help, after all.
While I was still trying to lift the doorknob’s base from inside with my trusty spoon, someone was pounding against the doorknob with a hammer, pushing the doorknob closer to me, until there was enough space for me to turn the base counter-clockwise, and dismantle the knob itself, the base, and two screws, which I had unscrewed with just my hands. My father was rather surprised to learn that I didn’t need to use any mechanical tools to do so, but I suppose despair can sometimes work its wonders.
After a few minutes of hacking away and crushing the bolt into pieces (as it was stuck into the wall and could not be taken out otherwise,) the door knob was completely dismantled,
Wow, that was rather exhausting. ;__;