Go to the doors.

Almost no time passes before our Faux Genius gets tired of the common room. She stomps right up to the one pair of doors. But alas, a thick chain has been looped through both handles, fixed together with a padlock dangling from a pair of iron links. Any escape attempt not already doomed by the lack of servicable hands, would most certainly be thwarted by that iron loop.

Their color matching that of the walls in which they are embedded, the doors appear to almost mend together with the white concrete. A gap in the doorway, which access they guard, can however be discerned at the edges which define the doors. The signage on the right door says Rubrum Clupea Harengus, a message clearly beyond this girl.
Oh, tragedy of tragedies.
If only there was a non-faux genius around who could illuminate this riddle for her.

Seems to me that she's far better off giving up on this avenue. Or better yet, give up on freeing herself entirely. Just enjoy her stay. Find a way to become a little less mental.
But what do I know? I am merely the all-knowing narrator who constructed this realm with my god-like powers.

Feel free to disregard my advice at your leisure.