Terror box (short)

I am awake. I'm not sure when I woke up or when I became aware of it, only that I'm awake. I haven't opened my eyes but I know I must have rolled of of my bed in the night as the surface beneath me is too hard to be my mattress. I think about climbing back into bed and just going back to sleep but I can't muster the will to move so I just lie there.

Eventually, I open my eyes and glance around my room, only, it's not my room. I seem to be in in a concrete box with no doors or windows and there is nothing in here except me and a dim, flickering lamp on the wall. No doors or windows? That doesn't make any sense! How did I get in here? Damn, I must have gotten really drunk at that party last night! No doors or windows... There is something significant about that but my sleep befuddled mind can't quite process what it is. My head is starting to hurt and my mind is as cloudy as my memory. Wait, that's not right! People's minds get less cloudy the longer they're awake not more! No doors or windows...

Oh no! Oh no, no, no!
It's getting harder to breathe! My mind is foggy because I'm running out of air! I'm gonna die in here!

"HELP!!" I scream at the top of my lungs, "Help! I'm in here! I'm trapped! HELP!" but either the walls are too thick or there is no one around to hear me, because no one answers my plea. There are black spots in my vision and I'm struggling to stay conscious. Oh how easy it would be to just let go and slip into the welcoming arms of the nothingness in my mind. My lungs are screaming at me, begging for air.
My eye lids feel heavy, like they're made of led and my limbs are weak from lack of oxygen. I can barely move my arms. I I hear a voice.
"Help me!" I try to scream "I'm in here! Help!" but my voice has long since abandoned me along with any hope of rescue. The voice I heard, I realise, was probably nothing but the whispers of the wind; taunting me.
Maybe it was the sounds of the dead, beckoning me into whatever comes next, if anything at all.
Or maybe its just the false hope of a girl left for dead, a girl who's mind is falling apart, degrading from lack of oxygen and the acceptance of her imminent death because no one would save me now.
As my eyes flutter closed one last time, I think about everything I haven't yet done, and everything I have: all the apologies I never got to make, the things I never got to say, the things I wish I could take back. But its too late now. Tears roll freely down my checks and I make no effort to to wipe them away, not that I could move now, even if I wanted to. My body is wracked with uncontrolable, silent sobs. Because its not true, what the tell you in movies, when the brave characters give their lives for those they love, they tell you that you can feel brave in the face of death. But they are wrong. Because no amount of movies can prepare you for the moment you realise that you'll never walk on this Earth again. That you'll never again fell the warmth of the sun on your back or the grass underfoot. I thought I was prepared, I thought that, when the time came, I'd welcome death like my next adventure. But now that that time is here. I realise that I'm not ready to go.
Because no one can remain brave in the face of death. The realisation comes slowly. It is only when you are inches from death that you finally realise that your time has come. That no-one is going to save you. Until then, until that moment right before you take your last breath, somewhere in the back of your mind, you have some glimmer of hope.
Eventually, I slip into unconsciousness, allowing my mind to slip away from my body, away from the pain of death. I suck in one last shallow breath of air, breath it out, and finally, lay still.

I jerk awake with a start.
I opening my eyes and I glance around my room, only, it's not my room. I look around, I'm in a concrete box with no doors or windows, there is nothing in here except me and a dim flickering lamp on the wall--
"N-n-no," I stammer "NO!" Not again! I can't go through this again. I can't. I won't.
But I must. Because this?
This is my punishment. This eternal loop of misery.
As they, in life, suffered at my hands, I must, in death, suffer the same fate.
The same painful death.
Over and over. Over and over. Over and over. For the rest of eternity.

This is my eternal punishment.