Stuck in the Elevator Again | ONC 2022

Loop 1.3

Last edited: 25/4/2022
[Roselyn]

I don't know how long I've been trapped in the elevator, but I'm pretty sure I have grown fifty years older during the wait.

After who knows how long, another jolt wakes me up from my pleasant nap.

Groaning, I rub my tired eyes and massage my aching neck. My bones pop non-stop as I move my stiff muscles.

I twist my head around to find Mr. Uburg arising from his position and heading towards me.

His shadow looms over me as he presses the emergency button. Instead of the monotone, an infuriating sizzling sound comes through. He jabs it a few more times, each receiving the same response.

Mr. Uburg closes his eyes in defeat and rubs his palm against his face. I can see a hint of weariness and impatience leaking through his perfect expression, and I mentally smirk at the sight.

You see, it isn't every day I can see a multi-millionaire boss in an unfavorable situation. And to us peasants, it is quite a sight to see.

Mr. Uburg moves a step back and leans onto the wall next to me. He shoves his hands into his pocket, releasing a mute scoff.

"Stop gloating. I'm not interested to die with some malicious murderer."

A scowl takes over my features. I throw him daggers flagrantly and derive a courteous smile.

Just then, the lights start flickering; the elevator swings back and forth like the pirate ship in the amusement park. The lower part of the elevator starts to dent.

Thwack, thwack, thwack.

What the fuck is happening?

I suck in a deep breath. The possible reasons behind the sway and the banging scare the shit out of me. My hunch tells me that whatever is happening, it is far from good.

Exhaling through my flared nose, I fight the urge to spit out whatever compliment my mouth is trying to form.

Guess my filter is not fixed during my cute little nap.

As if to make a fool of me, the elevator blacks out, leaving us both in utter darkness.

Standing up abruptly, I stay still in my place, my body shaking involuntarily. My pupils dilate as overwhelming stress immerses me, lunging for me and tugging me down.

I hear Mr. Uburg's voice right beside me, "calm down, miss."

I bite my cracked lips hard, tasting the blood on my inner lips. My brain keeps commanding my body to relax, but my cramp fists, convulsing muscles, and labored breathing resist with all their might.

I want to puke. And I can't breathe.

Mr. Uburg must have noticed my abnormal silence. In a few heartbeats, his heat wraps around me like the warm duvet I use in winter.

"Hey, you're going to be fine. Take a deep breath, hmm? It's fine, I'm with you. Now, if you are willing to, we'll do breathing practices together, ok?" In between my inner quarrel, I can hear Mr. Uburg's murmur beside my ear and a pair of warm hands keeping me steady by my shoulders.

I will never be fine! Don't you understand? I am a failure. I failed to protect my sister, and the world is now rejecting my presence by tossing me away like used trash. Why should I fight back? No one is going to accept a coward anyway. I am useless, useless, useless.

Uncontrollable tears roll down my cheeks. Suffocating constrictions of my chest cause me to gasp for air with all my might.

My muscles are so tight, so out-of-control, so limiting. Why can't I stop? Even though I despise myself, I don't want to be in this state! I hate being in this state!

"Hey, it's ok. Let's try breathing exercises, hmm? Good. Now, inhale deeply... hold your breath... ok, exhale. Let's do it again, inhale... hold... exhale..."

Is he helping me? Breathing exercises, ok, ok...

Minutes later, I finally allay my fear and panic, with them replaced by fatigue. My knees buckle, but Mr. Uburg catches me by my elbows before I can romantically kiss the floor.

He assists me to sit down, handing me a tissue. The thought of asking where it comes from pops into my mind, but I push it aside, accepting his offer.

Using the tissue to wipe the cold sweat from my forehead, I close my jaded eyes as helpless tears continue to roll down my cheeks now and then. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Thump. Thump. Thump.

The hard banging on the elevator door draws our attention back. In the dark, any sounds are magnified.

As I'm aware of my surroundings now, it only adds to my trepidation. My tense jaw muscles tick as I grate my molars.

Crack. Clunk.

That is the sound of metal breaking. I am sure of it.

But who is lurking outside? The maintenance crew? The firefighters? Why the fuck do they have to create so edgy and apprehensive sounds?

My lungs start constricting painfully again. Stop. I have to stop overthinking. It's going to be fine.

Munch. Stomp. Groan.

Light comes through the tiny puncture. Finally.

First, a beam shines through, then a shaft, and finally a gap.

With the limited illumination, I make out three fingers situating themselves onto the elevator floor. Blood-red covers the tips.

Why will there be red paint on fingers?

A long-lost dreadfulness pours into every pore of my body as a grim augury preoccupies my distressed mind.

Stop, don't overthink! Breathe, Rose, it's going to be fine!

I unconsciously scoot to the back of the elevator, pressing my body close to Mr. Uburg's as I cling to his robust arm.

Fingers turn into two hands as they grip the elevator door and use bare strength to rip the metal further apart.

Don't think about it... it's going to be fine...

The hands, along with a shadow, flicker and disappear from my sight.

Phew. It's just some prank... right?

I stay still in my position, still digging my nails into Mr. Uburg's arms as I stare wearily at the gap.

But then, moments later, a blood-plastered face comes into view. His bloodshot eyes bore into me with such intense hunger, it tangles me up like an invisible net and paralyzes me on the spot. Patches of flesh on his forehead and cheek are torn from his profile, the revolting appearance causing bile to pile up and burn my throat. His nose is gone, replaced by a seeping wound. It was torn apart so thoroughly one would have mistaken that ripping a nose is as easy as ripping a sheet of paper. His teeth are crimson-red, a piece of fiber apparently stuck in between the gap of his incisors.

His horrible state is terrifying. But what frightens me most is the emotions in his eyes. The craving for flesh and blood. The desire to fulfill his hunger. The look of a predator finding its prey.

I do the only reasonable thing.

I scream.