Phantom Touch | Minho |

Chapter one

Everything was metal.

The walls around me. The deafening, echoing noise that filled my ears. The taste in my mouth. All of it was metallic.

I was moving, ascending. I could feel the rush in the pit of my stomach. Up and up I went, a gust of wind blew down on me as I coughed up bile on the grated floor.

It took me a moment to be aware of my own body, my heavy limbs and straggly hair brushing the side of my face. Short shallow breaths filled my lungs, causing my chest to heave against my legs which were pulled tight against it, a cool wall against my back.

I turned over my shoulder, tracing a hand along the cold, hard surface my back had been pressed up against.

More metal.

Let me out, I thought.

My thoughts, however, were my only companion in this dark void that entrapped me.

A helpless sob escaped my lips as I slammed a fist against the wall of the rising contraption again and again.

No, now is not the time to panic. Focus.

I stumbled along to the corner of the compartment, struggling to find my way in the pitch black. The ground rumbled underneath me, threatening to knock me off my feet.

Pull yourself together. But how could I? I had no recollection of how I got here. Come to think of it, I had no recollection of most things. It was as if someone had cracked open my head, stolen everything important, and left only the basic necessities.

That's wrong. That is very wrong.

Tight fists pressed against my skull, as if I thought I could cram my slipping memories back inside of it.

Do not panic. Quick, name three things you remember. Fine, that was good. Distract myself, that's what I needed to do. Clouds, bonfires, sidewalk chalk.

My foot caught on something, causing me to lose my step and fall to the ground, hard. The only thing that caught my fall was my own forearms.

Bicycles, coffee, the ocean.

Propping myself up again, I began to search the floor for the cause of my misstep. The source found my fingertips in the dark, the sharp corner of a box. No, not a box, I realized as I felt the cool metal bars. A cage. something moved inside of it.

Hot cocoa, skyscrapers, nail polish.

A piercing scream now left my mouth as fear once again seeped into my bones. I scrambled back, slamming against another metal wall.

Don't panic. Don't panic.

I was panicking. There was no doubt about it.

There was a pounding in my brain, perhaps from the clanging and grinding of the metal walls around me. Any concept of time had vanished with my composure. I could have been in there for hours for all I know.

A final screech of metal sounded throughout the cage before it lurched to a stop. It was followed by an empty, hollow silence that soaked into my skin and rang through my aching head.

Time passed. No one came.

The thought of screaming for help crossed my mind, but my throat felt dry, as if I had swallowed a mouthful of dirt. I didn't know if I wanted to be found anyway.

Maybe no one was coming. Maybe I should just lay down and die.

A door was forced open above me, bathing the metal lift in a blinding shower of light that scorched my eyes. I shielded my face from the flood of luminescence, instinctively recoiling into myself.