Pencil, Paper, and Passion.

Chapter Fourteen: Repercussions.

My head was pounding incessantly when I came to.  Groaning, I lifted my hand to it, trying to remember what had happened.  Realization struck when I opened my eyes and saw only darkness.  They put me in a closet!  I sucked in a sharp breath, sitting up quickly.  The throbbing in my head became more pronounced but I gritted my teeth and forced it to the back of my mind.  I climbed slowly to my feet, letting my eyes adjust to the dark.  When they did, I took in my surroundings.  Shelves.  Bottles, buckets, brooms, and mops.  I was in the janitors' supply closet.

Not for long, I thought determinedly, moving to the door and grasping the knob.  It turned easily in my hand and I smirked, pushing.  But the door didn't budge.  The smirk slipped from my face as I twisted the knob harder and pushed with all my might.  Still, it didn't move.  I swallowed down the panic rising in my throat and let go of the doorknob.  I closed my eyes and took several deep breaths, trying to think rationally.  The knob turned easily but the door wouldn't open, which meant someone had locked the padlock attached to the door.  On the outside.  What else...?

Phone!  My hands had gone to my pockets before I remembered what I was wearing.  Sundresses didn't usually come equipped with pockets and I'd been forced to put my phone in my bag.  Frantic now, I dropped to my hands and knees, searching for my book bag.  If I could find my bag, I could get my phone from the side pocket and call somebody for help.  When I came up empty handed, save a few discarded rags, I had to sit completely down to fight back the hysteria.  What was I going to do?

I couldn't get out.  I couldn't call for help.  I pulled my knees up to my chest and wrapped my arms around them, rocking back and forth.  I don't know how long I sat that way, fighting back panicked tears, but eventually I snapped.  In seconds, I was on my feet and at the door, screaming.

"HELP!  SOMEONE HELP!" I used my fists to beat on the door, hoping someone would hear.  "PLEASE!  LET ME OUT!" 

I kept beating against the door, even when my hands began to ache and sting, screaming all the while.  Surely someone was still in the school and would hear!  When I remembered that this hall was rarely ever used, even by the teachers, my hysteria rose higher and I beat harder on the door, open palmed.  My face was soaked with tears and my screaming was impaired by the sobs tearing through my chest, but I didn't stop.  I was in full panic mode now and the only thing to stop it would be the opening of the door I was pounding on.

"P-PLEASE!  HELP ME!  LET!  ME!  OUT!"  With one last wail, I slid down the door, to the floor, sobbing in earnest now.  Nobody was going to come.  I wasn't getting out until morning, when, hopefully, someone came down the hallway.

I was still sobbing, beating weakly against the door with the side of my hand when I heard voices.

"Isn't that her bag?  Jesus, that's her bag.  Nick-"  One panicked voice spoke quickly.

This voice was much calmer, but fear still leaked through.  "Shit.  Get one of the cops, Jason.  Hurry!"

I recognized two of the voices and I scrambled to my feet, screaming again, "MR. GALLAGHER!  MR. AVERY!  I'M IN HERE!  LET ME OUT, PLEASE!"

I began beating on the door again, fearful that they'd walked off and wouldn't be able to hear me.  But my hopes were answered.

"Jason!  Get back here with your keys!  Hurry up!"  The sound of running feet and then the jingle of keys.   I stopped beating on the door and laughter began to mix with my sobs.  I leaned weakly against the wood, trying to calm myself down.

Mr. Avery's voice came through the door.  "Elizabeth, are you all right?"

I swallowed back another sob and managed to shout back.  "I'm fine, I th-think."