Cassandra’s POV
I stood frozen in spot. It was pitch–black in the elevator. I couldn’t see a thing. My heart started racing
‘Don’t panic,‘ I told myself. ‘Stay calm.‘
But my breathing quickened as I realized that the elevator must have broken down. It wasn’t moving.
I reached into my purse, fumbling in the darkness for my phone. I pulled things out: a lipstick, a powder compact, a small notebook. I tossed them on to the ground. Finally, my hand found and I pulled it out.
“It’s going to be okay,” I said out loud. “You can phone Jordyn. He’s in the building and he can find someone to help you.”
But as I looked at my phone, I saw there were no bars. Which meant there was no signal
How could there be no signal?
“No no no,” I said as my hands started shaking. My mind filled with awful thoughts. What if the elevator cables were defective and the elevator plunged to the bottom? What floor was I on? How far up?
What if there wasn’t enough air in there and I ran out of breath? My knees wobbled.
Desperately, I tried to put through a phone call. But it didn’t work. I tried texting, but again, nothing. I even tried punching in 911. Nothing worked though.
The control panel was dark. I felt my way to where I thought it was. My fingers found the buttons and I pressed them, hard. All of them. But they were dark and unresponsive. The elevator was still.
‘The flashlight on my phone!‘ Thankfully, I turned it on, shedding a soft glow into the elevator. At least I could see now. I shone the phone towards the control panel. I saw the emergency call button.
Yes! Of course! I could press it and call for help. That’s what it was for, right? Emergencies like this?
I lunged for it, pressing it frantically.
“Hello?” I said. “Is anyone there? I’m stuck in the elevator. Please help.”
But there was no response. I tried this several times, growing more desperate with each time.
“Damn it!”
What good was an emergency call button if it didn’t work in an emergency.
My heart was beating so quickly I thought it would pound right through my chest. I was covered in a cold sweat. My vision
blurred.
I was breathing too quickly, on the brink of hyperventilating. It was making me dizzy. I knew I had to get a handle on myself. I couldn’t let myself panic.
“HELP!” I hollered. “PLEASE HELP ME!”
I doubted it would do any good though. Chances were I was stuck between floors. No one would hear me. But maybe I wasn’t?
I pounded on the elevator doors and hollered again.
ldn’t
I stopped. My breathing was becoming shallow. I backed away from the door. My breathing was becoming shallow get enough breath. There wasn’t enough air. I began to feel like I was suffocating, even though I knew it was probau, ust my mind playing tricks on me.
“People don’t die in elevators,” I told myself sternly. “Elevators break down all the time. Someone will know. They have safety measures in place for things like this. Someone will help you.”
Chapter 48: Trapped
+15 BONUS
But no matter how hard I tried to console myself, I couldn’t control my breathing. I was claustrophobic at the best of times. I avoided small, confined spaces for that exact reason. I’d taken a cruise once and had an inside room. I’d barely survived the cruise. Every night, I felt like the walls were closing in on me.
This was the same, but worse. What was wrong with the elevator? What if it was something major? What if they couldn’t fix it ini time? What if they couldn’t get me out? My thoughts started to spital.
What if I was stuck in here for hours? Days? I’d die of thirst. Or lack of air.
Oh God!
I was having a panic attack. My chest felt tight, like something was squeezing it. I wiped the cold sweat from my forehead. What if it wasn’t a panic attack? What if I was having a heart attack? That’s what it felt like. What if I needed medical attention but I was stuck here, in the elevator.
My knees buckled and a I dropped to the ground. The phone fell from my hands. I scrambled to retrieve it, then I went to a wall and sat, my knees drawn up to my chest, my head in my knees.
“Just breathe,” I told myself. I took long, slow breaths, in through my nose, out through my mouth like I’d seen patients do on fictional TV medical dramas. It wasn’t working though. I checked my pulse on my neck. It was way too high.
I was going to pass out. I felt woozy. I was going to die here, in this elevator, all alone. In a last ditch effort, I tried texting again for help.
Message failed to send, I read.
And then, just when my last thread of hope was starting to wane, I heard a faint sound.
It was a voice, coming from somewhere on the other side of the door.
And it was calling my name.
