“If we haven’t already, I assume we’re not going to now.”
She huffs. “That’s reassuring.”
“Relax. It’s only, like, two floors anyway.” Reaching into my back pocket, I pull out my phone. It has one bar of service, and I’m not quite sure who I’d call for help anyway. The building staff knows we’re in here.
Regardless, the girl bangs loudly on the doors. “Hey!” she shouts before trying to pry them open. Of course, they don’t budge. “We’re stuck in here!”
“Not sure that’s going to do any good,” I mutter. “If the power is out in the whole building, there’s nothing the staff here can do for us. They’ll have to call out an elevator technician, and who knows how long that could take?”
As I search up their number in my directory anyway, I hear a strange wheezing sound, scratchy and fast-paced. I scan the small space, thinking maybe there’s an animal clawing at the wall.
“Oh God, are you okay?” the girl asks with a fear-laced voice.
Glancing up, I see the other man in the elevator is pressed against the corner. His lips are parted, and his eyes are shut. His chest is heaving unnaturally, and even in the dim red light, I can make out his pale complexion and sweat beading along his brow.
“Hey,” I say, pocketing my phone and stepping up to him. “Breathe, man. It’s okay.”
There’s a wheeze in his inhales that makes me very, very uncomfortable.
“He’s having a panic attack,” she shrieks, and we crowd around him before I think better of it.
“Back up,” I say, pulling her away with me. “Hey, man…” I call.
“His name is Julian.”
I glance down at her and then back up at him. “Julian, open your eyes,” I say. “Look at me.”
“I…can’t…” he stammers breathlessly. “Open the doors,” he pleads with hysteria. “Open them. Open them. Open?—”
“We can’t open them.” I keep my voice calm. “But the power is going to come back on any second. Just take a deep breath.”
“Let me try,” the woman says as she shucks off her jacket. Her soft hands touch his cheeks, and she angles his face down toward hers. I watch in amazement as she presses her forehead to his. “Breathe with me, Julian. Nice and slow.”
“I can’t,” he says on a gasp, growing erratic and angry.
I consider banging on the door or calling for help, but I know that’s only going to make his attack worse. Instead, I take her lead and pull off my coat and scarf.
“Let’s all take a deep breath together,” I say.
“Inhale for five seconds,” she says and starts counting.
“One, two, three, four, five,” we say together.
“Now, exhale for five seconds,” she says.
“I–I can’t,” he stutters. “Fuck. Get me out of here.”
“Calm down, Julian,” I say, noticing the terror in his voice and on his face. For reasons I don’t understand, I reach out and wrap my fingers around his hand. Squeezing tightly, I try to ground him, but I know that in his mind, the walls of this tiny box are all closing in. He might be a prick, but right now, I feel bad for him.
And I certainly don’t need to be stuck in an elevator with a dead guy.
The girl is still holding her forehead to his, and I’m clutching his hand, and we do the counting for a while longer until Julian stops cussing and starts to look more angry than terrified.
“Why don’t we sit down?” I say lowly, and the girl nods.
Still holding Julian, she tries to ease him to the floor, but he jerks away from her hands. In a fit of frustration, he rips off his jacket, and I worry for a moment that he’s about to lose it. We don’t have enough space for him to start really freaking out.
When he opens his eyes, his gaze collides with mine. I put my hands out toward him like I’m approaching a wild animal. I let him watch me as I lower to the floor, my back against the mirrored wall of the elevator. My legs are stretched out in frontof me, and the girl, whose name I still don’t fucking know, sits between us.
