The Elevator

The elevator was bare as he had known it would be, he had, as usual, planned for it to be this way. He walked inside slowly, looking around, a small triumphant sigh escaping his slightly parted lips. 'At least it didn't take so long this time' he thought to himself as he pressed number 6 and watched the doors closing. He was relieved he was half way through this tormented journey. He hated to be in close proximity with people in general, but with strangers? That was just unthinkable. It always left him feeling suffocated and uncomfortable, left him counting down the seconds and minutes in his mind, his eyes constantly moving, seeking for a place to rest without having to be met continuously with the endless dead eyed stares and unfriendly glares with sickening intensity, from the strangers all around him, which without a doubt, would always be focused on him and only him. All of them.

It was one of the reasons he would hold back every time he had to use the elevator, a public space of any kind, the odd instances where he would have to leave the comfort of his home, the sheltered amenity his life revolved around. Venturing out to any other place where interaction with other people was inevitable, was a rare occurrence but was something he so desperately feared, would spend weeks meticulously planning the óuting, ensuring his safety, assuring he would return home without harm.

The internet was a godsend and because of it he rarely had to leave the comfort of his home at all. His bubble of contentment, of safety and invincibility; the sacrality within was glorious, addictive and was something he would never become bored of. But he had been alive for many years before the internet was born and had developed his own ways of bringing his protection bubble with him, whenever it was necessary to leave the house. 

That is why he would hide back, would linger and observe with intense concentration, his surroundings; the people, the sounds, the conversations. Peeking around corners, slowly inching closer, trying to grasp what others were doing. His life revolved around it. Around avoiding people, keeping himself to only himself, isolated. And when communication or interaction with people couldnt be avoided, he detested every minute of it. Feared it. Was repulsed by it and would be willing it to be over quickly, swiftly so he didn't have to endure it for longer than necessary. And as much as he hated these experiences because of past torturous feelings and memories it provoked within him, he also apprehended it because he hated even more, the feelings he always felt when confronted with the fact that he wasn't normal, was incapable of it and there was nothing he could do to change that.

Suddenly his thoughts were struck from his mind as the elevator he stood in shuddered to a terrifying halt, with a frantic grasp his vision became obscured, lights flickering brighter and dimmer, off then back on, until the light was squashed and forced from the space entirely. With it happening so acutely and without warning, the sudden jolt into darkness, pitch darkness that now surrounded him, sucked him in intensely. So heavy was its force it left him disoriented, bewildered. 

He closed his eyes and took in deep breaths, his thoughts confused, chaotic and running amuc inside his mind, smashing into the other making it impossible for him to think or process his predicament. He opened his eyes again, looking up and around slowly. 

The darkness in the small steel boxed elevator was all consuming. The endless blackness so dense his eyes could not adjust. On turning his head in every direction he was met with the same heavy darkness; placing his hand in front of his face he couldn't make out any shapes. He was feeling crushed, delirious, caged and restrained. And on top of this lingered an overwhelming sense of dread and fear, their weight heavy on his shoulders. He was too frightened to move, feet planted in the ground, his body rigid and tense from the shock of being thrust into complete darkness. He sunk to the ground anguish welling up.

With his head resting on the cool steel elevator wall he closed and opened his eyes, blackness everywhere. Like an alien world of endless nothingness: silent, bleak, seeming to go on continuously, no matter where he looked. Nothing distinguishable, just repeated anguish like the vast space his whole world was contained within. He felt as though he had been there forever, time had no presence here.

After a while he noticed his breathing had returned to a steady rate. He felt himself calm albeit unwillingly, but the rigid stance he had previously held was now relaxed. He could physically feel the fear and tension drain from his body. And as this thought fluttered through his mind, within his mind's eye he began to see a silent scene conjuring before him. A Dream. An image forming up ahead. He lent forward, his heart fluttering, some help arrived, to save him, rescue him from his torment. The image of a hospital bed flickering in and out of view, out of the vast darkness, small glitches of it; like an old tv set unable to produce good quality pictures, the picture understandable, decipherable, but weak. But it was improving; with every second he watched, the scene became clearer.

How easily he was captivated with the scene didn't register in his mind. The paper textured hospital curtain pulled round to preserve the dignity of the ill or injured person behind it. To protect them from the eager eyes, the lusted intentions of ill thinking people he could sense all around him. The end of the bed poking out from the curtain allowing him to distinguish what he was seeing. Then he noticed it. The human forearm and hand, dangling off the unseen bed, it was just visible, the arm drooping down, the fingertips becoming red from the pressure of the blood flow. The dorsal side of the hand containing an IV was pale, its catheter wedged into a bulging vein, thick dark colored blood being sucked from the vein and down the IV line was something he could not take his mind off. A body being drained of blood, that was quite obvious. He stayed in the darkness, peering on as the blood was continually pulled from the vein, being sucked downwards into a large white catherbag being held in a deep, yellow plastic tray; reminding him of his cat litter tray at home. The bag already bulging with blood.

In this trance state he stood in the Elevator with his eyes closed, with his thin eyelids fluttering cartoonishly as his eyeballs darted around underneath, processing the images his mind was producing. Himself focused solely on the scene before him. No thoughts for where he really was. His conscious mind being pulled into the false reality, he felt as though he could walk right up and take a closer look. Was tempted to pull the curtain back and watch the person behind it, to watch them as they were drained of blood, of life.

Then he allowed himself to enter deeper through the invisible world he could see ahead of him. He inched forward out of the blackness towards the curtain. Like an orphaned wild baby animal, creeping out of the darkness inching closer to life, to interaction it so desperately craved. His feet sliding slowly, too heavy to pull off the ground, both here in this strange realistic reality, and in the elevator his mind had forgotten. His heart rate began to rise as he became excited at the prospect of what he was about to see, lurking behind the curtain just a few metres ahead of him. And as he got closer, the bright lights and unique sounds of the hospital machines began to break through his focus, alerting him to his wider surroundings.

He moved his deep set fixed gaze; steady, pointed, and threatening, away from the curtain briefly to look at the new arena and take in the hospital scene that surrounded him. 

But what he saw stunned him. He was in a long corridor, he could tell that's what it was because there was a slight familiarity about it. But it was no normal hospital corridor, it was abnormal looking, stretching on and on infinitely, like looking through a giant tunnel, with lights at separate intervals throughout, but with no end, no matter how much he squinted to try and see. Turning around he could see the corridor behind him also stretched on repeatedly. And there was nobody else around, just the rhythmic beeping, looped, high pitched working sounds of hospital machinery. The endlessness of the corridors provoked strong feelings of isolation within him, of a peculiar terror he knew was warranted but its source unknown, but the isolation and detachment he felt was strong and lingered throughout his presence, with a thicker and higher concentration that he had ever intentionally inflicted on himself.

And still, like clockwork, he turned back around, drawn instinctively again to the curtain. A desperate need to know what was behind the curtain pushing him on. Small dark thoughts permeating his mind, like the energy of forgotten and angry souls, guiding him into darkness, into torture, into evil. He gladly listened to them, that horrible dead set look now taken over his eyes once more, his impassioned eyes fixated only on the curtain now just inches in front of him. 

The curtain looked bleak and bedraggled, creased and unclean. Those facts only now seeping into his realisation, but not affecting him at all. He didn't give a damn how clean it was. The hand and arm continued to protrude from behind the curtain and he felt that familiar excitement beginning to brew within him and the power he would soon have. The hand and limb white, seemingly lifeless. 

Having the power over somebody was what really drove him on. Having the power to drastically change a life with the victim present but unable to stop it. There, but unconscious. It was what kept him alone at home. Somewhere deep down inside he was scared of what he might be capable of. But right here was his very own personal fantasy displayed in front of him. His chance. He would not let this moment pass. 

It was what was drawing him to the curtain, the almost certain unconscious victim on the other side, in a vulnerable and precarious situation. The victim's blood already being drained, for some reason unknown to him, but it was a bonus for him. It was a real depiction of all of his darkest fantasies. He would be able to live out his dimmest delusions, have the power to quickly alter or even end that person's life if he felt the need to arise. With his heart beating faster with each new thought that swept through his mind, he continued his slow, never reaching walk forwards. 

As he continued forwards, the surrounding noises became louder, random and abstract. Echoed beeping, sounding in a continuous manner, doors creaking in the distance, soft steps unaccounted for, pattering in the far distance. The beeping stops slightly, then begins again at a lower frequency, on top of that a higher frequency sound then begins. The sounds of many different machines working simultaneously. Phones ringing, muffled conversations now taking place around him; the sounds non stop, on a repeated loop now heightened, booming at deafening levels in his ears, like they were being screamed through a foghorn; for his attention alone. 

Suddenly he felt so small. All thoughts of the curtain, of anything, escaped him, just the bewildering, raucous, clamor of the rapid activity around him was all he could focus on. The sounds were so strong and fierce, he could feel the weight of them, threatening to push down on him, to crush him. Like huge mountains towering either side of him in all directions, their soundwaves aimed solely on him; flying at him like invisible Condors. He couldn't move away from them, couldn't escape their overpowering and almighty energy with him too small in comparison, like an Ant trying to fend off a Lion. He closed his hands over his ears, making no difference to the penetrating sounds around him, praying for peace, praying for quiet.  

Just when he could take no more he began to hear words, decipherable communication forcing its way through the cascading noise.

'Ýou know what is happening Martin….'a loud voice echoed out around him, seeming to come from above.

'Here you will realise the truth'' the voice continued, the words resonating.

At the very moment the lights began to shine brighter and the noise changed, becoming a high pitched ringing in his ears. Louder and louder, becoming insufferable. Something he had never experienced before. So high-pitched he thought his ears might pop or his brain would explode. The sound was so thunderous but shrill; it was forceful and all consuming. He let out an almighty scream, veins bulging , hands over his ears, eyes tightly shut and let the fear, rage and built up lunacy escape his body.

As the monstrous sounds began to dissipate, the thoughts of their invasion still lingered, his whole being shaken, terrified. His heart beating fast in his chest, he was uncertain, as he dared to open his eyes once again.

Looking around timidly the unnerving feeling seeping into his bones, jibed at his ribs, invisible energy, unseeable threats.

He was right outside the curtain. His arm being pulled upwards unwillingly, thrust in front of him, his fingers grasping the curtain. He fought with himself to not open it; now wanting to leave, to not see, but it was like his body was no longer under his control. He pulled the curtain back and let out a short, anguished roar.

He saw himself on the bed, flopping sideways, as though he had been flung there carelessly, his legs strapped to the bed, his face a mask of pure frozen panic. But the look of his face terrified him the most, it was emaciated, almost vacuum packed, half screaming out in agony it seemed. He was clearly deceased. His eyes gazed over the rest of his body in awe, unable to utter a word, in complete shock as he tried to process the scene. His body's blood being drained, thick globules of it already congealed in the yellow container below.

As suddenly as it had started the images before him began to disappear, began to crumble around him, small pieces at a time. The curtain, his face, his body, slowly disintegrating before his eyes, leaving just patches of the image. He was rooted to the spot, staring at the tumbling scene before him. The utter surrealness of it was terrifying. And as the picture broke and fell away, tumbling down like a building being demolished; it revealed the darkness behind it. The pure, pitch, dense and everlasting blackness. Confused, Martin looked around frantic and desperate. The blackness was too much to see, nothing upon nothingness all around in every direction he looked. It brought back the realisation of where he was. 

Slowly he let it sink in. He remembered this darkness but from where he couldn't pinpoint. Walking slowly, his arms outstretched he blindly felt around, trying to clutch on to anything solid, finding nothing. Then communication boomed out of the darkness and silence once more.

''You have been shown something here today Martin, you must take heed and change. Cleanse your mind and see the good instead of the bad. If you don't, you will manifest into your darkest nightmare.' The voice was low, calm and controlled but resonated and it sounded exactly like his own.

He heard it loud and clear but also far away and many times over. As the words began to disperse and disappear a sudden bang brought him out of his reverie. The louding creaking, buzzing, clicking and flickering. And then bright lights gleamed on again, with the power of the Sun he instinctively raised his hands to his eyes, the small elevator now visible. His eyes wide, taking in the scene, the small boxed space, his mind unable to comprehend what had just happened.

Moving his arms away from his face he noticed an IV wedged into his hand, he looked at it, his stomach jolting. Standing up fast he turned around frantic for the mirror. Seeing his reflection he let out a blood curdling scream as he looked into the vacuum packed, frozen, immoveable face staring back at him. His screams and whimpers barely getting through his half opened mouth. The terror inside him was overwhelming and unbearable. He closed his eyes again, his heart filled with despair. Then the loud ping of the elevator alerts him, its doors sliding open, forcing him to turn around and open his eyes.

Seeing smiley and happy people enter the elevator, just a normal day for them, blissfully unaware of his inner torment, startled him. They looked over and smiled pleasantly at him. That action swelled his heart and he felt the need to run over and hug them, craving their attention.

He slowly looked back at the mirror on shaky legs. But his face was glowing, unblemished, beautiful, approachable. He stared back in awe. Turning back to the people and smiling hugely at them, staggering relief washing over him, feeling truly happy to interact with them, utterly grateful at their presence.

With a sense of freedom and excitement leisurely hanging over his shoulders he left the elevator happier than he had ever been.