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“What the fu—” Matthew didn’t get to finish his words because the lights went out, replaced by the very dim emergency light.
Immediately, my heart sunk to my stomach as panic laced my entire body which was now unable to move. I was immobile as a chill went up my spine. My heart pounded against my chest and my ears as my palms started to go clammy, and cold sweat wrapped me like saran wrap.
Raw fear consumed me and Matthew’s voice was nothing but mumbled sounds as my heightened emotional state interfered with my ability to process and understand his words. My ears rang, and my chest tightened, making it difficult for me to breathe.
Memory and reality mixed as my knees buckled and eventually gave out.
“Fuck!” I could hear Matthew yell, my vision doubling as he guided me to sit on the elevator floor.
The dim lights cast eerie shadows on the confined space, and the once-familiar walls of the elevator seemed to close in on me. With each passing second, the room felt like it was getting smaller and smaller, suffocating me with its oppressive presence.
I tried to take a deep breath to steady myself, but the darkness around me seemed to have a life of its own. It was as if the shadows were creeping in from all sides, threatening to engulf me as my chest tightened. The claustrophobia intensified its grip on me, making me feel like the very air was becoming heavy and unbearable.
I felt numb and broken, my mind betraying me with images of my past. I trembled and tears and sweat soaked my face.
“Please, no,” I begged with a sob. Because now, we weren’t in the elevator, and Matthew wasn’t in front of me anymore.
Instead, it was my father. And he was very, very drunk and angry, thrashing all of Mommy’s china on the floor.
And I wasn’t in the elevator.
I was back in California, and I was the scared little girl hidden under the kitchen cabinet in fear that he would find me, yell at me, and curse at me because I looked just like my mother.
Chapter fifteen
Matthew
I wanted to break the elevator doors open when I heard Reagan’s pleading voice. But it was pointless because the arrow that was pointing at the floor numbers told me we were somewhere between the seventh and eighth floors.
Her breathing hitched immediately when the car rattled and the lights went out, and I could tell that she was panicking. Her eyes were out of focus, her stare blank and her chest rising rapidly.
“Reagan, are you okay?” I asked when I saw her lips going pale under the dim light. Fuck! I knew I should have prioritized that battery backup and that emergency intercom. But the budget didn’t have room for elevator upgrades this year and the board had decided to postpone the elevator maintenance until next year. Guess we were now making changes to that choice.
The backup generator usually worked immediately so I didn’t know why the power wasn’t back yet. I wanted to call Clair and see what was happening but my mind was elsewhere.
The panicking blonde beside me had my attention and right now, and instinct told me that I needed to prioritize her safety. Was she afraid of the dark? Was she having a panic attack? I couldn’t help the surge of frustration that coursed through me.
“Reagan,” I called again. But she wasn’t responding, it was like she wasn’t hearing me at all. Her lips were shaking, and it didn’t take long before her knees started to buckle.
So I held her as she slowly sunk onto the floor, panting, as if there was no more air left here. I grabbed the coffee cup from her hand and put it to the side before it could spill on her shirt.
I tried to call her name again, to no avail. I held her cheeks as panic washed over me when I saw that her eyes were blank and empty. Then a sob escaped her, followed by her distressed voice.
“Please, no,” she begged. And for a moment, I thought that she was talking to me. That she no longer wanted my touch. But then her next words crushed me. “Daddy, stop.”
The world shattered in front of me as Reagan, the woman I had always seen as strong and outgoing, was broken in front of me, trembling and weeping. And her father was the culprit.
“C’mon, darling,” I murmured under my breath as I grabbed her chilly hand and brought it to my lips. “Your father’s not here. It’s me.”
Her breathing was still labored, and a soft wheeze followed every time she inhaled, and it worried me that she might pass out.
What the fuck was happening with that generator?
When her sobs grew loud and thick, I turned on the flashlight from my phone, hoping that it would help her make sense of her surroundings.
The sting of the bright light grabbed her attention, her doe eyes focusing on me, recognizing me.
“Matthew?” she mewled, more tears rolling down her cheeks. She closed her eyes in relief as she buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking in even more frustration.
