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"And why is that?" I demand, infuriated.
"Because I won't get to see you."
Is this man daft?
The Adam I remember was aloof and cold. This man is nothing like him!
"Look," I say, tightly, 'for the last time––"
The elevator suddenly jerks, and the lights go out.
I go still.
"What's happening?" I ask, my voice unsteady. "Why aren't we moving?"
"There must be some issue with the elevator," Adam murmurs. "Wait."
He presses the emergency button, but nothing happens. He presses it again.
"It's not working?" It's hard to keep my voice calm.
"That's odd," Adam tries again. "It usually lights up."
He looks around. "The emergency lights should also have turned on by now."
I wrap my arms around my middle. "M-Maybe they'll turn on soon."
When I was young, I would often get locked in the broom closet. It was a dark enclosed space that smelled musty and was always filled with spiders. As I grew up, the space became smaller and smaller until I would often find myself cramped. I have severe claustrophobia as a result. Even in a large space like this elevator, in the dark, I feel like I can't draw in air.
I've always tried to hide my weaknesses, but some just can't be hidden.
My hands are trembling as I quietly gasp, feeling as if all the oxygen is drying up, as if the walls are closing in around me. My heart is beating so fast, desperation clawing inside of me.
I can't breathe.
I can't get enough air.
I––
A pair of arms wrap around me, and a firm voice orders, "Breathe. Breathe, Cynthia."
I have to be strong. I can't let him know––
"I c-can't!" I gasp out. "M-My heart. My heart feels like it will burst!"
Two of my greatest fears combined–small spaces and the dark–have me trembling against my will.
"Nothing is going to happen to you," Adam says, his voice permeating through the darkness. But it's not enough. Nothing is enough. My legs feel weak, tears streaking down my face.
"I want to get out."
"Cynthia," Adam sounds alarmed, "Cynthia, look at me."
But I feel blind. Even with a wolf's eyesight, I can't see anything. My fingers dig into his shirt as I cling to him. All feelings of shame and humiliation have gone out the window. This is about survival.
"I can’t breathe," I whimper, my heart pounding against my ribcage. "There's no air."
Adam is quiet for a moment, and then he murmurs, "Then take mine."
