Darkness, my old enemy

After spending the whole night tossing and turning, the night finally gave way to another wet Seattle morning. It might sound odd to some peole, but I liked the gray and drab weather the city usually had, as compared to sunny weathers.

It felt much more peaceful and cosy, like being surrounded by a fluffy blanket but still being comfortably cool. But today, even the gray skies couldn't hold my attention as my stomach was too knotted to enjoy the light drizzle that had started before dawn.

I gazed out of the window, lost in thoughts about day that was about to come when I heard a soft knock on my bedroom door. My best friend and roommate entered just as I turned, carrying the breakfast tray and wearing puppy a dog expression.

"So, I made you coffee and butter toasts," Shayari started, placing the tray on the bed, but before she could say anything further, I walked up to her and threw my arms around her waist from behind.

"Don't you dare apologize, Shy. I was angry and embarassed and was being stupid last night. It really was not your fault, that I sent that email to him," I mumbled into her dark hairs and felt her sag in relief.

After coming home last night, I had removed all my anger and embarrassment on her, claiming it was her fault I had written that wretched email in the first place. And even though she had put up a good defence for herself at the time, I knew her over sensitive guilty conscience had convinced her over the course of the night that it was, infact, her fault.

She turned around and hugged me back, as I continued, "besides, its not that big a deal, anyways. Atleast now the jerk knows how annoying he truly is. That'll teach him not to mess with me."

She snorted and pulled back, eying me with amusement. Even though she was the same age as mine, Shayari had a kind of lightness about her that made her look much younger. At 5'4, with long, black curls, beautiful, wheatish skin and an ever-present sunny smile, it was hard to picture her as a straight laced, strict highschool teacher.

"Yeah, that's exactly what your email conveyed," her voice clinked with hidden mirth and she rolled her near-black eyes at me. I playfully shoved her off before tying up my own hairs and practically diving onto the bed for breakfast.

She took a seat on front of me, unconsciously straightening the pillows as she frowned.

"What are you going to do at work today?" she asked, and I shrugged in exhaustion. I had asked myself this very question the whole night, and had only managed to come up with one answer.

"That would depend on what would he do," I answered in a resigned tone.

What would he do?

I mulled over that question the whole way to work, thinking of all the possible ways he would react to the email.

My stomach twisted horribly as I imagined the worst case scenario, where he would officially complain against my misconduct but I quickly shoved that thought aside. Can't linger on it or I'll be tempted to avoid work altogether today.

But then again, I thought, if he had to do something he would've done it yesterday. Unbidden, his text message came to my mind and I shivered. I did not even want to think what his word meant. Something in my mind knew I would do well not to try and decipher the real meaning behind his words.

By the time I reached InfoWeb Softwares, I had made up my mind to be an adult about it and pretend like yesterday never happened.

That I never sent the email from Hell to Shayari and that Mr. Torp- um, Cross never saw it. That was the only way I would be able to look at him in the eye, I decided.

Taking a deep breath, I entered the glass office doors, sans coffee today and pasted on a tight smile for Ellen. She stretched her blood red lips in a piranha-like smile, returning my sentiments in kind.

Ellen and I were very close once upon a time. Being first cousins we had grown up together. But it seemed that no matter how long you've known someone, you can never really know who they truly were. Briefly, I tried to remember the time when we used to be inseparable, but it was like a trying to dredge up a long-forgotten memory, just like most of my childhood had become.

Marching to the bank of elevators, I fiddled with my wrist watch and huffed when I realized I had just missed the elevator that was going up. Standing alone now, I pressed the button, to summon another one and saw one climbing up from the underground parking lot.

As the red light climbed up to ground floor, I mentally started making my to-do list:

1. Ignore taking any personal calls during work.

2. Draft minutes of meeting from last week.

3. Ignore Ellen Cole.

4. Finish log reports.

5. Ignore Caleb Cross.

6. Get his coffee.

7. Ignore any reference of yesterday's mishap.

8. Email minutes of meeting from yesterday.

Just as I had some semblance of control and professionalism, the doors slid open to reveal Mr. torpedo wrapped in another one of his silk black shirt, gray blazers and that know-it-all smirk. He stood leaning against the back metal wall of the elevator, looking unsurprised at the sight of me, whereas I felt frozen for a moment, not expecting to have to face him so soon.

His eyes locked on mine somewhat triumphly as if he knew he'd catch me here, and offered me his irritating smirk, "need a lift again, Ms. Brooke?"

Briefly contemplating to brave 36 flight of stairs on foot, I straightened my shoulders and marched inside choosing to ignore his jibe with a polite, "Good morning to you too."

Refusing to look at him, I stared as the doors slid close and the numbers climbed up, keenly aware of his invasive gaze on me. I cursed my luck to be caught alone with him in a place where I cannot escape him. Suddenly, elevator that is capable of holding 12 people at a time seemed small enough to feel like a broom closet.

Just as the elevator crossed 35th floor and I was about to breathe a sigh of relief, the ground beneath me lurched and we were plunged into darkness.

No, no, no! I hated darkness. Always had. I hated how close and oppressed the blackness felt. It somehow felt like there was an unknown weight building on my lungs, making it difficult to breathe.

And just to make it worse, Caleb's amused voice rumbled, "Hello Darkness, my old friend."

How could he be amused when we could be falling to our deaths any second now? How can he not be worried that we could suffocate to death if we weren't found in time?

Taking a deep breathe, I told myself to get a grip and think calmly. Alarm! I can raise alarm to alert the security - or anyone for that matter - that we were stuck here.

Staying still, and trying to keep my panic at bay, I stretched my hand out blindly, searching for the elevator buttons to ring the emergency alarm. My hand hit something solid and I grappled at it, fumbling around a soft, warm rod.

A rod?

Realising what I was fondling a second too late, I snatched my hand away, wishing against all hopes that he would ignore my highly indecent, mistaken groping.

But of course, my luck had ran out the second I was ran-over by this bloody torpedo yesterday.

A sudden hitch of breathe sounded somewhere to my right, and after a few seconds of silence his mocking voice spoke, "feeling up your missile, Ms. Brooke?"

Sensing my face flame up with embarrassment, I cleared my throat awkwardly and murmured, "Sorry sir, just an accident."

But like a persistent jerk that he was, instead of having the decency to let it go, he murmured, "Oh, Ruth. You didn't need to resort to sexual harrassment, you know? All you had to do was ask."

Now I wished the elevator would pummel 35 floors down, just so I don't have to face that smirk I could hear in his voice when the lights came back on. Why did all the most embarassing things always happened to me? I wondered that, for a brief moment even forgetting where we were and why.

I fought the urge to crawl in the corner and bury myself within the darkness, but decided to be the better person and refused to dignify Caleb's remark with an answer.

Suddenly, the elevator lurched and my panic hit full throtle as the reality of our situation came back to me.

Oh my goodness.

The elevator lurched again, this time violently enough that I teetered on my heels and stumbled, right into the arms of a warm body.

Oh god, I was so gonna die here.