Sarah stood in front of the elevator, the cold metal doors gleaming under the fluorescent lights. Her fingers trembled slightly, a nervous anticipation building in her chest. She hadn't planned on playing the Elevator Game, not really. But when Kyle had mentioned it, laughing off the idea as just some silly ritual, something about the way he looked at her, with that hint of challenge in his eyes, made her feel like she had to go through with it.
It wasn't the first time she'd heard of the game. Everyone in school knew about it, whispered about it, dared each other to try it. The stories always came back the same: the ones who succeeded disappeared, never seen again. The ones who failed... well, they were never seen again, either, but their families said they sometimes glimpsed them in the distance, just out of reach. Always out of reach.
Sarah could already feel the weight of the decision pressing down on her. If she went through with this, she might never see her family, her friends, or Kyle again. She could still back out. It wasn't too late. But then Kyle had given her that smirk, as if he knew something she didn't, as if he was daring her to prove him wrong. She couldn't back out now.
She glanced at the old, dusty sign on the elevator's panel, reading the instructions one last time. Twelve floors. Twelve steps. Twelve chances to make it to the other side. She had to go alone, had to push the right buttons at the right time. And if she failed? If she failed, she'd be lost, forever. Her heart pounded in her chest. Maybe, if she was careful, maybe she could avoid that fate.
Sarah breathed deeply, pulled the door open, and stepped inside. The elevator was cramped, dimly lit, the air thick with the smell of stale metal. She pressed the button for the first floor, and the doors slid shut with a hollow, grinding sound. She waited.
The countdown started in her mind. She could already feel the pull, like something was watching her, waiting for her to make the wrong move.
Step one: Press the button for the first floor.
Done. That was easy. But as the elevator began its slow descent, Sarah's stomach twisted with unease. It was just a game, she reminded herself. Nothing more. It's all just superstition.
Step two: Press the button for the fourth floor.
The elevator jerked slightly as it reached the fourth floor. The cold air outside seemed to reach into the cramped box with a sharp chill. She pressed the button, feeling the pressure of the rules on her chest, like a stone pressing harder with each passing moment. But nothing happened. The world didn't change.
Step three: Press the button for the second floor.
The elevator moved upward with a soft whine. Her heartbeat quickened. It felt too real. Too much.
Step four: Press the button for the sixth floor.
Another jerk of the elevator as it passed the sixth floor. The lights flickered. She didn't move. The sound of the elevator cables groaned above her. The low hum of machinery rattled in her skull. She tried to shake the creeping sensation down her spine. This was fine. She was fine.
Step five: Press the button for the second floor.
She pressed it. It didn't feel real anymore. The walls seemed to close in, the lights dimming again. The elevator moved again, but this time, the sensation of falling felt more distinct, like something unseen was pulling the box downward, dragging it into the earth.
Step six: Press the button for the third floor.
The air seemed to grow heavier with every floor, like the space between her and the rest of the world was stretching thin. The elevator seemed to groan louder now. The weight of the metal, of the structure, felt so fragile. She pressed the button. The world outside seemed distant, like it was already out of reach. Kyle's mocking face from earlier flashed in her mind. He'd called it a joke. Just a game. But it wasn't a joke anymore.
Step seven: Press the button for the eighth floor.
The elevator jerked again, too hard this time, and she nearly stumbled as it passed the seventh floor. The whole box rattled. Sarah's breath quickened as she pressed the button for the eighth. Something wasn't right.
Step eight: Press the button for the fourth floor.
She pressed it, but the elevator did not respond. It felt like the world had stopped, and she had too. The air grew thick again, suffocating. The silence in the elevator pressed against her ears like a dead weight. She was losing herself.
Step nine: Press the button for the fifth floor.
The elevator moved, but slower now, as if struggling to climb. The lights flickered, casting long, twisted shadows that didn't belong. She clutched the rail inside the elevator. Her skin felt clammy. The sense of vertigo kept pulling at her, making her feel like she might fall.
Step ten: Press the button for the tenth floor.
She pressed it, but the elevator didn't stop. It didn't even slow down. It shot up too fast, rattling louder. The cables above screamed in protest, and the elevator's lights snapped out, leaving her in complete darkness for a moment. Her heart stopped, then hammered in her chest. She fumbled for the emergency stop button but couldn't find it.
Step eleven: Press the button for the fifth floor.
She managed to press it. The elevator paused, hanging in the air. Too long. The walls seemed to bend inwards. She could feel it. The space around her had shifted. The world outside didn't feel like it was the world anymore.
Step twelve: Press the button for the first floor.
Her hand moved to the button, but before she could press it, the elevator lurched violently, and then everything stopped.
A soft, almost inaudible sound filled the air, but it wasn't a sound she could recognize. It wasn't a voice. Not even a whisper. It was just... something. She couldn't describe it. The feeling of the elevator was gone. The sensation of falling was gone.
The doors opened.
But they didn't open to the first floor.
She stepped out, her heart racing, her legs unsteady. The hallway stretched out before her, dark and silent. She blinked, feeling a shift in the air. The elevator's dim lights flickered once more before going out completely, leaving her in the near-complete darkness. She could feel something watching her, waiting for her.
It wasn't a place she recognized. There were no sounds. No people. Just long corridors leading into shadow.
She had to leave. She couldn't stay.
She turned back to the elevator, but the doors had already shut. They wouldn't open again.
That's when she heard it.
A voice. Or maybe a breath. A soft, drawn-out sigh, coming from somewhere behind her. Not a whisper. Not a sound. Just... something that made her skin crawl.
The walls were too far now. The elevator was gone. The world was gone.
She walked down the hall, each step feeling heavier, the silence pressing down on her.
And then she saw them. The figures at the far end of the hallway. Faces. But they weren't real faces. Not anymore. They were just silhouettes, like shadows of people she used to know. Sarah's heart skipped. She recognized them. They were her parents, her brother, Kyle. They were staring at her, standing in the distance.
They were moving toward her.
She called out, but no sound left her lips. She tried again, but it was as if the air was thick and heavy. It clung to her chest.
The figures didn't stop. They didn't look surprised to see her. They didn't look happy, either. They just kept walking, slowly, as if they couldn't get any closer, no matter how hard they tried.
Her breath caught in her throat as they kept moving forward, their eyes never leaving her. And then, as they reached a certain point, the air around them seemed to shift, like a wall had been built between them and her. No matter how hard she tried, no matter how fast she ran, she could never reach them. They were always there, just out of her grasp. Always.
Time passed. Days, maybe weeks. Maybe years. She couldn't tell anymore. It didn't matter.
The shadows of her family never got any closer. They just stood there, waiting, watching.
And she... she was stuck.
Trapped in a world where she could never touch them again.
And they couldn't reach her.