aesthetic by roses^

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"Are you listening to me?" the girl repeated.

Her words snapped Atlas out of his daze. He blinked. Looking down to her hand, he noticed that she had a pair of scissors akin to the set in his back pocket and a watch identical to his.

"Atlas. Who are you?" He was unsure if he could trust the redhead. Keeping his conversation minimal felt like the best course of action.

The girl kept the sharp object in her grasp. Her gaze was unwavering as she replied.

"Hope." Atlas looked into the girl's eyes to find something he had seen in his own eyes just seconds before: fear, uncertainty, and confusion. Atlas chuckled to himself and shook his head. "Hope. Yeah right." The bitterness in his voice surprised him. He tried to walk around the girl but she was fast to react. He felt the cool edge of the scissors against his throat and could feel her forearm pushing his chest back. Atlas lifted his hands in submission.

Her face was inches away from his, her breath so hot that he could feel it. Her mouth was set into a thin hard line and her eyes danced with anger. "Are you the one who put me here?" she questioned.

Atlas looked taken-aback by the question. He was wondering where she had come up with the notion that he could be the reason she was here. "N-no!," he stuttered, "Of course not!"

Hope's grip tightened on the metal. "And why should I trust you?"

The pressure of her arm against his chest was heavy. She was fully intent on stabbing the blade into his throat if she did not like his answer.

Atlas had to think quickly. Looking around the room he examined the location of the pillows. That's when it hit him: he needed to find something in common to use as a bargaining chip.

"Because I can help you escape," he reasoned.

At this, Hope's eyes widened. Just as fast as the emotion spread to her face, it vanished, and the same hard features were back. She seemed to be thinking for a few moments before releasing him with a slight push. She took a few steps back and placed the scissors into her back pocket.

"How?" Hope asked with a slight plea in her voice. She seemed to want out as desperately as he did.

Atlas let out the breath he had been holding and looked to the room once again.

'I need to be careful around her .' he thought to himself before backing up towards the vanity.

Finding honesty and his knowledge of this particular room to be a key to gaining her trust, he touched the mirror that was behind him for indication. He never took his eyes off the unpredictable girl as he felt the smooth and cool surface hit his fingertips.

"This is the key to leaving this room. I am just as clueless as you about the next step."

"The mirror? But I already checked behind it and under it." Hope looked as if she was losing her patience. "I don't have time for games." She reached behind her to touch her back pocket. Realizing that he needed to act now, Atlas reached for his pair of scissors. Hope's eyes widened this time, but there was more fear than hopefulness in them.

So she's still scared too.

Atlas looked over his shoulder to the mirror and used his arm as leverage to break the glass. He used his other arm to cover his eyes as the small shards rained down beside him. Once the pieces had settled he looked to the mirror to find, once again, a button attached to the wooden backing. Atlas smiled to himself triumphantly.

"You did it," Hope said in a voice barely above a whisper. She moved to push the button. Atlas instinctively grabbed her wrist.

"Wait," he said quickly. She jumped back a foot or so away. Hope jerked her arm away from him, her other hand already pulling out her weapon.

Atlas put his hands up in defeat once more. He realized how rash his actions might have seemed, but it had to be done.

"We need to talk. Before you press that button." Atlas said, looking to her once more. He tried to be the mediator and put his scissors on the ground. Even in doing so, he kept his eyes trained on her.

Watching Atlas with caution, she stepped up and placed her blade on the vanity table. Taking a step back she looked to Atlas and nodded.

"Okay. I want answers too."

Atlas moved over to the center of the room and sat on the floor. Hope was quick to follow.

"I'll start," Atlas said as he crossed his legs across from her. "What is the first thing you remember?"

"The elevator. I woke up and walked into a white room. What about you?"

"The same. I can't remember anything except my name and the elevator."

The two talked for a couple of minutes and uncovered a few details: Both had no memory of existence before the elevators; both had taken the elevator to the same rooms and solved the same puzzles; both wanted answers and freedom.

"How did you end up here?" Hope asked. Judging by her quizzical eyebrows she was not likely to believe him.

"I broke the cycle," Atlas said in a matter of fact tone. "I didn't want to give them what they wanted. As soon as I hit that button," he gestured across the room at the vanity, "I made a run for the elevator and ended up here."

Hope looked at him with suspicion. "Who is 'they'?" she inquired.

Atlas shrugged. "I'm not sure. I just had a dream and I knew I needed to get out and that 'they' put me here."

Hope stood up and walked back over to the vanity. Recovering her blade reached for the button. Before pressing it she looked at him. "Don't just sit there. Let's go." Atlas stood up and made his way to grab his scissors. He pocketed the cool object.

"So I press this and run?"

Atlas nodded. "Be sure to brace yourself for the landing. It hurts." Hope bit her lip and looked at the elevator.

"On three. 1, 2, 3!" She mashed the button in and both of them sprinted towards the doors. Atlas was just in front of her as they ran across the floor. He jumped into the concrete box and landed face down with a thud. He looked towards the door to see Hope jump through.

With very little time to move, Atlas managed to get half of his body out of her path. Hope landed on the left half of his body just before the door shut behind her. The weight of her body hit him hard and he let out a grunt of pain. Hope rolled off of his arm and clutched her head with one hand. The pair was both breathing hard as they struggled to stand back up.

Once again, the elevator lurched to the side. A wide grin spread across Hope's face.

"We did it!" she said. "Do you think we will get out this time?"

Atlas didn't reply. He was focused on the door ahead with anticipation.

The door opened.

It was the same room as before.

"This is impossible," Hope muttered. She was the first to step out of the box and onto the carpet. "It's the same room."

Atlas scanned the room and was shocked. He looked to the vanity to find it on its side with the glass intact.

"Not exactly," Atlas said as he moved toward the furniture. He went to the glass and tapped the mirror.

"Someone has been here, but they didn't break the glass," he observed. "Where are they?"

Pulling out his weapon, he stood at the ready. Hope followed suit and assumed the same stance.

They moved to the center of the room. That's when the stench hit them. They gagged, bringing their arms to their faces.

"What is that smell?" Hope said through her sleeve.

"I'm not sure, but it's coming from this direction." He motioned with his weapon towards the bed. Approaching it with caution, he noticed the lump hiding under the sheets.

"Come out." Atlas poked the lump with his scissors tip.

The shape did not move. Atlas motioned for Hope to come closer and cover him. He reached for the top of the bedding and pulled it back quickly. As he threw the blanket he wielded his scissors towards the figure underneath.

It was dead.

Atlas and Hope both took a few steps backward from the corpse. It was a male wearing identical clothing to theirs. Atlas grimaced and looked away from the rotten corpse. It had to have been there for a while. Turning around, he saw Hope move over to the corner. She bent over and violently vomited all over the carpet, one hand bracing herself against the wall.

Once she had finished, Atlas grabbed a clean and soft blanket from the carpet and brought it over to her. With his nose still covered he handed it to her free hand.

Hope spit down to get the taste of bile out and used the blanket to wipe her mouth out. Atlas tried to give the girl space as she took care of her business.

"Thanks," Hope mumbled.

She threw the blanket over her mess and turned to the boy with a disgusted half-smile.

Trying to ignore the corpse, Atlas walked around the room to figure out why the poor boy had not been able to leave. He went over to where he knew the button was and examined the overturned vanity again. This time he saw the blood. The smallest amount of dried red was present on the glass's unbroken surface. Atlas looked back to the corpse.

Did he try to punch this?

With the newfound knowledge, Atlas moved toward the body. A weakened Hope looked at him.

"What are you doing? You can't help him now," she spat. She was clearly shaken by the experience.

"I know... But maybe he can help us." Atlas covered his nose once again. He was growing a little accustomed to the smell, but it was still putrid. Examining the hands of the victim, he deduced that the boy had tried to punch the glass. His knuckles were broken to the bone. Dried blood crusted over the tops of his right hand. Looking at the body, Atlas felt bad for the guy.

He glanced down at the limp wrist and saw that the watch of the corpse had stopped. It had been broken. The glass was busted inward and small fragments were missing.

He broke his watch, but couldn't break the mirror?

A wobbly Hope appeared beside Atlas.

"Find anything?" she asked.

"I think so. Help me flip him over." Hope grimaced at his words. Reluctantly, she took a spare sheet and covered the lifeless arm. Placing their hands on the sheet, they flipped him onto his back. Atlas hesitantly moved his hands across the back pockets of the boy. He found nothing.

"I was right," Atlas said. He quickly stepped away from the corpse to get a breath of clean stench-less air. Hope had a look of confusion and disgust plastered across her face.

"Right about what? You didn't find anything," she noted

Atlas held up his scissors. "But I did." Hope looked even more confused, so Atlas decided to explain.

"He tried to break the mirror. He couldn't do it. He didn't bring the scissors from the white room."

Hope went pale. "If I hadn't brought them I would have died." The realization seemed to hit her like a ton of bricks. She looked back at the poor boy and shivered.

Atlas nodded in agreement. He continued, "for some reason, he could break his watch, but not the mirror."

Hope looked to the corpse's watch and then to her own. As she watched it count down she stated the obvious "That doesn't make sense. This," she lifted her wrist, "has a smaller surface area. It should be harder to break."

Atlas' face condensed into a perplexed look. He hadn't thought about the size ratio. He moved to the mirror and tapped on the glass. Looking at his hand, he took a deep breath. He clenched his fist and hit the glass. Hard.

His hand rebounded, sending a wave of pain through his arm. Shaking his hand, he examined his now red knuckles.

"This is a different kind of glass."

He observed the still perfect surface. Retrieving his weapon, he tapped the glass with barely any force. This time, the glass shattered. Atlas looked to Hope and she looked at him. Her green eyes had a deep sadness in them. A look of hopelessness.

"Whoever put us here is a monster," she said in a low voice.

"Ya think?" Atlas sheathed the scissors and turned to face her.

Hope looked down at the ground and fiddled with her watch. With venom in her voice, she said, "They put us here. They let him die. We can't let them get away with that."

She looked up and lifted her hand to press the button. Atlas gently grabbed her wrist again. This time, she didn't jump back or threaten him. He placed his hand on top of her smaller one.

They pressed the button together.