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12 - Mistake Number Four

"You've got to be kidding me."

The elevator was pitch-black. I couldn't see anything. And yet despite all that, I was painfully aware of Rian right next to me, his breath cool and even in the dark.

Oh, right. The dark.

I drew my feet up and propped my head on my arms. "As if this wasn't bad enough," I muttered. In an effort to distract myself, I turned to Rian. "But wait, weren't you saying something? Before we got plunged down the rabbit hole, I mean?"

I could feel rather than see him lock back up, returned to his perpetual iciness. "No, it wasn't important."

"Ah." I nodded in conciliation, tapping my fingers against my knee. There goes that method of diversion. I tried not to dwell on it too long. "Oh!" I exclaimed, a thought suddenly hitting me.

With a jolt, I started patting around my coat pockets. It didn't take me long to find what I was looking for.

"Yes!" I whooped, whipping my phone out triumphantly. Seriously, why hadn't I thought of this before? I pressed the power button, waiting for the blessed relief of synthetic illumination.

And . . . nothing.

"Huh?" I tapped the screen, shaking my head in denial when it didn't turn on. "No. No no no nononono—"

"What?" Rian asked, his voice steeped in cold annoyance.

"My phone," I breathed in disbelief, my hand falling limply to my lap. "My phone is dead. It's actually dead."

Groaning, I hung my head dejectedly. That was it. Our last hope at salvation, reduced to nothing more than a piece of tempered glass and metal.

The way things were going, we really would have to wait until morning to get out. The thought of Rian and I stuck in this small dim box, completely isolated, with no possible chance of interruption . . .

For once I was actually grateful for the dark. My face was probably bright red.

"Here."

I reluctantly glanced up at Rian upon hearing his voice, zooming in on his outstretched hand. My eyes widened. "Use this instead," he continued.

He offered me his phone, paying no attention when my jaw dropped open. "This is your building, so I assume you know the number to whoever can get us out of here."

I didn't respond. For some reason, the possibility of Rian having a phone hadn't even occurred to me. I mean . . . didn't you use phones to actually call people?

Rian looked at me then, taking notice of my mouth forming a shocked 'o'. For a few moments he considered me impassively. Then he reached out with his index finger, placing it on the bottom of my chin, and snapped my jaw closed.

"Careful." His command was quiet, but the element of danger in it made it seem like he was giving me a genuine warning. "Leave your mouth open and you don't know what may enter."

Leave your . . . oh my god.

My cheeks flamed, and I quickly grabbed the phone from his open palm. "Th-thanks," I said hurriedly. I made no effort to try and cool the raging fire in my face; it was all I could do to try and force the memory of his words out of my mind.

Calm down, Hanna, I thought determinatedly. Don't think about it. You're still mad at him, remember?

Nodding to myself, I tapped on the phone icon and started to dial the number. I pressed the phone to my ear and anxiously listened to it ring. Contrary to what Rian may have thought, I didn't know if the building even had an emergency number, let alone what it might've been. So instead, I went for the next best thing.

"Rokim?"

I noticed Rian tensing behind me, but I was too preoccupied with the wave of relief washing over me at the sound of Rokim's voice to really pay him much attention.

"Hanna?" He sounded confused. "Is that you?"

"Um, yeah. Actually—"

"Why are you calling so late?" Rokim interjected. I could practically see his eyes narrowing in suspicion. Damn, he was quick. "Did you get yourself into trouble again?"

I fidgeted guiltily, glancing back at Rian and biting my lip. "Something like that?"

"Oh my—what? What did you do now?" he asked exasperatedly.

"Uh . . . I may have gotten stuck in the elevator."

"What?"

I winced. "I know. It's not ideal."

"Not ideal? How the hell did you manage to get stuck in the first place? There was a sign!"

"About that," I fumbled awkwardly, trying to find the right words. How was I supposed to explain the unbelievably unfortunate string of events that had gotten me stuck in an elevator, and with Rian of all people? It sounded like something out of a bad romance novel.

"Just . . . suffice it to say that somehow, walking disaster that I am, I made it happen," I said finally. "I found a way to get stuck in this small dark box and I can't get out and it is not comfortable."

Rokim huffed. "God. Have you still not gotten over your irrational fear of the dark?"

My face burned. Rian scoffed, and I grimly realized he could hear the whole conversation. Great, I thought in embarrassment. Just great.

"The dark is a scary place, okay?" I protested insistently. "Bad things can happen in the dark. Like plunging to your death in a goddamn elevator."

"This isn't Die Hard, Han."

"Shut up," I muttered in response. Did he have to be so sassy all the time? "How dare you use my favourite movie against me. And besides, I'm being serious. I'm actually stuck. My phone is dead, too."

Rokim paused. "What?"

"I said my phone is dead, Rokim."

The silence became heavy, and it was a few moments before Rokim replied. "Then whose phone are you calling from?"

Damn. Walked right into that one.

I cringed slightly. This was the moment I'd been dreading.

"Do you promise not to freak out?" I asked imploringly, throwing a look over my shoulder at Rian when I heard him scoff again.

"Hanna." Rokim's tone was deadly calm. "Who exactly is in that elevator with you?"

I took a deep breath, steeling my nerves, before rushing the words out. "Rian. Rian's with me right now."

And . . . silence.

Rokim didn't say a word. I held my breath, waiting for his reaction. Whoever invented the phrase 'silence is golden' was obviously smoking something fierce, I thought ruefully. This is just scary.

Finally, Rokim cleared his throat. "I see." I blinked in surprise; he sounded totally normal. Had I just been imagining the wild death-threat vibes from a few moments ago?

"Could I speak to him, please?" Rokim continued.

My eyes widened. "You want to talk to him?" I turned to Rian, who only gazed back at me dispassionately. "He's not exactly the chatty type, you know?"

"I'm aware," Rokim replied drily. Rian's expression had darkened at my little jab, but he held out his hand expectantly. "Could you give him the phone anyway, Han?"

I sighed. "Sure." I relinquished the phone to Rian's grasp, watching as he pressed it to his ear. "Speaking," he said simply.

He didn't say anything else and merely listened to whatever Rokim was telling him. I eyed him with burning curiosity, but I wasn't about to scoot on over just to find out what they were talking about.

After about a minute more of this, Rian hung up without so much as a goodbye. He tucked his phone back into his coat pocket. "What did he say?" I asked, trying not to sound too interested.

"He says he's calling the landlord and they should be here in about forty minutes. They're bringing a repairman too. In the meantime we should stay calm and not do anything to destabilize the elevator."

I frowned. Was that all? "Okay, thanks," I murmured. It irked me a little that Rokim seemed to trust Rian to handle the situation better than me. But then again, I had gotten us into this mess. It was probably justified.

We sat in the darkness for a while, neither of us speaking. I tried my hardest to keep my mind off of the events of the day, and settled on just staring at the wall blankly. But even so, every once in a while the words leave your mouth open would suddenly race across my mind and it was all I could do to keep from going full Rudolph.

"How long has it been?" I asked abruptly, forcing my mind back to the present.

"About 20 minutes."

"Oh." I yawned, stretching as best I could despite the small space. It was getting late now, and I was totally drained. I figured if we were stuck here I might as well get some R&R. It seemed like a pretty good idea at the time.

Oh, how I was wrong.

I took my coat and balled it up into a makeshift pillow on the floor, lying down and plopping my head onto it. I pushed my hair out of my face—the long auburn locks seemed almost black in the darkness, I noted ironically. How very Rian-esque.

"Hanna."

I jumped, startled at the sound of my name. I glanced up at Rian from my position on the floor, feeling my face heat up for the millionth time at the look he was giving me, as if he knew I'd been thinking about him.

"Yeah?" I hoped the dark had hidden my little deer-in-headlights moment, but you never knew. There was a good chance he was nocturnal.

"What did you mean the other day?"

"Huh?" I frowned, shifting so I could see him more clearly but still lying on my side. "When?"

"When you hurt your hand." Rian's voice sounded strange, but I couldn't place what was different about it. My brow furrowed; I'd cut my palm nearly a week ago. Why was he bringing it up now?

"Yeah," I said slowly, still not understanding what he was getting at. "What about it?"

Rian paused before speaking again. "You said that pain was an old friend of yours."

I froze, suddenly remembering exactly what he was talking about. I'd thought he hadn't heard me. Had he been sitting on that information this entire time?

Mistake number four, everyone. Go me.

Rian was still waiting for me to respond. I cleared my throat and decided to try my hand at the art of BS. "Oh, did I? I can be so overdramatic sometimes. Sorry about that."

He considered me impassively for another moment, and I coughed awkwardly. I wasn't exactly the best liar.

Evidently, Rian knew that too.

"I don't think that's it," he said finally. I tensed, feeling dread wash over me. "There's something else, isn't there?"

I could hear him shifting closer, but I didn't move. My breath sped up slightly when he leaned over me, his every word almost a physical force pressing down on my body.

"I'm not sure why yet," he said lowly. "but you've been trying to hide it from me this entire time." He glowered down at me, and I was suddenly reminded of my near-episode earlier in the day. I'd been thinking about Rian, about the past, and then . . .

Rian's hand closed over my arm, and I sucked in a breath.

His grip was careful, cautious even, but that didn't change much. My mind immediately went into overdrive; for a moment, I thought I saw a flash of bright white light and felt a ghost of a hand roughly dragging me away.

The next thing I knew, my ribs were on fire.

I gasped in pain, and without realizing what I was doing I ripped my arm out of Rian's grasp. I shoved myself away from him, curling up into a ball in the corner as I tried to regain control. The searing agony wasn't ebbing away like last time; instead, it only seemed to intensify.

It's him, I thought, panicked and overcome by pain. My eyes screwed shut and I clutched my right side, the mantra playing on an endless loop in my head. It's him. It's him. I couldn't hear anything, but I was vaguely aware of Rian calling my name. It's him. It's him. It's

"Hanna!" I felt a pair of hands gripping my shoulders, and that shocked me out of my trance. I writhed and tried to squirm away, but the hands persistently stayed on. "No," I groaned, now bordering on delirium. "Please. No more."

I was pulled into a hard chest, and I stifled a sob as my vision began to darken. I was really going to pass out. I felt myself being cradled gently, and I blindly grasped for something to grab onto. My hand closed on the fabric of a shirt, and I clung onto it desperately.

"I know. It hurts," I heard a deep voice murmur. I clutched the shirt tighter. My mind was foggy, but I at least knew that the voice wasn't supposed to sound like that. It was supposed to be indifferent and harsh, but not apologetic. Not broken. "I'm sorry."

Over the past few days I'd become used to the cold, and three years had been plenty of time to acquaint myself with the infernos that overwhelmed me. But this, the exquisite warmth of a comforting embrace, I was a complete stranger to. Especially this embrace in particular.

The pain began to fade, and somewhere in my muddled mind I knew that that didn't fit, that there was something wrong.

Triggers didn't heal. They didn't help. They never made the pain go away—nothing ever did that.

And yet it was happening.

But it didn't matter. Despite my sudden rejuvenation, I was already too far gone to go back.

My grip on the shirt slackened. I felt myself going limp. My side stopped burning, but I knew I was losing consciousness anyway.

From there on a number of things happened in quick succession:

A hand clasped mine and held it tightly. I heard a loud crash, and the screech of metal against metal reverberated throughout the small space. My body suddenly felt lighter than air.

In my last moments of awareness, Rian's words from earlier floated through my memory. In the meantime we should stay calm and not do anything to destabilize the elevator. I recalled how I'd thrashed and contorted from the pain.

And then I felt us begin to fall.

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