Chapter 5: Loss…

Selene.

Present day, the next day…

It's Friday 22nd December and mine and Isabel's birthdays. My two favorite days.

I enter the office building briskly, my heels clicking the waxed floors.

“Hi, Selene. Sleep well?” Camille, the receptionist greets, cheerfully. I smile at her. She’s the only one on the desk this morning.

“Hi Camille. Where’s, Jorge?” Jorge is one of the other receptionists. It’s a big ass office building, so this number of receptionists are necessary for efficiency.

“Gone for coffee. You know him.” Camille says as I walk past. I smile. “Oh and Selene, happy birthday to you and my little princess.”

I stop, turn to Camille, pasting a wide smile. My heart flutters, appreciatively. “Thanks Camille. That’s thoughtful you remembered.” I say, quietly.

She nods shyly, lowering her eyes to answer a phone call on her desk.

“MBE Inc.; Architectural and Building Department, Camille Ivars, speaking.” I hear Camille as I proceed to the elevator.

There is a man on the panel in MBE maintenance clothes, fixing something. I don’t know what; he doesn’t look familiar. We share a look, before he returns to his work.

The building is a high tower comprising all the departments of Macklesfields Businesses. Each city of the world, conquered by the business, boasts one tower, similar to this.

I'm currently climbing to the 29th floor, where I work as a Cad Designer on interior works for buildings. I actually majored in Architecture like my elder sister and our mum.

But where Kirsten loves skeletal building works, I on the other hand, loves interior design.

As the elevator climbs, the light on the panel inside, glowing, my heart begins to beat fast. I hear something in my ears, in my heart. A voice all too familiar.

Press the emergency stop!

Albert’s voice. I gasp. I just felt it. I just heard it in my heart. If that’s even possible.

I look at the panel. It's normal. I shake my head.

Perhaps seeing him last night at my place has evoked these familiar feelings of hearing his voice in my head.

I shake him off.

When he left the house yesterday, I wanted to call him back. Ask him to stay with us. But I didn’t.

God I had too much dignity for that. Allow him back in, after he ended things himself, even before they started, last year.

I wasn’t one to plead for affections.

I simply carried on with Isabel, last night, though his presence had unnerved me a lot. Pretended that he hadn’t shown up at my doorstep.

Now am hearing his voice. Like I used to, when I first returned from Amsterdam, after he ended us.

The elevator suddenly halts, jolting me back.

I freeze.

An uneven sound, grinds somewhere in the background, as it hangs there. The panels show it’s on the 20th floor. I swallow.

Everything is still. The buttons aren’t working as I press them, randomly.

I reach the elevator phone, but it’s dead.

I swallow hard.

The lights go extra bright for a few seconds, before they go out. Nothing but darkness.

I panic. Sweat breaking out.

I take off my coat, the cold suddenly vanishing.

Replaced by a heat that comes from alarm.

And then a static sound rattles the speakers, interrupting the calm, elevator music.

“Hello everyone. Ladies and gentlemen. This isn’t a drill. No reason to panic. We’re only here to retrieve something important to us.” The voice speaks.

I frown.

Who would be playing such a joke at 9am in the morning. It’s work hours for Christ’s sake. I am incensed right now, knowing it's one of the staff, trying to lighten the mood.

“We’re here to search for his own. The one that bears his mark. We’ve had others trailing him, fishing his scent for years now. But each time we closing in on him, he cloaks. This time, we smelled his scent on his marked one. And we have come to collect. We know he’d come, we’d wait.” The voice ominously continues.

I shrink, frightened. Am confused.

What are they talking about?

This has gone too far. Am down to my dress and shoes. My bag and stuff in a corner.

I am not very good with tight spaces.

Dark and tight spaces.

My phone!

I pick my phone and check for signal.

It’s jammed.

What's going on?

Someone is going to get fired for this. We’re talking of people put on hold like this on an elevator.

It’s already 9:20am.

Am suddenly scared, feeling like am in a tight box.

The air isn’t so hot. Actually the walls are cold. I place my palms on the walls, trying to draw calm from the cold walls.

The air con just went out, seconds ago.

I panic. I’m scared.

I begin to pant, my mind going over a lot of things.

I think of Isabel. My baby is currently in her playschool, where I dropped her on my way here.

I think of how she depends on me for everything. Her food, her sleep, her care.

I wore her a cute Minnie dress today and her hoodie. She looked so pretty.

I begin to cry as I grow worried. Blood rushing in my ears, my breathing shallow.

Am not very good with tight spaces.

Am panting, as I recall 18 years ago. I was six and my sister and I played hide and seek. I remember hiding in a closet. It was dark. I was scared of the monsters. The darkness. I heard voices. Whispers.

I tried coming out someone shut me in. Someone forgot I was in there.

I panicked. Like am panicking now.

I had feared for my life. I had called for Kirsten, for mum, for dad. But no one heard.

Am calling now. Nothing.

A grim sense suddenly clouds me, weakens me. Loss. I’d never see Isabel again. Nor my family. Nor Albert.

I feel hurt again. I sink to the ground. I cry, hysterically.