The Association

ELEVEN: Trapped

IT HAD BEEN hours since I had been trapped.

All I could hear was my own breathing. That, and the thud of my heart against my rib cage, each beat reminding me of the seconds slipping by.

Surely someone had figured it out by now, someone had realized I had disappeared from my classes. While a ditch might not be a surprise for other students, it would be if it came from me. Surely the teachers had said something. Surely someone had been sent to look for me. Surely...

Yet I was also sure that I had screamed and pounded at the door, to no avail. Either the heavy wooden door (courtesy of the school's Gothic architecture) was too thick , or Jacqueline had forced everyone to turn a deaf ear to me...meaning that even if people knew, they wouldn't help.

My stomach flipped over at the thought, and I struggled not to throw up.

No, I refused to think that way. Someone had to be coming. They had to be.

After I fell into the closet, I had landed and hit my forehead on something hard, with an edge. For a moment, I hadn't been able to move. Dazed from the pain and the stars that had erupted behind my eyelids, I felt my scalp.

My fingers had come away wet.

I shivered and hunched closer inwards to myself. There was a draft coming in from the air vents, and the cold egg yolk and the blood had long hardened under it. The chilly conditions made my aching forehead throb fiercely.

Yet worse than the discomfort and the pain was the sheer terror that I struggled to tamp down. Terror that no one knew I was here, terror that no one would find me and I would be stuck here until they found my husk of a corpse after the smell got too bad.

Terror at being stuck in the same situation that I had been in before.

The thought sent a fresh surge of panic over me, and I struggled to maintain my breathing. A panic attack was the last thing I needed. What I needed was to think of a way out.

The draft tickled up my spine, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. I roughly rubbed my skin, glaring up at the air vents in annoyance.

The air vents.

I stared at them for a moment, my eyes straining to estimate their length and width in the murky darkness. Maybe...just maybe...they were big enough. If I could just hoist myself up and remove the vent cover, I could try crawling through until I got to an empty classroom and kicked my way out.

I looked around the closet, my eyes desperately seeking for the silhouettes of objects that could hold my weight. Some paint cans, a mop, dish towels. A set of empty boxes.

No! There had to be something, anything.

I stretched my arms out, feeling for something tall and substantial enough to use as a stool, my fingers grasped -- and then, rubber.

There was a set of tires in the closet. For a moment, I wondered at their appearance. What were a group of tires doing at Triwood? But this wasn't the time to ask questions. Hurriedly, I grasped the edges of the nearest wheel and began to pull.

My arms burned after I dragged and stacked three tires under where I roughly estimated the air vents to be. Gasping, I heaved a fourth one onto the pile.

There, that should do it.

Stopping a moment for breath, I rubbed my sweaty palms onto my skirt. Once I got out of here, I was going to exercise more. Maybe actually participate in dance class.

Oh god. I was tired.

Gingerly, I placed a foot on top of the tire stack, holding the other edge down with my arms. The tires teetered, but I gritted my teeth and swung the other foot on.