Melissa woke up to pitch black. She tried to sit up, but
bashed her head on something. She thought maybe she’d collapsed on the bottom
bunk of her son’s bed, then remembered he’d left home last year and they hadn’t
had bunk beds since he was ten.
She waited for her eyes to adjust, but they didn’t; there
was no light. She reached her hands up and struck something solid just a few
inches above her. She reached out to the sides and the same thing happened.
She felt panic rise in her chest, trying to recall the last
thing she remembered. It was hard; her mind felt fuzzy, unclear, there was a
lot of resistance, like a hangover.
There’d been a delivery of furniture at the garden centre.
She’d been moving one of the combi garden bench-boxes out onto the display. Russell
had been there. She remembered because he always gave her the creeps. His smile
was disturbing and he was always watching, waiting for her to notice him. She
shuddered even now in the box.
Melissa pushed up hard, but there was no movement. Her panic
increased. She scratched at the sides, but it was hard plastic, confirming her
suspicions that she was inside one of the combi boxes.
She started shouting and bashing harder, but she knew no one
would hear her. It had been after closing on Sunday when she’d been setting up the
display; the garden centre wasn’t open on Monday’s. She had no idea how long
she’d been in here already, but she started to feel breathless. Whether it was
panic or lack of air in the box she wasn’t sure.
She felt her mind swoon. She was losing consciousness. An
image popped into her head of her limp arm hanging out of the box while her raw
fingers dripped blood onto the concrete floor. “If only,” she mumbled. It could
be months before they found her.
323 Words
Oh that's great and it works really well :)
ReplyDeleteThanks. It felt like a push.
DeleteOh that's gooood!!! Fab take on the picture. I can't think of anything worse. You captured her desperate situation perfectly. xx
ReplyDelete