My Phobia

We walked in together. You'll be fine I'll be with you and hold your hand he said! I'd always known there was a cruel streak in him, but on this I trusted him. How wrong I was. Just as the doors were begining to close he jumped out. I screamed, no please, please don't do this, but here I was all alone in my worst nightmare. Stuck in an elevator.

We had come to New York to try and patch up our relationship. Booked a penthouse in a hotel on the 50th floor. I was a bit wary when he booked it as I am claustrophobic, hated lifts but he reasured me that he would be with me.

How was I going to survive this ordeal. I closed my eyes and thought, these lifts go up quickly until I felt a shudder, all the lights went out and the lift stopped. I screamed for help but nothing, fumbled in my bag for my mobile, no signal. I screamed again and again till I had no voice, then slid down the wall, I'm going to have a heart attack, then passed out. How long I was in there I don't know.

There was another great shudder and the light was on. The doors opened at the penthouse and there he was grinning like a Cheshire cat. I was still on the floor and pleaded hoarsly get me out. He laughed as he pulled me free.I stumbled into the apartment shaking and in total shock.

He looked around mesmerized. This is is not the apartment I asked for. It is beautiful I said. A stunning terrace with tremendous views over Manhattan. I opened the French doors and stepped out. He screamed, close those doors. I booked a window apartment. I needed fresh air, but did as he bid as usual and came inside.

He visibly relaxed and opened a bottle of champagne then another and another, laughing uncontrollably he shouted, 'I engineered the elevator stopping and the power cut just to teach you a lesson.'

I studied him closely and realized, he is scared of heights. We drank our champagne. Me less than him. I could see he was getting drunk. I opened the terrace door and coaxed him out. The champagne had gone to his head. He gingerly stepped on to the terrace. Quickly I closed and locked the door, and put the key into my pocket.

No no he screamed. 'Now you know how I feel you cowardly bastard.' He wrestled with me to try and get the keys, hadn't realized how near he was to the edge. He was very drunk. It was easy to gently tip him over, hear him scream as he soared down to splatter on Broadway.

I left the apartment my fear of the elevator gone. It took all of two minutes to reach the foyer. I stepped out to the lullaby of Broadway. Police sirenes screaming, a gruesome crowd milling round a flattened dead body blood everywhere. I was now free in New York. Claustrophobia gone. Or was it? Next hotel will be ground floor. Fuck the lift and the view.

 

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