Taylor pressed the button for the 7th floor. The silver door closed with a grunt, as if to mirror the irritation he felt inside. Coming to see his mom for lunch was never fun. She rarely had time for him these days, and Taylor ended up sitting in the corner picking through greasy french fries or cold chicken nuggets. You'd think she'd be happy to see her only twelve year old son. But she was different now, ever since the funeral. He wiped away the tear without thinking. Dad was gone. Maybe they both were different.
The elevator began its ascent, the jiggling and swaying of the car making Trevor nervous. He shrunk his lanky frame into the corner, his hands warm against the cold walls. The fake wood paneling and lack of handicap rails screamed obsolescence, but taking the stairs was out of the question. It was too dark, full of echoes, and climbing seven floors wasn't his idea of a good time. Even an unusually tall kid like him could get taken in places like that and nobody would hear. They'd find his body on a landing between five and six, and they'd probably never think of accusing Mr. Barlow. What a weirdo. Every time he saw the guy, Trevor had to smother a grimace.
The lights went dark and the elevator jolted him off his feet with a thunderous groan. "Holy Shit", he said. Then he slapped a hand over his mouth. If mom heard that, he'd be eating soap for a week. The car was pitch black, so much so that Trevor couldn't see anything at all. What did they do on T.V.? His heart beat faster as he tried to remember. Wait, didn't they have a telephone or something built into these things? He didn't know for sure. What if he ran out of air? Trevor sucked in a deep breath, panic building within him.
"Okay, knock it off Trevor. People get stuck in these all the time. Don't be such a wuss." Then he thought about the cameras that these things probably had and grimaced. Great, make a fool of yourself for the camera. Bet they're laughing it up on the other end.
Crawling on his knees, Trevor felt along the wall until he reached the front panel. He felt upwards with invisible hands, counting two rows of six buttons. But nothing else. Damn. Maybe he should yell. Somebody will hear him. After ten minutes however, he wasn't so sure. The only thing he could hear was echoes. That and the groans of this damn freakin' elevator. He slid down the back wall, shrinking into the corner once more. They'd come for him. Somebody was always paid to monitor this shit, right?
A half hour later, Trevor began to wonder. He closed his eyes and began to pray to a God he wasn't sure he believed in.