Thursday morning was no different to any other, the air crisp and bright and full of promise. It was 6.30am and she entered the building through a side door. It was a new part of the hospital and she hadn’t stayed there before. In older parts, yes. But not here.

 

The newness of the building provided a false sense of security. New carpets and shiny chairs in reception. She was famously early for everything and today was no exception. She hopped into the lift to go down a floor to the group rooms below. She dropped her bag and a notebook on her usual spot at one of the tables and decided to go up to use the toilets before the session. She knew if she didn’t go now, she’d have to go in the middle of the session, a personal pet peeve and a legacy of having type two diabetes. Her mother had it too, but she could hold it for hours. She’d worked as a nurse for fifty years and consequently her bladder control was truly mighty.

 

The lift doors slid closed again. A slight bump signified they had moved upwards but the doors did not slide back. All was silent and still. The light above flickered and hummed.

 

Trapped in a steel box. Nothing.

 

She stood for a minute, unsure of what to do. She pressed the alarm button but there was no sound, no ringing or even a disembodied voice. She was reminded briefly of the urban myth about traffic lights. That pressing the button at an intersection has no actual effect on when the lights change. Did the lift actually move? Are there secret floors shimmering between each level? Nothing is as terrifying as lifts that open at either end; particularly if you happen to be facing the side that is actually buried in concrete. Breathe.

 

She leaned her head against the crack between the doors. Soft tendrils of conversation and phones start to ring in the distance like smoke. She twisted to face the mirrored wall. Her reflection stared back rudely, face slightly flushed. She swore at herself.

 

She banged her fists and shouted. Nobody knows I am here. A growing sense of anger brewed inside that fizzed with each passing second, minute, hour. Who knew how much time was passing? She had left her phone in the group room.

 

Facing the doors, she reached up and dug all her fingers into the gap. After some tugging, the doors slid open, revealing the reception area. Success! She had assumed she wasn’t strong enough to do that.

 

The lift pinged. The receptionist looked up, surprised.

 

When you can’t push or pull, slide.