Re: Elevator: Inside
There was no God listening to his prayers that night, no one to come down and sweep him away from a situation that was becoming progressively more dire as the seconds ticked away. When she came closer, close enough that a lean forward could have them touching, he drew in his breath, shoulders tense and pressed into the corner of the elevator, as though that breath would give him the freedom he needed from her close proximity.
And then there was that sound, nothing he recognized as a laugh even as the prayers started up again, hands clasped, head tilted up towards the ceiling, hoping He would hear him, answer him in his time of need. He could feel her moving, the animal in front of him, her nose pressed against his belly, the intake of breath, and the prayers came faster. Protection, salvation, rescue, the strength to push through this. He asked for everything he could think of in hopes that He would answer at least one of them, give him some hope for stepping out of this car, some hope of surviving.
And then things changed, and it was no longer a wolf who taunted him, but the long, lean lines of the feral woman. Stammered words as she gripped his jaw, his breath catching as she pressed so close. Fervent whispers, a tear making its way down his cheek, those delicate wings giving a shudder of fear as they attempted to fold flatter against his back, every atom of his existence, heaven sent, shrinking away from her. "You are mistaken," he mumbled out, the words shaking and lacking any sort of conviction. Where was He? Where was He when he needed Him so badly? What had he done to deserve this treatment? His hands clutched together tighter, knuckles bled white with tension. "You are mistaken," he said again, as though repeating the words would give them the strength he didn't have. He was weak, abandoned and cast off by his Father, but that hadn't been the way he always was, no. But it was hard to remember that far back.