The Party

My friend Terry invited me to his daughter’s 21st birthday party. A bar on a busy city street, hired out just for us. It started late afternoon and was set to finish by ten.

I thought, why not? A couple of drinks, some familiar faces I hadn’t seen for a while, then home before midnight.

My kind of vibe.

It had that good family energy. Music, laughter, plates of food moving around, the young ones playing, enjoying themselves.

By around nine, the birthday girl and her friends were ready to move on, hit the city, make a night of it.

A few of us decided to head back to Terry’s flat instead. He lived nearby, so we walked.

A quiet voice told me, “Go home, the night’s over”. I thought I’d chill for an hour at his, then call a taxi.

That was the first mistake.

The Box

We got to his building. Eleven of us in total. Three women took the stairs. Six men, two children headed for the lift. I considered taking the stairs.

For some reason I looked up before we entered the lift. The silver panel claimed the lift could hold ten adults, so I thought nothing of it.

That was my second mistake.

The doors shut, it juddered upwards, then stopped. Dead. The screen flashing: Lift out of service.

At first, everyone laughed it off. Terry pressed the alarm on the intercom. A man answered.

He told us no engineer was on site. He’d call one out but couldn’t give a specific time.

Our smiling faces changed straight away to serious unease. We explained we had two children with us, hoping he’d move faster.

Ten minutes passed. It felt like thirty. The humidity’s rising. No movement. Terry pressed the alarm again. Same answer. Still no engineer.

That’s when I saw Terry tighten up. His breathing changed, frequent and shallow. Fear was creeping in, with rage right behind it. He was close to breaking point.

Fifteen minutes in, Terry snapped.

Panic

I’d known the man for six years. I’ve never seen him like this. His shirt off. Dripping in sweat. Smashing the alarm button, shouting at the speaker.

The noise bounced around the box. It destroyed the last bit of calm we had left.

Six feet by four. Nobody could sit down. All our bodies pressed together. Everyone sweating.

Then the arguments began. Terry’s brother shouting at him to calm down. He barked back. His friends jumped in. All trying to stop the other from having a meltdown, or worse.

Nowhere to hide. Torture. I stepped in, trying to stop them. It didn’t work. It made it worse.

I Nearly Lost It Myself

My brains in overdrive, the same thought repeating: I need to get out of here.

That feeling of being caged.

I had to stop myself from breaking. I removed my jacket, leant against the wall, closed my eyes for a second. Something inside wanted to let go, break something, shout, swear and fight my way out of this. But there was no way out, no hack, no brute force, just the reality.