Four strangers are trapped in an elevator and forced to reveal details about their most malicious deeds within the hour to prevent a fall to their death. But as secrets are exposed, tension escalates, leading to a reality no one is prepared for.
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Blackness enveloped me until I opened my eyes and gasped. I realized the lights hadn't gone out at all, but I couldn't say the same for my consciousness. Lying on the floor next to the stiff, bloodied bodies of the cardigan wearing woman and the mousy man, I pushed myself up to a sitting position while simultaneously pulling the hem of my dress down over my knees for privacy.
Feeling vulnerable to a madman, I scanned the cramped space to get my bearings.
Mr. Macho had removed his shirt and the shirt that covered Ms. Cardigan's face and used them to clean most of the blood from his arms and neck, but the remnants remained in the creases of his navel, elbows, and under his fingernails.
He crouched near the panel as if he were working on it, but obviously had gotten nowhere with his tinkering, leaving bloodied fingerprints smeared on the stainless steel. He quickly retracted the blade back into its handle and tucked it in his rear pocket for safekeeping.
"Why did you do it?" were the first words out of my mouth. Was it impulse or instability? I needed to know where the anger came from so I could better determine if he harbored more of it for me.
"That man lunged at me with the knife." Mr. Macho shook his head. "I did it in self-defense. Didn't you see it? I mean, you were here as it all went down."
I backed away from the growing puddle of red until my back hit the cold metal of the wall. "Self-defense? You want me to corroborate that?"
"You know all about self-defense, don't you?" He tilted his head, and it became apparent he held no remorse. His hands didn't even shake or tremble at the gruesome sight, unlike mine.
There was no sense in denying his true colors were on full display. "What kind of man would kill someone that way in cold blood?" My mind replayed the rhythmic squirts that pulsed from Mouse's neck.
"A man who's not afraid to share his sins." He stood, the sounds of his knees popping reverberated in the space as he lengthened. "You all wanted me to tell my sins, but I believe action speaks louder than words."
I glanced at the bulbous camera lens above the doors, and a shudder quaked down my spine, realizing how confident he was with his alibi.
He must've caught my line of sight as he shrugged. "Thank god you were here to witness the truth. In case my back obscured the camera's view."
"When did you start believing in a god to thank?" My eyebrows threatened to dip in anger, but I kept my expression neutral. I needed to keep up with the act and not rouse him unexpectedly. I needed to stay in control.
"You don't believe that woo-woo crap they were spouting," he went on. "So, we can stop the game about this elevator falling if we don't share our sins. Because I have news for you." He dug into his back pocket to retrieve his cell phone. "It's three past the hour and we haven't fallen yet."
Relief should have washed over me, but dread rose, causing my mind to race instead. "And no one's come to our rescue yet?" My breathing grew, making my chest rapidly rise and fall, but his demeanor showed not one sign of distress. "That doesn't sound strange to you?"
