Elevated Revenge

by Vanessa Rebello

“Wait! Wait! Hold the lift!” George sprinted through the entrance and across the lobby of his building. He could see old Mrs. Sequeira standing alone in the lift, looking directly at him through her catty eyes as the steel doors were inching shut.

“WAIT!” he called out again, juggling his laptop bag and briefcase, trying not to trip over his own feet as he ran with all his might. A few feet more. He caught a hint of a smile on the woman’s face right before the doors could cover the last two inches between them.

Ping - the doors shut on his face.

It was small, that smile. So small that it was barely visible. But he had seen it in all its mocking glory.

“Dammit!” he shouted, as he furiously jabbed the ‘up’ button, but the lift was gone. “Bitch.”

It was going to take forever until the elevator crawled all the way up to the nineteen and then all the way back down, and George had only wanted to go to the second floor. This was the third time the woman done the same thing to him, and he was beginning to get the feeling that it was personal.

‘Fine,’ he thought. ‘You wanna play? Let’s play!’

His body may not have been as fit as it used to be, but he had ten, maybe fifteen years on that woman. He dropped his bags to the floor, braced himself, and took off. Two steps at a time, sometimes three, he jumped from one flight of stairs to the next.

First floor. Second floor. Third floor. Fourth Floor – he hit the elevator button on every level, barely even stopping to look at it as he flew by. ‘She wants to be a bitch? I’ll show her how it’s done!’

Pant. Gasp. Pant. Gasp.

Fifth floor. Sixth floor. Seventh floor.

He hit them all, pausing only for a second to make sure his plan was working. The elevator was still on the third floor. Ha! Perfect!

Pant. Pant. Gasp. Sweat. Gasp. Pant. Pant. Sweat. Gasp. Gasp.

Eighth floor. Ninth floor. Tenth floor. Eleventh Floor.

‘That will show you what it feels like to have to wait for no reason.’ His adrenaline was losing effect now. He grabbed the left side of his stomach and bent over. This was a lot tougher than he thought. But he was half way there now, no point in stopping.

Twelfth floor. Thirteenth Floor. Fourteenth Floor. Fifteenth Floor -Almost .

He crouched on the landing between the two levels, sucking in the air as hard as he could, sweating, shaking. 

‘Oh God,’ he thought. ‘Can’t breathe. Must not stop. Must – teach – lesson.’

Fifteenth. Sixteenth. Sixteenth and a half. Seventeenth. Oh the pain. Seventeenth and a few steps. ‘Just two more!’ His head was spinning. All the saliva seemed to have abandoned his mouth in order to ooze through every pore on his skin.

Eighteenth. Oh God, his chest. ‘C’mon! YOU’RE ALMOST THERE!!’

Nineteenth! ‘YES! YES! YES! YES!’

He pressed that last button, and fell to his knees, balancing himself with one hand on the ground, the other clutching at his chest.

He looked at the indicator. Five more floors for the elevator to stop on. Five more floors for her to suffer. He had enough time to catch his breath before he could enjoy the look on her face.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

‘Come on now time to stand up. One leg at a time.’ He got to his feet, dripping with sweat, trembling at the knees.

Ping.

The doors inched open. There she was.

She stood there for a moment, widening her eyes and giving him a dirty look.

“Asshole,” she mumbled under her breath, as she stepped out of the elevator and walked past him.

A small, mocking smile decorated his face as she walked by. “Bitch,” he muttered,

He stepped into the lift. He could go home satisfied today.

The doors closed. He shut his eyes and rubbed his face as he reached out to hit the ‘two’. But the ‘two’ was already lit up, along with every other button on the panel.

‘Fuck.’

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