this was one of those moments where i just wished so badly that someone could hear me.
so, i got stuck in an elevator the other day because of a sudden power outage. honestly, not really a shocker during a texas summer under an extreme heat warning. the surprises? it happened on the one day i got too lazy to take the stairs like i usually do; the one day i figured, “i’ll just grab a quick package,” and left my phone behind to take a break from work; and, of course, it was also the day i left my stove on, thinking i’d be gone just a minute.
and there i was.
stuck in the elevator, in total darkness, with no phone and temps over 100°. i pushed every button i could, including the supposedly “emergency” one. nothing. the elevator was stopped between the 1st and 2nd floors, and i had no idea where i was.
luckily, the lights came back on, so at least i could see. i started yelling, as loud as i could:
“anybody out there?”
“can anyone hear me?”
for over 20 minutes, nothing. i started getting really nervous, and the first thing popped into my head wasn’t even about me, it was the stove. i was terrified my apartment might explode.
is it crazy that my first fear wasn’t for my own life, but for the stove i left on?
i screamed harder, pounded on the doors, tried to force them open.
still, nobody.
then, finally, a voice — a girl’s voice, soft and full of concern:
“i hear you.”
three words that felt like a lifeline.
before i even asked for help, the first thing out of my mouth was, “could you please go into my apartment and turn off the stove? i’m stuck in the elevator and didn’t bring my phone.”
she didn’t hesitate. “i’m back. everything’s ok,” she said when she returned.
i could breathe again.
“i called maintenance, and they said a technician is on the way,” she added.
“thank you! do you know what happened? do you know when they’ll fix it? do they know i’m stuck? can they hurry?”
i bombarded her with questions. the fear of being trapped, of maybe dying in there, started creeping in. it was getting hotter, and breathing was getting harder.
i didn’t really wait for her to answer, but just kept talking because i was finally being heard, and i needed to feel like i wasn’t alone.
finally, i was heard.
i curled up in a corner trying to save some energy, then my thoughts started to wander.
i’m alone. it’s just me in this tiny box.
what’s the worst that could happen?
what am i really afraid of?
what’s on the other side of fear?
tears quietly fell.
“are you still there?”
“yes! i’m still here.”
we waited together for almost 30 more minutes, and still, no one came. i hit the “emergency” button a million times, but it was useless.
“i’m going to call and check what’s going on,” she said.
i couldn’t hear who she was talking to, but next thing i knew, she ended up calling 911. the firefighters arrived a few minutes later and got me out.
when i climbed out of the elevator, i scanned the crowd. and there she was — the tiny girl holding her phone, standing far from the door, looking worried. unlike everyone else who seemed more curious than concerned, her eyes were so warm like saying "i'm here".
i knew immediately it was her.
i ran to her and hugged her tightly.
“thank you. you saved my life.”
i couldn't remember what she said after.
it took so long to be heard.
thank you for hearing me.
thank you for staying with me.
that night, i thought about sharing what happened with someone, but ended up realizing i didn’t really have anyone to tell.
kind of tragic, isn’t it?
but then i wondered — why do i feel the need to tell anyone?
what exactly am i trying to say?
maybe i just wanted to be heard.
photo credit: felix koutchinski
Comments