I'm trapped in here.

Sweat pours down her back, adding 'icky' to everything else that's tossing, turning, screaming and sobbing inside her now. She runs from window to blackened window, with paper peeling off the edges, with cracks in the ancient glass, yet unbreakable. Making her feel nothing but weakness personified.

I'm lost in here.

The exits are clearly marked, with those annoyingly green always-on lights. The pinging of the elevators echoes in the empty hallways.

She gazes out of the windows and sees nothing of the high-rise buildings or the decidedly odd weather. No, all she sees is faces in the dark. Faces, grotesquely similar, yet jarringly different.

I have to get out of here!

Panic is hazing her mind; she is scared of these places, these thoughts. Tears spring, uncalled for. Hot, burning pricks in her eyes.

She wipes them away surreptitiously, as if she thinks that someone is watching for signs of weakness. Then she turns around, walks quickly out of the room. Heads for the elevator and presses the button, all the while stealing glances of the room, into which a pale late-afternoon light seeps through the windows.

The elevator pings again and the doors open noiselessly, and she enters the mercifully empty cab.

She escapes the din of the quiet room...but she can't escape the noise in her head.