She flung open the stairwell door so hard that it bounced off the wall. Ahead of her, a metal pair of double doors was just about to shut. She slipped through, careful to avoid their menacing pathway.
She had never been in this hallway before, but she was sure that it was a shortcut. It would save her time; it had to. Where else could it lead but to her destination?
The doors closed with a confirmatory thud.
Ahead of her was a long, narrow hallway. There were no doors. People were scattered randomly along the hallway. All of them were talking, and yet not to each other. Some were in jeans, and some were in wrinkled hospital gowns, with only pasty, spindly legs supporting them.
She spun back around suddenly. The doors were locked.
There was no way out.
She looked frantically along the wall for the button.
Her eyes met his.
He hadn't shaved in about three days and there was a rolled up piece of paper dangling from his lips-- a crude imitation of a cigarette.
"Right here," he leered. "The way out."
He pointed to a intercom button. She jabbed it with her finger.
"Yes?" a cold voice inquired.
"Uh, I think I took a wrong turn," she sputtered. "I really shouldn't be in here," she said while looking up at a sky of insulated tile, her eyes searching for the video camera.
"Honey, neither should I. None of us should!" cackled a voice to her left.
She strode out of the unit and didn't look back, her face flushed. From then on, she would stick to more familiar passages.