He sat at his desk in anger. He never got a good spot in the car park, but to be on the tenth floor, at the very top, really pissed him off. He felt invisible at work, but on the bright side, this meant no one bothered him much. He would often start his day in the breakroom, pouring the contents of his hip flask into a coffee mug; he had been caught before so was forced to use strong coffee to hide the smell of alcohol.
He would potter about, refreshing his emails, standing by the printer, eating lunch alone at his desk; this was how his day went until the clock hit five and he was free to leave. Today was no different. The clock struck five and he walked out the exit, before crossing the road to the car park. He considered taking the stairs instead of the lift, especially as his doctor suggested he should exercise more. On the other hand, he had walked down the stairs in the morning and after a long day at work, the last thing he wanted to do was walk all the way to the top of the car park.
As he approached the decades old lift, the grimy yellow doors juddered open slowly and he stepped inside. He looked around the lift and wondered how it got into such a state of disrepair. He sniffed, and recognised an all too familiar scent of urine. The puddle on the ground seemed to remain in the corner, so he stood well away from it. They’ve been having problems with vagrants in the car park trying to sleep in it overnight, clearly he had discovered their toilet. The lift ascended through the many layers of the car park, rumbling and shaking as it rose. He felt panicked, and cursed himself for not taking the stairs. The lift came to a startling halt at the top floor and froze. The doors unwillingly opened and he leapt out.
It was dark, and raining, but the building was covered and dimly lit. His car was the furthest away from the lift, parked at the back in a tight corner spot by one of the support beams, forcing him to awkwardly squeeze out of his car in the morning. He walked towards the car taking the keys out of his pocket, and started pressing the unlock button. The car was unresponsive and he had to open the door manually with his key. It slid into the lock, but there was some resistance. He could not turn the key, and could not get it back out of the door either. With a sigh, he reached into his pocket to get his phone but to his surprise, it wasn’t there. He looked up at the ceiling and groaned. He had hardly been drinking today, yet still he was sure he must have forgotten it in the office. He walked back towards the lift, quickly forgetting his experience of taking it up, and pushed the button. It did not illuminate, and there was no mechanical response from the lift. He pushed the button again, repeatedly, until he accepted that the lift was no longer working. Now there was no choice to be made, and he would have to take the stairs down. Nine flights of stairs, each at the opposite end of the car park. He shuffled towards them, and started his descent.
He stepped out onto floor nine, and paced towards the opposite end following a giant number ‘8’ accompanied by a large arrow. He thought about his current situation, not just how he forgot his keys, but how he never seemed to get a good parking space. Maybe he could arrive earlier next time? He considered his job, his utterly awful job. Had he done something so bad that it warranted such failure in his life? It paid well enough, but allowed no extravagance. He thought about his passions and the things that used to excite him. How he loved writing stories and poetry. He had not written anything more than a quarterly report for decades now. What happened to the dreams and desires he had? Where was the future that was promised to him? There was no answer to be found, for he had reached the stairs to the eighth floor.
He looked to the side, and saw a large number ‘7’ with its pointing arrow. The same route as above but in the opposite direction would take him to the seventh floor. As he walked he noticed himself fidgeting, picking at the skin on his fingers by the nail. He was biting them too. This anxious behaviour concerned him. He wondered if he had actually left his phone in the office, or had he dropped it on the way out? He frantically scanned the floor and reminded himself to keep an open eye for it as he walked. The car park was almost empty, with the remaining cars suggesting a few colleagues still at work; hopefully he would not have to engage in awkward conversation with any of them. He would hate to have to explain himself to someone. Next to a vending machine he spotted the stairs going down.
On the seventh floor, his thoughts continued with the intensity not letting up. His mind raced with questions and doubts. He recognised these feelings; an online therapist had warned him of the dangers of spiralling. He saw his life for what it really was. What would his grave say? “Here lies a man who was content with mediocrity”. His friends from school had all gone to university, and found great well paying careers. There was no contacting these people anymore, now that they had moved on and left him behind. No one forced him to be this way though, and his life was of his own doing. Did he really want to walk to the car park every day? Could he not just leave this world behind forever? He was interrupted when suddenly he was at the stairs to the sixth floor.
This floor was darker than the previous ones, and the number on the wall could barely be seen although the white arrow could just about be made out against the dark painted wall. He hugged the side of the car park tight, sticking to what little light there was. He heard footsteps. Were they echoes of his own? He was never one for confrontation, so he sped up but stepped lightly to leave this section quickly. He wondered if it was one of the homeless; he’d had issues with them before when leaving the office late. They were always drunk, and it made him disgusted. He would think to himself, ‘They should get a job’. He deserved the right to drink because he gave something back to society. His job was hard, he needed the help. They would probably attack him for his things and he was no fighter, so he hurried towards the faint light at the stairs.
On his way to the fifth floor, he skipped a few steps and landed heavily at the bottom hoping whoever was above him did not hear. His ankle hurt. He looked out into the dark night and wondered what the time was. He did not own a watch, and did not have his phone to check. There was nothing but black beyond the edge of the car park wall. The lights were very low, but he could see what was around him. A cry pierced through the air and he tried to pinpoint where it came from. It sounded like a child, and an instinct within him urged him to follow the sound. He noticed a black van, and ran towards it. The noise was coming from the back, so he tried to pull open the doors but they were locked. The windows were tinted black so it was no use looking through. He sprinted to the front to again find locked doors and tinted windows. When he got round to the back again, the crying stopped. He knocked on the back door in an attempt to elicit a response but there was nothing. He had to get back to his office, get his phone, and get help for the child. He ran towards the stairs leading to the fourth floor.
Who would leave a child in a van like that? Perhaps they just left briefly and meant to come back, but still, they should be watching their child. He jogged towards the next flight of stairs at the other end when he heard footsteps behind him. This time, there was no doubting he was being followed. He increased his pace as best he could, and the footsteps followed. They started to shout, but it was not words, just sounds. Loud, angry groans. He sprinted as fast as he could trying to escape the people chasing him. There was a row of cars on his right and he darted behind them, hoping his pursuers would run past. He waited, held his breath, and heard footsteps and screaming fly past him into the darkness. He emerged from his hiding spot when he could no longer hear his pursuers when suddenly all the lights turned on and the entire floor was lit. He was momentarily blinded, and after adjusting to the brightness he noticed that the car park was empty, apart from the car he was hiding behind. He made a beeline for the stairs and hit himself on the head with his hand repeatedly as he ran. Perhaps he’d had one too many drinks in the office. It had happened before, drinking more than he thought, so why could it not happen again?
His foot touched down on the third floor and as he lifted his head up, he gazed upon an impossible scene of an infinite expanse confined within the car park walls. Support beams and rows of spaces stretched eternally, curving off towards the edge of the horizon in all directions. He turned back but the stairs were no longer behind him. He noticed the floor was covered in a layer of dark purple sand, and he kicked it aside expecting to see concrete underneath but instead there was only black. He walked onwards, not knowing what direction he was facing. As he walked across the endless sands a feeling of acceptance washed over him, and he began to glide across the floor with his toes barely scraping the ground. He saw headlights pass over him and screech to the side. He heard a loud thud and screaming. The noises disappeared. The sights faded. In this moment, all that existed was him. He was nowhere, and he had given into darkness as one succumbs to sleep. From the emptiness, grains of sand formed together to create a small mass. The mass grew and took the shape of a man. He reformed piece by piece and was given life once more. The infinity surrounding him shrunk into the shape of the car park, and he was standing facing the stairs to the second floor.
He could not recall walking down the stairs, but he had arrived on the penultimate floor. He could make out the number ‘1’ and an arrow pointing him towards the ground floor, and as he had done on each floor, he followed it. He grew tired as he walked, struggling to lift his feet with each step. He stopped, and noticed he was unable to move his body beyond his eyes. He was tapped on the shoulder and made out a small figure in his periphery. A young girl walked towards his front and he tried to call out to her but sound could not leave his mouth – not even a whimper. He looked at her face and noticed a single tear dripping down her cheek. Her body began to crumple from the right side, first her arm pushed into her body combining it with her ribcage. Her head tilted to the right as she was slowly pushed off the ground. Her body was curving at a right angle being crushed by an invisible force. She paused, gazed at him in his eyes, and flew to the side at great speed. He felt pure horror flow through him as he recognised the girl, the girl he had hit nearly two decades ago. His punishment had arrived, and his body began to melt into the concrete floor of the car park, as ice melts into water. His arms were submerged under the concrete and his head was at floor level. He looked in front of him and saw his phone on the floor, impossible to reach. Slowly, his head was absorbed into the floor until he was gone.