FiveFiveFiveFiveFive

First of all, sorry for the formatting, as I am not a good writer and can't do this properly on mobile. But here goes nothing. This was written by me, so don't give me any credit, because I am not the best writer and I am only fifteen. But still give it a read. I've put hard work into this and won't let it be for nothing. New York. The Empire City. The brightest lights in the world. But to me, it might as well be pitch black. My name is Edward, and I am a resident of New York. I live in the bottom rungs of society. My life is tougher than most, but I am still alive. Barely. Once a week, I receive a parcel from my friend. And when I say friend, I mean my only friend. She has been good to me, and I do it all for her. She sends me food, water, and other necessities. But most importantly, she sends me a ticket. To the highest building in the city, the safest place in the world. How hard could it be, right? I've tried many times. But I could never make it past the screening. I'm not telling you this for sympathy, but to explain my situation. I am not a lucky person. But one day, I got lucky. I got past the screening. I made it to the elevator. The moment I pressed the button to the top floor, the brightest lights I had ever seen shone in my face. I covered my eyes. I was blinded. I stumbled away. That was when it happened. I felt a hand on my shoulder. A hand that wasn't mine. It felt warm. Comforting. I might have been blinded by the light, but I wasn't blind to the touch. I knew that it was a different hand. There was a woman standing in front of me. Her eyes were bright red. But her hand remained. I smiled, knowing I wasn't alone. She noticed it. She smiled too. It felt nice. I had not smiled in a long time. "How did you get past the screening?" She asked, before removing her hand. I felt a sharp pain after she removed it. It was cold. "I don't know," I replied. "I guess I got lucky." The elevator stopped. The doors opened. We walked out. It was dark. I heard the sound of dripping water. I heard footsteps. Heavy footsteps. I looked around, but I couldn't see anything. I asked the woman. "What's that noise?" I said. "Oh, it's just the others," she replied ominously. "Don't worry about them. Just be glad it isn't you." "What others?" I asked. "The ones that the company keeps," she replied. "The ones that never made it past the screening. The ones that they didn't need." "But I didn't make it through the screening either," I said. "Why do they need me?" "You're different," she said. "You're just a little different. Yeah, that's it." "Why didn't you get off at the top floor?" I asked. "Why are you down here with me?" I heard her cry. I heard her sniffle. I heard her voice crack. "I didn't make it," she said. "I couldn't. And even if I did, I couldn't. There's some things you can't escape." "I-" The elevator doors opened. An old man stepped out of the elevator. He was hunched. He looked dead. His eyes were red. And he looked at me. I felt his breath. He spoke in a hoarse voice. "You're not supposed to be here." "What's wrong with this place?" I asked the woman. "What's the company?" "I don't know," she said. "I've been here for years. But I know nothing about it." The old man raised his cane. He swung it at me. I ducked, before I punched him in the face. He fell to the ground. He groaned in agony. I asked again. "What's wrong with this place? What's the company?" I asked again. "I don't know," she said. "But I'll tell you something. It's not called the Empire State Building. It's called the Empire Tower. And it only has FiveFiveFiveFiveFive floors." "And what else?" I asked. "There's only one elevator," she said. "What's wrong with the stairs?" "I don't know," she said. "But there's something wrong with it. I know that much. If you want answers, go to the bottom floor. But you can't. You can't, no matter how hard you try." "I can," I said. "I will." "I don't think that's a good idea," she said. "I really don't." There was a rapid beeping noise. The lights flickered. There was a voice. It was a woman's voice. I recognised her voice. "This is Janet," she said. "The tower is closing. You have one hour to get to the elevator. One hour. Don't be late. And watch out for the wakers." "Who's Janet?" I asked. "She's the voice," she said. "Or at least, the voice. She's not real. But she's how they communicate with us. Them. You know." "There's only one elevator?" I asked. "But where does it take us?" "It takes us to the others," she said. "It takes us to the company. And it takes us to death." "That doesn't make any sense," I said. "I know," she replied. "Nothing makes sense here. Why do you think I'm talking to you?" "Wait, what do you mean?" I asked. "I'm talking to you," she said. "I'm talking to you, despite everything. I'm talking to you, despite the fact that I'm dead. And I'm talking to you, despite the fact that you can't hear me." I felt a hand on my shoulder again. I turned. There was nobody there. "I can hear you," I said. "I can see you." "No," she said. "You can't. You can't hear me. You can't see me. And even if you could, you can't touch me. You can't touch me, Edward." "How do you know my name?" I asked. "I don't know," she replied. "But I do. And if you're going to the bottom floor, I should come with you." "I don't think that's a good idea," I said. "I don't think it is either," she said. "But that's what I'm going to do anyway." "You're dead," I said. "You shouldn't be here. You should be at peace." "No," she said. "I'm not dead. I'm just...different. I don't know how to explain it. But I'm not dead. And if you're going to the bottom floor, I should come with you." "I don't think it's a good idea," I said. "I don't think it is either," she said. "But that's what I'm going to do anyway." "But you're dead," I said. "And not just that. You're not here. I can't see you. You can't hear me. You might as well be talking to yourself." "Oh," she said. "Then who are you talking to?" I felt a hand on my shoulder again. I turned. There was nobody there. "I'm talking to myself," I said. "No, you're not," she said. "You're talking to me, Edward. You're talking to me." "But you're dead," I said. "And not only that. You're not real. I know that much." "Oh," she said. "Then who am I talking to?" "I'm talking to myself," I said. "I've been talking to myself this whole time. But it's okay. I know that. It's okay." "I see," she said. "Then can you answer me a question?" "What is it?" I replied. "Why are you talking to yourself?" She asked. "I don't know," I said. "I just am. That's it. I just am." "I see," she said. "Then can I ask you one more question?" "What is it?" I replied. "Why do you keep calling me her?" She asked. "I don't know," I said. "It just feels natural. It just feels right. That's it. It just feels right." "I see," she said. "Then can you answer me one more question?" "What is it?" I replied. "Why do you keep calling yourself me?" She asked. "I don't know," I said. "It just feels natural. It just feels right. That's it. It just feels right." "I see," she said. "Then can I ask you one more question?" "What is it?" I replied. "Why do you keep calling yourself her?" She asked. "I don't know," I said. "It just feels natural. It just feels right. That's it. It just feels right." "I don't think that's a good idea," she said. "No, I don't think it is." "I know," I said. "I know that much. I know it's not a good idea. But that's what I'm going to do anyway." "Don't," she said. "Don't go down to the bottom floor. Don't go down to the bottom floor, Edward." "Why not?" I asked. "Don't," she said. "Don't go down to the bottom floor. Don't go down to the bottom floor, Edward." "Why not?"

FiveFiveFiveFiveFive

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