Nina despised roller coasters and any kind of amusement park rides. Her brother made her go on every single ride in the Six Flags park in New Jersey and she hated every second of it. She couldn't understand what was so bloody awesome about awaiting imminent death by being plunged forcefully from considerable height.

It made her sick. But more so, it scared her. It scared the living daylight out of her. Falling dreams were her worst nightmares.

But the plunging lift was much, much worse.

The speed of the descent made Nina's stomach churn, the free fall sucking all the strength from her body. She desperately tried to hold onto the handrail, her hands sweaty and slippy, to brace herself for the impending impact.

Dread filled Nina, sheer mortal fear gripped her heart within its ice cold grasp. She felt her knees go weak, as horror froze any thought but one.

I don't want to die.

The screeching metal of the emergency brakes had her ears ringing and Nina heard someone screaming, before realising it was her.

The sudden stop of the cabin catapulted her with full force onto the floor and her body bounced back up like a rubber ball, before she hit the ground once more. Sending her into a world of pain.

It was pitch black and deathly still for a long moment. Then there was another loud bang to her left, as if something big had hit the wall. A loud thud could be heard moments later, it felt as if the cabin was now slightly tilted.

All Nina could hear in the ensuing silence was her frantic breathing, her heart thudding and her ears ringing.

Then she heard the guy groan somewhere to her left.

Nina's left wrist hurt like hell, her head was throbbing and she felt like throwing her insides up. The groaning beside her got louder.

The guy! Maybe he was injured.

"Are you okay, sir?" she asked, her voice sounding strange to her ears.

His response was just a groan.

With trembling hands, she fumbled for her phone in her coat pocket and turned on the torch. It lit up the cabin in a surreal, ghostly way. The formerly perfectly straight left wall was badly dented. Right at the bottom of it was the guy.

He lay on his side, crumpled on the floor, groaning.

"Sir? Hello?" she whispered frantically, as she quickly tried to assess him for injuries. "Can you hear me? Can you please say something?"

He groaned again.

She ignored the pain in her wrist and head and scooted over to him, placing her phone on the floor so the torch lit up the cabin.

"My name is Nina, I need to see where you're injured. I'm going to touch your shoulder and turn you over onto your back now."

His response was another groan.

Her fingers found his shoulder and she felt his muscles strain under her touch. She rolled him onto his back as slowly and gently as she could. His sunglasses were hanging off his left ear, smashed, his beanie had come off.

Then she saw the blood. He had a long, deep cut on his forehead, a piece of one of the lenses from his sunglasses still lodged in there. It was bleeding rather a lot.

Nina wiped the sweat off her forehead, going into first aider mode, voice surprisingly steady and firm.

"I'm going to have to check you for injuries. I'll be really careful, tell me when it hurts."

She moved her hands deftly down his jaw, over his shoulders down his arms. Then she moved down his torso. When she touched his left side, he groaned again, tensing up.

Bruised or broken ribs, Nina noted to herself. Her hands made their way further down his body. The gash on his head and his ribs seemed to be the only injuries. Judging from his groaning he'd banged his head badly.

"Looks like you have some very bruised or broken ribs and a nasty gash to your forehead," she said, hoping he'd finally say something.

"Fuck," he cursed. "Fuck, that hurts."

He tried to roll back onto his side, but she stopped him.

"Let's sit you up, sir. You can hunch over, that's better for your ribs than lying on them," she said.

She put her hands under his shoulders and helped him to sip up, propping him up against the back wall of the lift. She bit her lip hard when her left wrist protested.

"There. Lean forward, curl yourself in like so," she demonstrated and he followed her instructions.

She snatched her phone off the ground. No signal. Of course. Couldn't even make an emergency call. That meant all networks were down. She scrambled to the emergency phone in the box under the control panel.

"Hello? Hello!" The line was dead.

She pushed her ear against the dented doors. She couldn't hear anything.

"Hello?" she shouted. "Can anyone hear me? We're stuck in the lift! Please get help!"

For good measure she banged against the door with her flat hand.

"Stop shouting and banging!" the guy hissed, his hands stuffed under his armpits, hunching over, before frantically searching one of his pockets.

She checked her phone again. Her battery was at 85%. At least she'd have enough light to patch him up.

"Shit, my battery's dead," he said in a strained voice, shoving his phone in his pocket. "Have you got service?"

"I'm afraid not. I'm guessing that was quite an earthquake that took the networks out. But the hotel has an emergency protocol, they'll come look in the lifts soon," she consoled him.

At least that's what she'd read once in the folder of a hotel. Whether or not that was actually true, they'd find out.

"Well, shit," he said, bringing his hand to his forehead. "Ow!"

"You got a bit of your sunglasses stuck in there," she explained, as she started rummaging through her bag and then found what she was looking for.

"It's quite a deep cut, it needs stitching up."

He looked at her in horror. And for the first time she actually saw his eyes: a beautiful blue. Like the sky on a summer's day.

"I mean, I can put a plaster on, but that won't stop the bleeding and I'm not sure how long we're going to be stuck in here. Not saying you'll die of this, but it might get infected and-"

"And who's going to stitch this up?" he interrupted harshly.

She held up a pocket sewing kit.

"What?! No fucking way. You are not stitching me up!"

"It's not a sewing needle, it's a proper swaged needle surgeons use, with surgical thread," she explained. "I know how to do this, promise."

"No. Fucking. Way. Are. You. Stitching. Me. Up," he ground out through his teeth.

She bit the side of her mouth. "Do you want to do it yourself?" she offered in a small voice.

"Are you fucking mental?!"

She put her hands up. "Just asking. Look, if you're worried about scars, there's excellent surgeons that can fix that for you and you'll have your gorgeous face back in no time."

He just huffed. Silence fell between them.

She moved her phone to turn off the torch to save some battery.

Silence and darkness engulfed them.

Nina felt uncomfortable. Her head and wrist were hurting, but she knew they were lucky to be alive. She didn't want to think about what she had experienced just minutes earlier, so she stuffed it away, to the back of her mind.

She took a deep breath. Mmh... burger.

What a strange thing to fantasise about.

Her eyes shot open the same moment her stomach grumbled. She turned the torch on her phone back on and found the paper bag on the floor. Her mouth watered.

A glance to her left showed that he was awake, watching her.

"Do you want some?" she offered.

"What?"

"Big Mac. Extra cheese, tomatoes, lettuce, extra pickle, BBQ sauce," she said, opening the bag, holding it out to him.

"I'm vegan," he grumbled offended.

She looked down at the burger and back up at him. "Do you just want the lettuce, tomatoes and pickles?"

"I don't want to eat, okay?" he bellowed. "I want to get the fuck out of here!"

It was silent for a long moment.

Then she cleared her throat awkwardly.

"Is it... um... is it okay if I eat?" she asked quietly. "I haven't had anything all day..."

"I don't give a fuck what you do, just leave me the fuck alone" he sighed, exasperated, leaning his head back against the wall.

She bit her lip, grabbed the burger and turned off the torch. Complete darkness surrounded them, as she tried to eat as silently as possible.

After she finished, she cradled her left hand to her torso, leaning her head back against the wall. She suddenly remembered that she had painkillers in her bag.

Turning the torch back on, she quickly found what she was looking for.

"Oh, what now?" her companion groaned. "Are you going to produce some knitting out of that ridiculous bag of yours?"

She held up a small box and a water bottle. "Actually, I was going to offer you some painkillers."

He grabbed the box out of her hand and took some tablets, washing them down with a long gulp of water.

"That's the only water we have," she pointed out, "go easy."

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. And threw the box and bottle back to her. "Thanks."

Nina didn't catch the box, so it hit her square in the chest. Biting her lip, she fiddled it open. There were two tablets left. She took one with a small sip of water and stuffed everything back in her bag.

She held a wad of tissues out to him. "For your head," she said quietly.

He snatched it from her hand, gingerly pressing it to his forehead.

Dejectedly, she turned off the torch.

Suddenly, she felt very tired.

This was not how it was supposed to go. She was supposed to be in bed, after a nice hot shower, her burger and potentially a glass of wine from the hotel mini bar. Instead, she was stuck in a lift with Grumpy McGrumpFace.

Who happened to have a rather gorgeous face, but boy had this man attitude issues. She tried to put it down to him being in pain and probably being scared and tired. All she had done was offer help. No need to be such an ass about it. Maybe he'd just had a really, really bad day.

She shrugged it off and scooted down the wall, curling up on the floor. For now, imagining a nice fluffy bed would have to do.