mimi: Imagine if: Then a soft chuckle. “Because I want to see if you deserve to get out.” My heart pounded violently. “Please—just let me go!” “No,” he said simply. “But I’ll help you. Listen carefully. Every minute you waste… is a minute of air you don’t get back.” I clenched my fists. Rage flared.
mimi: Rage flared for a moment, cutting through the fear. “Your first hint,” he continued, “is beneath your left shoulder.” My breath hitched. Slowly, carefully, I shifted my body. The confined space made every movement agonizing. My elbow scraped something hard—metal. A small object.
mimi: With shaking hands, I pulled it free. It was a narrow tool… a screwdriver. Hope surged through me. “Yes,” his voice whispered. “You’re starting to understand.” I began scraping at the wood above me, each motion slow and desperate. The coffin creaked faintly, but the soil above.
mimi: absorbed most of the sound. “Not there,” he said suddenly. I stopped. “Think,” he continued. “If you dig straight up, the earth will collapse in on you. You’ll suffocate before you reach the surface.” My pulse quickened. “Then where?!” A longer pause this time. “To your right.
mimi: there’s a weakness.” I swallowed hard and turned, pressing my ear against the wood. At first, nothing—then faintly, I noticed a subtle difference. The wood sounded hollow. With renewed urgency, I drove the screwdriver into that side. The wood cracked easier this time.
mimi: Dirt trickled in, cold and damp against my skin. I coughed, choking as soil filled the narrow space. “Faster,” he urged. “I’m trying!” I gasped, clawing at the opening, widening it inch by inch. My nails tore, my hands burned, but I kept going. The dirt suddenly gave way.
