When I stepped into the elevator, the man getting off leaned closer and whispered something that made no sense at all. “Don’t get out until you reach the ninth floor.” His voice was low, tense, like he was forcing the words out before something stopped him. “But my interview is on the fifth,” I said, already annoyed and confused. He didn’t react to that, just stared at me like I didn’t understand something obvious. “I’ll only say this once. Do not get out before the ninth floor. No other floor is safe.” It sounded insane, but the way he said it stuck in my head. The doors closed before I could ask anything else. Who the hell says something like that to a stranger. I reached for the fifth floor button, then hesitated for a second. Something felt wrong, like my hand knew before my brain did. I shook it off and pressed it anyway.

The elevator started moving, smooth and quiet like any other. There was a small TV in the corner playing a weather forecast, a mirror behind me, and soft lounge music filling the space. Everything looked normal, almost too normal. “Welcome to the fifth floor,” a voice said through the speakers. That caught me off guard, I don’t remember elevators announcing every stop like that. DING. The doors opened and I saw a small reception desk with a woman behind it. She stood up the moment she saw me. “Mr. Daniel! You’re early!” she said with a bright smile that didn’t feel right. I immediately thought about the warning. Something about her tone felt rehearsed. “We’ll be ready for your interview shortly. Please, take a seat.”

“Thanks,” I said slowly, stepping back instead of forward. “If I’m early, I can come back later.” She smiled wider, almost excited. “Nonsense. He’s very eager to meet you.” The elevator doors started closing behind me. I stuck my hand between them and they reopened immediately. I looked past her into the office. Cubicles, people working, a kitchen in the back, everything looked normal. Except for one thing. A massive, blurry portrait hanging at the far end of the room. Employees were gathered around it, staring at it like it mattered more than anything else. Then she spoke again. “Your wife’s name is Melissa, right?” My stomach dropped.

I never told anyone that. “You’ve been thinking about kids, haven’t you? If it’s a boy, you want to name him Ethan.” My head started spinning. She was right. Completely right. But I had only ever talked about that with my wife. Before I could say anything, the workers gathered around the portrait started singing Happy Birthday. Someone brought out a cake and placed it beneath the image. I leaned forward just enough to see it clearly. It was me. A grainy, enlarged photo of me from high school. I stepped back into the elevator and slammed the close door button. It didn’t react. I pressed it again, harder. Nothing. Come on. Finally, after what felt like forever, the doors shut.

As the elevator moved, I heard her voice one last time. “I wonder what you taste like, Michael.” I pressed the ninth floor button immediately. Nothing happened. No light, no movement. I pressed it again. And again. Nothing. Fine. Ground floor. I reached for zero and froze. It was gone. That single button had disappeared. My chest tightened as panic started creeping in. The elevator began moving upward on its own. The panel above the door lit up. Eleven. I tried to calm myself down by talking out loud. “It’s fine. Someone will call the elevator. It’s fine.” But the music had changed.

It was now an instrumental version of Happy Birthday. The TV still showed a sunny forecast like nothing was wrong. “Welcome to the eleventh floor.” DING. The doors opened but I didn’t move. I couldn’t risk stepping out again. Then an elderly woman walked in, smiling gently like everything was perfectly normal. Good. Someone normal. “Which floor?” I asked. “Ground floor,” she said. “That button doesn’t exist,” I replied. “Maybe we should wait for the ninth.” She shook her head softly. “No dear, I’ll go to the second.” She reached for the button.

“Please don’t,” I said quickly. “I don’t think it’s safe.” She smiled again, but something in the mirror behind her felt off. “I like taking chances,” she said calmly. “It’s a shame you didn’t take yours. They’re very disappointed in you on the fifth floor.” My back hit the wall. The reflection didn’t look human anymore. “Welcome to the second floor.” The doors opened. She stepped out. I leaned forward slightly and saw something wrong immediately. The place looked damp, like a cave, not an office. Then I heard it. A deep, rhythmic pounding.

A man in a suit appeared before the doors could close. “You getting off here too?” he asked casually. “I heard the fifth floor wanted you. We can offer something better.” “I’m fine,” I said. “Are you sure?” he smiled. “Eight hundred thousand an hour.” “I’m fine.” His smile widened. “Or we remove your eyes so you don’t have to see Him.” The floor beneath him turned black. The pounding got louder. Suddenly he grabbed my collar and pulled. I slammed against the wall, kicking, hitting, trying to break free. Somehow I managed to reach the button and hit close.

This time it worked instantly. The doors slammed shut. I hit the eighth floor just to get away. The elevator shot upward. BANG. BANG. BANG. Something was hitting the doors from the outside. It didn’t matter what floor we passed, the sound stayed just as loud. Third. Fourth. Fifth. Still pounding. Sixth. Seventh. Still there. My heart was racing so fast I thought I’d pass out. “Welcome to the eighth floor.” I didn’t let the doors open. I slammed the close button and hit twenty-three. The doors started bending inward from the force outside. Then suddenly the noise stopped. Completely. Silence.

“Welcome to the twenty-third floor.” The doors opened and I stepped out, breathing hard. It looked like the lobby. The exit. I made it. A man stood near the doors, looking familiar. “Hey man,” he said. It was him. The one who warned me. “You made it out.” Relief hit me hard but I held back. “You said the ninth floor was safe,” I said. He smiled slightly. “That was a trick. You trusted yourself. That’s why you’re here.” I didn’t move. “There’s someone who wants to meet you,” he continued. “He has a job for you.”

I tried to move but I couldn’t. My body felt locked in place. “Just look at Him,” he said calmly. “It’ll feel strange at first, then it’ll be fine.” I looked down at the floor instead. “It’s not my birthday,” I whispered. He chuckled softly. “We’re a family here.” Then he walked away. I forced my hand toward the button. Slowly, painfully slow. I heard footsteps returning. I slammed the button just in time. The doors closed and I collapsed. “I’ll let you two talk in the elevator!” he shouted.

I looked around. No one else was there. Then I saw it. The ninth floor button was glowing. My phone rang. My wife. I answered immediately. I started rambling, trying to explain everything. “Don’t go to the ninth floor,” she said calmly. “What? How do you even know—” “Trust me.” Something felt wrong. “What do I do then?” The voice changed. “GO TO THE INTERVIEW.” I hung up and smashed the phone on the ground, stomping it until it stopped making noise.

The elevator began to shake violently. Then it shot upward at insane speed. “Welcome to the forty-first floor.” I fell to my knees. “Welcome to the ninetieth floor.” The panel only went to fifty-two. “Welcome to the one hundred forty-first floor.” The voice was getting deeper. “Welcome to the two hundred thirtieth floor.” My stomach dropped. “Welcome to the eight hundred fortieth floor.” The voice distorted. Became something else. “Welcome to a nice place.”

The elevator stopped. Silence. No floor displayed. Just noises outside. Low growls, screams, something dragging. A quiet knock on the door. “Do you want to trade?” a child’s voice asked. “What?” I whispered. “You stay here forever, I go home.” I closed my eyes. “No.” Silence. Then softly. “He said happy birthday.”

The screen flickered. CCTV footage. Me. Lying on the floor. Smiling. The lights went out. The elevator dropped. I screamed, waiting for impact. Waiting for the end. Then. “Welcome to the ninth floor.” DING. The doors opened. A reception desk.

“Are you getting out or what?” the receptionist said.

And just like that, everything felt… fine.