She struggled for what seemed like an hour, every minute thinking Time is running out. Soon, it will be over. The occassional light chuckle echoed eerily off the walls around her. She repeated dropped her face to the floor the suck in her only chance at survival. Her body weakened. Her hands shook. The air beneath the door seemed staler and staler. She forced all of her strength into the struggle, then forced it again. Every last surge of energy was deplenished. She exhausted stamina she didn't know she had. It was not enough.
It wasn't until the knife snapped in the frame, leaving her weaponless, her hands now barely able to grip, that she gave in. Her body crashed to the floor, her mouth landing by her one source of air. She inhaled, and her lungs burned as they filled with toxic gas. She feebly lifted her lids to allow herself a blurred image, the last thing she would ever see. The damp concrete. The aged steel. The shadow of two feet on the other side of the door.
She hadn't even heard the approach.
The bolt slid and the steel moved away from her quivering form. A hand gently lifted her head from the floor and slipped an elastic band past her ears. The mask snapped to her face, the oxygen slowly leaking into her nostrils.
"Now, Rosa," the voice drawled, a shadow kneeling toward her. "You know you need us."