Trapped... In a cellar, of all places - Alternative Ending

This is basically the original but with a different ending, was not sure which one to use. Personally, I think the original was better. There are not many changes but it's there for yas if yas want it.

“Damn!” she cursed, “Bloody door. OPEN!” She banged her fist against the thick wooden door, resulting in nothing more than a grazed knuckle. She turned around in a tight 360 degree circle and slumped to the floor, leaning against the barrier between themselves and freedom.

Meanwhile, he had taken a less violent and more resigned approach to the fortunate/unfortunate situation (depending on how you looked at it). Instead of squandering his energy by trying to accomplish the most impossible of tasks in attempting to break the door down, he had explored the boundaries of the confined cellar. In his circuit he pretended to be searching for an alternative method of departure from the disgustingly dirty and neglected room. He even examined a particularly loose brick in the grey stone wall just in case the old house had a secret passageway. Not that he wanted to escape.

He had been hoping to spend some time alone with her tonight before the inevitable split which was bound to happen since school finally ended the next day, but he’d never imagined that he would get his wish. He had something that he longed to tell her but had been too afraid of rejection to say before now. Since it was probably the last time he would ever see her again, he felt it safe to reveal his secret yearning for her. For years he had been enraptured merely by her presence. And that smile! He couldn’t deny it anymore and felt that she needed to know before it was too late, just in case. Since he had the opportunity, all he required was the courage.

Both had been nominated to traipse down to the cellar to retrieve the secret store of saved spirits and booze that resided there for the party – the host’s parents had no knowledge of this fact of course – when they had been locked in. They knew that the room was virtually sound proof thanks to the tedious tour forced upon them by the fine owner of this majestic mansion, so it was wasted effort to try shouting themselves hoarse.

When she showed no sign of relinquishing her position any time soon, he wordlessly picked a small bottle of Smirnoff Ice out of the bag. He took a bottle opener out of his pocket and wrestled with the top until it landed with a gentle clatter on the cold, hard stone before gesturing for her to take it. She paused and accepted, her eyes conveying her silent thank you since her mouth was preoccupied with taking a sip of the vodka. He uncapped a bottle of his own, slipped the opener back into his pocket and sat down beside her on the floor. When fairly comfortable, he brought the drink to his lips and took a swig.

                “Better?” he queried. His question was answered with a nod and a surrendered sigh.

                “Doesn’t solve the more imminent problem though does it.” Was the reply.

                “Best I can do I’m afraid.”

She chuckled and took another drink. He watched her as she did so and admired her fluid movements and smooth neck that seemed to elongate when she tilted her head back.  He quickly turned away when she brought the bottle down to rest in her lap and stared at the opposing wall.

                A thoughtful passed her face briefly and spoke aloud her thought, “To pass the time; why don’t we play a game?”

                It was his turn to chuckle and he shook his head, “I’m not one for games.” The determined look she displayed amused him further. When he saw she was not giving up, he explained: “I always lose.” She matched his smile.

                “Tough, you got us into this mess so you will be subjected to my will and I want to play a game.”

                A sigh escaped him. “Alright, go on then.” Her features immediately morphed into an expression of triumph at his faux-dejected tone. She knew he was only teasing her; he didn’t mind really. He would do anything for her and she sorely hoped that he never had to act upon those words, he meant too much to her to hurt him.

                “What kind of game?”

                “Truth.” He turned to look at her and saw her notorious smile that oozed mischief – a factor that extended to her eyes, making them sparkle ferociously. His insides did a back-flip and burned. He quickly faced the wall and took another drink, suddenly becoming very self-conscious.


                “Yeah, we take it in turns to ask questions and you have to answer all questions honestly, you know, stuff like; ‘What was your most embarrassing moment?’ and ‘What song describes you best?’”

                He deliberated for a moment. “Go on then, it seems safe.”

                She beamed, “Me first.” She slipped into a contemplative state for a while in order to find the perfect question, automatically taking a drink while she contemplated. When she deemed the one in her head suitable, she looked back at him. “Do you love me?”

                If he had been drinking at that moment then it would have found itself suddenly spat out over the floor in shock. Fortunately he was able to maintain his dignity in that manner but the growing colour in his cheeks slowly drained it away.

                “What makes you ask that?” He said, avoiding her gaze.

                “Just answer the question,” when he remained silent she elaborated, “there are rumours, everyone seems to think that you do...and – “ she cut off and swallowed nervously before continuing, “and I was sort of hoping...that...they were – perhaps – true.”

                His head shot up and he studied her face. He saw no hint of a lie, or a joke. She seemed genuinely curious, no, it was more than that. She looked rather hopeful, as if she wouldn’t dare let herself believe that something as impossible as her feelings being returned was even achievable.

Oh God was she blind.

                Without breaking visual contact he took both their bottles and placed them to one side. Then he took her hand in his and took a deep breath before he whispered, “Yes. I do.”

                He drowned his senses in her as she prevented him from saying anymore by stopping his mouth with hers. He closed his eyes and breathed her in, smelling the sweet scent of her hair and the intoxication of her perfume. As she came closer, his heartbeat doubled in pace to beat in time with hers, the blood it circulated pounding in his ears, blocking out all apart from the sound of their rapid, uneven breathing. Heat coursed through his veins as he took her in his arms and held her tight against him, relishing every second of the kiss. She responded eagerly and drew closer to him. He pulled her closer and she wound her arms around his neck – his going around her waist, crushing her to his chest. For the next few minutes they were blissfully separated from reality and in a world all of their own, where they could fly, climbing ever higher.

                When it came to an end, he murmured, “My turn.”

                She smiled at him with the smile that melted him from the inside out, her eyes twinkling in the half light of the bare bulb hanging from the ceiling. He saw in her eyes something that he hadn’t dare believe could ever be possible; they smouldered with passion and set him alight, his skin burning wherever it touched her. He couldn’t believe he finally had her.

                “Do you love me back?”

                “I believe I’ve already answered that,” she whispered. Both of their faces grew into an identical grin which was impossible for the other to resist.

The End

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