Norris, you backstabbing liar. Fear and betrayal ran through my veins. I felt like I was running and running with nowhere to hide. It certainly frightens me to think about where we are at this point. What happened to our special relationship? Didn’t the words “I do” mean anything to you? You said “I do” to honor, respect and serve me, but instead, you humiliated me. You spat in my face when I needed you most, when I was most vulnerable. You are scum below scum.

Now I feel so lonely. Is there anyone out there who cares about me? As I was trapped in an elevator Wednesday night in Norris, I felt all hope draining from my body. I couldn’t believe it. Moments from my precious life ran through my mind. What had I accomplished? Is my life where I wanted it to be? I realized that nothing from my pathetic life made me content enough to live out my days in a cramped, stuffy elevator. Above all, I realized the trust that bound you and me was no more. All that I had believed in you, Norris – gone. At that moment, my world, along with the elevator, had come to an sudden halt. I was sad, alone and really kind of thirsty.

And where was my help? Finally having an opportunity to use the emergency call box in an elevator, I pushed the button I knew my life would depend on. Only about 10 rings in did an emergency call dispatcher pick up. He took down my name and number and said help was on its way. About 10 epic minutes in my prison, held captive against my will, I realized I couldn’t take it anymore. I needed to get out. I was in between floors. I heard the ring of the other running elevator, and I severely regretted my decision to take the right – wrong, actually – elevator on the first floor. Both opened at the same time, and I was a step closer to the right. Oh, how I should’ve known you, Norris, would screw me over like that. Only you.

I called speed dial No. 6 on my cell phone, The Daily design editor, who found my misery so entertaining she broadcasted it to the entire newsroom, sparking courageous Daily staffers Paul Takahashi and Liz Coffin-Karlin to come to my rescue. Motivated by their love for me, they found the strength – like a mother’s sudden adrenaline boost enabling her to lift a car to rescue her baby – to use their bare hands to rip apart these metal doors.

While I was gracious to breathe fresh third floor Norris air steps away from the women’s restroom, I must wonder why I was even put in such a position in the first place. It is outrageous such an atrocity can even happen – simply atrocious. It truly was a nightmare at Norris I’ll never be able to get over. And all that remains from it is an out of order sign plastered on each floor’s doors.

About 20 minutes later, I got a call from the dispatcher who promised help was on the way. I was out, I told him. Did the police come, he asked? No, and I told him of the unknown Daily heroes at Northwestern, a story I’ll be sharing with my children one day who will then pass it onto their children, a story used to incite strength – the story of my life, the story of Alice Truong.

And while this is certainly inspirational and moving, I must express disappointment in you, Norris. You know, at this point, I just don’t care anymore. Obviously, I meant nothing to you. Forget about the happy moments: I shared my soul with you while I wrote my history paper over a slice of Sbarro goodness, I cuddled with you as I napped in one of the Starbucks couches, I defended you when Daily staffers failed to see the beauty in you.

I think it’s time to part. It pains me, but I don’t know how I’ll ever forgive you. The nightmare is finally coming to an end.

I’m through with you. My lawyers will be sending the papers soon, but until then, I’ll see you every Wednesday night. Grudgingly.

– Alice TruongDeputy Forum editor