The end of the rope

Something I came up with, Tell me what you think. Thanks!

     Nothing could be heard over the sound of the roaring gas line. As a toxic gas quickly spewed out of the blasted pipe and into the air I quickly tried to find an escape route. I was in some sort of a laboratory, the lighting was dim and I struggled to get up on my feet. As I crawled along the cold hard surface of the floor another noise entered my ears. Suddenly a loud siren went off and the room flashed in a haze of red mist. ‘’They know about me’’ I thought. I felt my chest tighten more and more. I looked around through the thick fog and spotted an exit. ‘’If only I could get out’’. I slowly lifted myself up from the floor thanks to the help of a table. Which then guided me along even though my head felt like it was on fire, and my legs weak. The stench in the room was overpowering and foul. But the smell was the least of my worries. As I made it over to the exit, a large iron door stood in front of me, with a long, slender, vertical handle. I grabbed the handle and gave it a few yanks and pushes. Meanwhile my hands were getting tired and it was taking all my might to stand up. I felt it was all over for me. As I fell to my knees I started thinking. Of everything I would miss in my life. As I took larger breathes of the gas, sharp pains soon dug into every part of my body. At this point I thought it would be best if I died. I started inhaling more and more of the toxic air trying to catch my breath, and then I lay flat onto the floor. I couldn’t do anything about it, I was going to die. Closing my eyes I drifted off into death. I remember the sound of the siren and the misty red light. I was at the end of my rope.