Pull me

She looked like an dark-haired Barbie doll, her face thick with make up and her eyelashes so long they would enter a room seconds before she did. Her black hair was scraped back into an elegant ponytail that bobbed as she trotted down the plane. She could have been 15 or 50 it was impossible to tell. She smiled and asked me very politely if I'd mind moving to the emergency exit row. It was a no brainer, I was in a budget airline seat with two noisy Spaniards for company and she was giving me the chance to sit on my own with legroom longer than her eyelashes. It was the low-cost equivalent of being bumped to business class. But there would be one problem - temptation.

I had a two-hour flight in front of me and I knew that for the next two hours I would have that voice inside my head chatting away.

'Go on, open it, open it. Pull the handle, it's telling you to do it, it says pull on it, go on, pull the handle, pull it.'

Of course sensible, sober, serious me wanted nothing to do with this caper, pulling the handle would open the door and God knows what that would mean, it'd probably lead to the plane falling from the sky like an arrow crashing into the ground causing the death of all the people on it.

But that knowledge didn't seem to affect the gremlins in my head, if anything it made them stronger, more vociferous, more persuasive.

I told myself not to listen - just because they shout loudest doesn't mean they're right - but every time my eyes caught sight of that red handle with the word pull emblazoned on it the voices grew louder and the resistance weaker. The instructions on the seat in front of me made it all look so simple, so easy, one yank downwards and the emergency exit would swing open. My fingers itched and tears ran down my face as I realised I was losing the battle of wills going on inside my head. The gremlins were winning the fight. I watched my own hand moving by itself, not controlled by the rational side of my brain, controlled by gremlins. I was going to do it. My hand touched the cold red metal. I was ready, one tug and that would be that.

'Are you okay?' It was the sweet voice of the Barbie doll. My hand jumped away from the handle, my face was sodden with tears. I looked at her guiltily and then hugged her, crying like a tired baby. It felt like the weight had been lifted. 

'Thank you thank you thank you,' I  sobbed. 'Please move me away from this seat. I can't handle the temptation.'
Of course you can she said. 
But just as I stood up the voices came again. 
My hand shot out and yanked the handle.
(The part in blue was added on the  16/03/2016)