"Save me!" a man's voice cries out in the darkness. "Please save me!"
"I can't see you," she replies. "I don't know where you are."
"Save me! Please save me!" the voice pleads again.
"I want to," she says. "But I can't move either."
She loses consciousness.
When she wakes, the voice is gone.
In that cramped, dark grave under 700 tons of concrete and steel, she is all alone.
The concept of purgatory isn't familiar to most Bangladeshis.
But the way Reshma describes her 17 harrowing days -- buried underground in pitch-black darkness as the voices around her faded away, as sweltering days bled into humid nights, as she questioned whether she was in this world or the next -- it's an apt one.
"I'd crawl, tire and sleep. I would wake up and crawl again," Reshma recounted, her voice barely audible, as she spoke to CNN on Tuesday.
It was one of her first extended one-on-one interviews since rescuers pulled her out alive last week from the rubble of a collapsed building.
"I told God, 'Take me, if that's your will. If not, then save me.
" 'But don't leave me here like this.' "
The youngest in the family is often the most rebellious.
And Reshma, the fifth child of her mother, Zubaida, always had an independent streak.
When she was little, she preferred rolling a tire down the street with the boys to dressing up dolls with the girls.
As a teen, she surprised her family by marrying a man several years her elder.
She was in love, she told them, and love has no boundaries.
"We accepted him," Zubaida said. "But he wasn't good to her."
He'd tell her that her family hadn't paid enough in dowry. He'd taunt her that he'd take another wife. And, said her mother, he "tortured her."
"We gave as much as we could," she said. "But it wasn't enough."
In June 2010, the couple moved from Dinjapur to Dhaka, the go-to destination for the destitute looking to change their fortunes.
A garment worker himself, the husband persuaded Reshma to join the trade.