Hidden. Your eyes ache with the pressure of the dark.
You hear them moving in the room next door, turning over furniture, dragging out the bed. If you breathe you are dead, you’re sure. They’ll hear you. Your knees are beginning to ache though. You have to try to move, to uncoil that ache. Coat hangers grate as you slide yourself to a new position, slowly, carefully. No one could have heard that sound, surely?
And now you’re huddled at the back of the wardrobe, and they are in the room. They are in the room, they are just a few feet away, and they are coming closer. They are walking straight for the wardrobe. No. This can’t be happening. Things like this don’t happen. But they are happening. They are happening to you. You pull the black coat up over your heard. You hunker down. The wardrobe opens. A light shines in. This is it.
Image Credit: William Carlson