One Way Out by R. L. Weeks Page B

her father. She had let Teddy out for a wee and had forgotten to lock the door after. The sound of the door sliding open downstairs caught her attention. Unlocking the door, careful not to make a sound, she cracked the door open, shushing it when the hinges creaked.
    “Teddy,” she croaked, her voice barely a whisper. Instead of a howl or heavy panting that she longed to hear, the sound of creaking floorboards as someone walked up the stairs were all that could be heard. “Oh no,” she said under breath, tears falling into her hair. Pushing back the bathroom door, she crawled in, letting the lock click shut. Heavy footsteps pounded through the house as whoever it was reached the landing.
    She heard the unmistakable creak of her bedroom door and then the sound of rustling papers. She peered out of the bathroom window, all of the other houses had their lights on. Someone had cut the electricity in the house then. The thought was too much, this couldn’t be happening, not to her. Moving off of the edge of the bath and back down to the floor, careful not to make a sound, she tried to think of a plan.
    She had to get Teddy and make a run for it. Looking around for a weapon of some kind to use, she spotted the toilet roll holder. It was metal, probably wouldn’t be much use, but it was better than nothing.
    She eyed the holder, using her fingernail to unscrew the fittings, breaking two in the process. She finally removed it from the wall, and took the toilet roll off, breaking off the bit in the middle leaving her with a round metal semicircle.
    She froze as someone tapped three times on the bathroom door. She put her hand over her mouth and tried to steady her breathing. They pushed down the handle, trying to push the door open.
    After a few minutes, they gave up and walked away. Laura pulled her hand away, breathing a sigh of relief.
    The person stomped off down the stairs. She heard the back door slide shut and her thoughts flickered to Teddy.
    She clicked open the bathroom door, knowing it could be a trap, but she had to find Teddy. Tiptoeing down the stairs, she stopped when a floorboard let out a loud creak that was escalated by the protruding silence. She let out a deep breath before continuing, her clammy hand gripped around the holder, her other hand firmly grasped around the torch.
    “Teddy,” she whispered, her voice so low that she could barely hear it herself. She choked back a sob as she entered the living room, pushing the door back slowly. Her heart drummed at a hundred miles an hour as she prepared herself for the worse.
    Pointing the beam of light around the door, then scanning the rest of the room, she couldn’t see anyone or Teddy. She could hear barking in the garden as she approached the kitchen, “Teddy,” she gasped. Running out into the kitchen, catching her foot on one of his toys, she fell forward, her arm smashing into the tiled floor. The torch rolled away from her, the toilet roll holder sliding out of sight. She got to her feet, grabbed the torch and decided to give up on the toilet roll holder. Instead, she slid open the drawer and grabbed a butcher's knife.
    She tested the kitchen light, but with no luck, raised a trembling hand out to the patio door, placing it on the handle. The back garden led out onto a creepy woods, littered with ghost stories, so the garden was not where she wanted to be. Especially considering the house was detached, and the closest house to them was the horrible couple who lived next door. She shone the light to the bottom of the garden, clothes had been left out to dry, her dad had forgotten to take them in yet again. The white sheets blew gently in the cold breeze. The barking started again, she pointed the torch at the spot and saw Teddy’s eyes shining out, barking ferociously at something behind her. She quickly turned, and on seeing nothing went over to grab Teddy, why wasn’t he running towards her?
    Then she saw why, her hand shot up to her mouth to