Trapped

When Joe enters an unassuming home through a window to take a few things, he finds that he no longer has a way out when the owner returns home.

The window was open. That meant it was okay to go in. That’s what Joe’s rule was: do no harm; force not an entry. It was amazing how many people didn’t lock their doors or use the latches on the windows. Joe was young and just trying to get by. He did what he had to.

He didn’t want to inconvenience anyone that couldn’t afford it already. These people could. They had it all, he could tell just by looking around in the bathroom as he entered it.

Joe waltzed through the house. He made his way to the living room. He picked up small things here and there: tech, movies, a watch… He ran his finger along the surfaces and mahogany, at least he thought it was mahogany.

Joe slid a drawer open. It was full of knick-knacks and — bingo: a tablet! He grabbed it and slipped it into his backpack.

It was a strange place. He was so used to seeing pictures. Even a couple. There weren’t any. In fact, if there hadn’t been dishes in the sink and clothes in the dressers, he’d have sworn it was a model home.

He dug around more, he was determined to find some cash. That’d be sweet. The rich always had cash. The rich and the poor. The ones in between didn’t.

He moved on to a study. There was a filing cabinet. He’d found more than you’d expect in less, but it was worth a check. He popped it open. The front door did as well.

That wasn’t good.

It was time to go. He moved to the door. He listened. It sounded like one person. He went to the window. He hated being sloppy, but it’d be okay. They wouldn’t notice what he took. He pushed it open. It wouldn’t budge. He checked the latch. It was locked. At least they’d gotten one. He slipped it, but it wouldn’t move. He looked at it closer. It was screwed in and set. It was a fake.

A howl let out from the living room. It was loud and hollow like wind blowing over bottles. What the hell could that have been? He went back to the door. He slipped it open and looked out. He was clear.

He ran back out and down the hall to the bathroom. He went to the window. It was locked now. Did they know he was there? Probably. The howl screamed out again. It was louder. It sounded mad. He fumbled with the latch. It was bent. That couldn’t be good.

Now the hall was dark. They turned the lights off. That was odd. They always wanted to see him. Who was this person?

He looked out. Shit. They were there, but what the hell were they doing just standing in the middle of the room. It was creepy. Fucking creepy. He couldn’t see them clearly. It kind of looked like a woman. She was just looking around, only moving her head.

He pried the door open enough to let himself out. He’d bolt for it. She wouldn’t see his face if he kept his hood down. It wouldn’t be a problem at all.

The silhouette turned. He pulled his head back in. Did she see him? He listened for footsteps. They were going to come. They always did.

They weren’t. He listened longer. There was a clicking. Fuck, it felt like a game now. He needed out. That was it. He had to chance it. He peeked out. Whoever it was had moved. She was closer in the living room. He was certain he hadn’t heard her take a step. He didn’t care.

He ran. The figure turned, he could catch it in his peripheral. There was that howl again. It came from her.

Joe reached the door. He pulled on it. She screamed. It was deafening. The door was locked. Joe couldn’t afford to turn. He had to get out of this place.

She was closing in, but still in the darkness. He rattled the door, still not opening. He could feel the presence behind him. It sounded like a freight train now.

He kicked her back and sprinted toward what he guessed was the garage. It’d all gone to shit. He’d ruined it. It’d ruin his life. This was the last thing he ever wanted.

Wait, there was no fall. He heard the wailing howl again. He turned. The figure floating fast toward him. It didn’t have a face, just a black void swirling where it should have been.

He really wished he hadn’t climbed through that window.