Scrittura Magazine
half in shadow, stood a figure. A woman. Long dark hair dripped down either side of her face like oil, and what Nicole had first thought was a lanyard was swinging from her neck. Except now Nicole could see that it wasn’t a lanyard at all. It was a thin nylon cord, a rope. The woman locked eyes with her and began to move forwards, coming towards Nicole at a horrible speed. Nicole’s fingers clawed at the latch, twisting the lock open, but the door wouldn’t move. She pulled at the door handle; one, two, three, and then remembered she had turned the key in the main lock as well. Just as her father had always done, as her ex had done. That had been part of the problem, the police had said, all those years ago. They’d tried to kick the door in to cut the woman down in time, but there was more than one lock and it had taken too long. She’d never had a chance.
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