THEM

There was only one rule: Don’t open the door.

Just outside of it, Annie could hear shuffling steps and loud sniffing as they followed her scent.

She barely breathed as she tried to regulate her fear. She knew they would find her, but if she could stay quiet and still, she could survive.

She heard them shuffle to the closet door, their sniffing growing more curious, more hungry. They paused at the door, and the sniffing stopped.

Then she heard her father’s voice.

“Annie?” it whispered, “Annie? Is that you?”

She covered her mouth with her hand, “no,” she thought, “it’s them. They want a response. They want to get in.”

“Annie,” the voice crooned, “I’ve missed you.”

“It’s them,” She thought, “I know it’s them. It’s not him. But…”

“I’ve looked for you, Annie.” He said,

“No,” she thought, “I can’t let him in.”

She swallowed a sob and heard a faint, sorrowful sigh.

“I’ve never stopped looking for you,” He said, “Don’t be afraid. Come out. We can leave here together. Start over, together.”

She felt something creeping along her leg. She swallowed hard, resisting the urged to kick at it.

“No!” She thought, her heart pounding, “No response. No movement. I’m closed. I’m closed.”

“Annie!? ANNIE?!” The voice grew scared, and began hitting the door, “Help me, Annie! Let me in!”

She shut her eyes hard and tried to think of other things, of other places, anything but her fear and the tendril encircling her leg.

“ANNIE!” The voice shouted, thumping on the door and rattling the knob, “OPEN UP ANNIE! HELP ME!”

Overwhelmed, she shouted, “I’M CLOSED!” then slumped to the floor, sobbing.

“Oh, sweet Annie,” they said as the door gently opened, “I knew you’d open up to me.”