Sammy scratched at the bedroom door. Allison’s right eye woke to the sound.
“Now, Sammy? You want to go out now?”
The 10 pound Yorkie answered with another double swipe of its paws on the door.
Without an alternative, because throwing her pillow at the pooch probably wasn’t one, she pulled herself up and out of the bed. The floor was ice cold under her feet, and she moved them quick along the tile floor.
After opening the door, she glanced quickly at the red numbers starting at her from her bed table. Midnight.
“Sammy it’s the bewitching hour. You better be careful or I’ll be bee-etching at you.” She smiled at her cleverness even while half asleep.
She turned the light on in the hall, and felt the cold hit her full on. She quickly strode towards the front door and was stunned to find it fully open and Sammy running into the darkness, yipping as he made his way to freedom.
Allison felt frozen, and not just from the cold. Who was in her house and were they still there. Her phone was in her bedroom. Her purse and car keys, also in her bedroom. Fear made her have to pee so bad she thought she’d let loose right there. Her sneakers kicked off by the front door earlier felt to her like a directing cue. She should run. And run she did, right into a wall–well, it wasn’t really a wall. It was a man that was twice her weight and a build that felt like bricks to her 105 pound frame.
(To be continued)