An Unlocked Door by Lisa
He’s not locked the door.
Maybe he never has, we all stare at it wearing the same expression- an odd, hopeful scared face. None of us want to make the first move because what if it’s a trick. It has to be. He didn’t answer when I‘d asked if we could leave the basement.
Why has he got us here anyway?
Where are we?
I notice a movement behind the crack in the door panel. He’s there watching, waiting. I mouth this to the others and we sit wide eyed and rigid.
Things were better when the door was locked.