The hidden truth of Number 11. (I am number four)

Chapter 4

I lay across my comfortable-looking bed. It’s a small single bed but it will do for the night. The sun was setting so it was a good idea to take a break. I really shouldn't have left close to dusk. 

The room I'm in is quite small. The plaster and paint on the walls is pealing, there’s bits of rubble scattered across the floor close to the wall. The floor is concrete but it has a big red rug spread across the centre. 

As I slowly start to fall asleep I hear mumbles beyond my door. Waking me from my half asleep state. I don't think much of it at first, they're probably heading off to bed. BED! This is probably one of their rooms. Crap!

There's no place to hide, the doors bolted shut but that'll be extremely suspicious. Plus they'll find a way in, whether they bash the door down or just pick the weak lock that's used to lock the door. I have to think of something. 

I quietly manoeuvre my head up, trying to make as little noise as possible. I look around, making out the furniture in the room. 

A small dresser - definitely can't use that. A table with two chairs - poorly taken care of, if I may add. A dart board with a picture of a man I don't know and multiple knives in it....wait....knives!

I'm starting to get a bad feeling about this. I hear a loud crashing body thump against the door. 

"WHO LOCKED MY DOOR?" I hear a threatening man yell ferociously. Jees… He sounds well-built. And angry. 

I hear another thump on the door and start to panic. Somewhere to hide. Somewhere to hide. I look around the room, hectic. I see nothing. Nowhere. 

Another bang, followed by several more. This is not going to be a good night. I jump off the bed so quick all the sheets follow me. I chuck them back on quickly; make the bed a little neater. 

Then all of a sudden the door breaks. I drop to the floor as quick as lightening. All I see are the man’s feet. And let me tell you, they are huge. I roll my figure under the bed so that he can't see me. 

The man grumpily stomps over towards the bed and collapses onto it. I hear him mumbling different sentences but all I can make out are 'stupid' and 'lock'. His dead weight lags the underside of the bed. It's almost sitting atop of me. 

This is going to be an interesting night. He's snoring as loud as a truck, and I don't have a clue how I'm going to get out.