Safely behind bars
A short story by Kai Lossgott

The door closes with the first few words. The curtain closes too. Just in case. Safety enters like a god, and he begins to breathe again.

"I am home," he whispers, but a creak behind the door traps him, and his heart is racing. So he locks the door. Instantly he wonders why he did it.

He switches on the heater. He thinks of bacon in the fridge. He wonders what's on TV. Maybe he should go to sleep. But he won't sleep. Even if he locks the door. When night falls he is left alone with his thoughts and with those sounds.

Yesterday he was certain they were there, outside the house. He could not see them, but he heard them in half-slumber, as if the weak points of the house were tested one by one. Then, in a sharp bark on the edge between fear and attack, the dog woke him. He sat up straight. His heart was nauseous. With stiff legs he marched around the house. He turned on all the lights outside. He turned off all the lights inside. He made his voice a masculine growl speaking to the dog.

There was noone in the car. There was noone in the garden. But as soon as he returned to the house, the hoises started again. So he stared into the dark. No-one came. What he'd do to defend himself, heaven only knew.

"Being afraid is entertainment keeping you from real problems." He wants to blame it on his country, on years ago watching the door handle move after waking up quietly, quite by chance. The girls were screaming low like animals. The key wasn't stuck in the lock.
He was. He never saw the man with the knife. He wanted to blame him. But blame is the coward's answer to terror.

What if the man with the knife returned, what if his door was unlocked like her door was that night. What she did to defend herself, heaven only knew.

Enough. When will you stop? Leave the door unlocked. What if you wake up? I don't know... No, don't think how many years, or how often you have tried. Leave the door unlocked. Just for tonight. For sanity.

He tries to see the moon and not the darkness all around it. The newspaper is full of stories of terrorists and men with beards. But for months it has only been him and the night, and those sounds in his head.