"Laymon Richard - No Sanctuary" - читать интересную книгу автора (Laymon Richard)

Turning her head, Rhonda could see out with one eye. She watched
the bottom of the doorway.

Calm down, she told herself.

Oh, sure thing.

Want him to hear your damn heart drumming?

She let go of her legs, rested her hands on the carpet, and
concentrated on letting her muscles relax. She filled her lungs
slowly and let the air out.

Calm, she thought. You're not even here. You're lying on a
beach. You're at the lake, stretched out on a towel. You can hear
the waves lapping in, kids squealing and laughing. You can feel
the sun and the breeze on your skin. You're wearing your white
bikini.

You're naked.

Her stomach twisted.

You're naked and hiding under a bed and somebody's in the
goddamn house.

She suddenly felt trapped. Though the bed didn't touch her, it
seemed to be pressing down, smothering her. She struggled for
breath. She wanted out. She ached to squirm free, scurry to her
feet and make a dash for safety.

Calm down. He doesn't know you're here.

Maybe he does.

The pale beam of a flashlight danced through the darkness beyond
the bedroom door. Rhonda glimpsed it. Then it was gone. She held
her breath and stared through the gap, waiting. The beam scrawled
a quick curlicue, darted high and vanished again.

He'll come in soon, Rhonda thought. He'll find me. God, why
didn't I make a run for it when the window broke?

Why didn't I go with Mom and Dad to Aunt Betty's?

She forced herself to take a breath.

The beam of the flashlight slanted through the doorway, swept
toward Rhonda and up.