Whenever Rose was in the shower, the dog started to bark.
Not the random bored bark to see if any other dogs were lying around with nothing better to do. Not the I want to eat that squirrel whiny bark that Rose found so irritating. But more of the there is someone too close to my house and it is making me uncomfortable bark. And every time, her heart stopped for a fraction of a second.
Today would be different from the previous days. Today she would not clutch a towel to her wet, naked body and creep out to the den only to find her dog grinning stupidly at her. Today she would leave that trail of water droplets all the way to the front door and find a large man entering her house. Today she would confront a stranger with nothing but evil in his heart. Today she would die while the dog watched, barking from a safe distance.
Rose grabbed her towel from the hook and draped it loosely around her. The dog was barking more frantically now. She breathed in the hot, steamy air from the shower, then slowly twisted the knob. Her heart was hammering in her chest. She left her wet footprints behind as she made her way down the hall and around the corner. The dog let out a little whine. She had no weapon to fight with. No phone to call the police. Not even a shred of clothing to protect her body.
She couldn't hear the dog now. Was it injured? Dead? She turned into the den, noticed the doors were closed, the windows intact. The dog smiled at her and laid down to nap on the stairs.
Damn dog.
