The door clicked open, and Jill's heart raced, her eyes darting up in fearful hope—that quickly crashed as the door slammed shut again.

Somehow, she just knew it had not slammed shut [I]behind[/I] anyone. She was still alone in here, with something scary enough for her rescuer to have instantly changed his mind.

Under other circumstances, she might have weighed the risks and taken her chances—she was damn fast, when she needed to be—but she still had the scars to remind her why it was usually a good idea to keep a wall between yourself and anything that walked on all fours and was bigger than you.

She scrabbled for the cell phone in her back pocket, no longer worried about some emergency dispatcher writing her off as crazy. She would take any heat if someone would just come and get her out of here.

There was a desperate fumble, the feel of a plastic case slipping through her fingers, and a small [I]crack[/I] as it hit the floor.

Jill almost lost her footing and had to make another grab for the walls as one tennis shoe slid and nearly went into the toilet. [I]"Shit!"[/i]