Rat almost died when the cough sounded behind her, darting out into what she thought was the outside world, and instead ending up flailing forward, one foot inside a metal mop bucket, head knocking into a shelf.

A moment later two hands tried to grab her, and she slapped away at them, kicking the bucket towards the attacker and trying to get deeper inside the cupboard.

Shit shit shit, she was caught.

She hissed, like a cat, turning over to face whoever was coming for her, and the figure backed off, arms up in front of themselves. Good, make them scared, Rat. You can get outta here. You can make it.

She finally managed to get her foot out of the bucket, kicking it at him and making a terrible racket.

"Whoa!" he shouted, taking another step backwards, before lowering his arms and reaching to pick up the bucket. "No need for-"

She slammed into his legs, and a moment later was past him, making for the door she had seen before. Her rucksack was under one arm and she had scraped up her ankle in the scuffle, but she would be safe soon.

Her bare feet skidded across the floor, but she managed to stay up as she ran, keeping her centre of gravity low and grabbing something from one of the tables as she passed, hurling it behind her to slow him down.

There was a crash of breaking glass as the object hit the floor, followed by swearing from her attacker, and then she was out, slipping into the kitchen and slamming the door behind her. A hurried glance showed that it didn't have a lock or bar she could throw, but it would hold him off for a moment.

She took a deep breath and spared a moment to look around the kitchen. It was as she remembered it, if a little tidier. Stone flag floor and expensive stove, lit by a hanging lamp. What was new was the woman sitting at the table, a bowl in front of her and a spoon half raised to her lips.

"What-" she started to say, but Rat was already rushing towards the outside-door, throwing open the bolts, bracing herself for the weather.

Somewhere behind her, in the dark room, there was another loud crash, and the swearing got louder.

The woman at the table placed her spoon down, looking between her and the living room, as Rat struggled with the bolts. She had managed to get the first one open, but it hadn't opened the door, merely unshackled it from the… Why was this door in two parts anyway, what even was the point?

She hissed again, quieter this time, crouching small and flattening her back to the locked door, staring around with wide eyes. There was another exit off to the left, but she knew from before that it only led to a pantry. She hadn't really investigated to the right the last time she was here, but she thought there might be a cellar that way, as well as stairs up. Cellars in fancy old places like this always had exits, right?

The woman at the table pushed her chair back, her features and expression indistinguishable in the archaic light.

"You're awake then," she said as she stood, hesitating a moment, before heading towards the door to the sitting room. "What did you do to Shim?"

The stream of curses grew louder as the door was opened, and the woman stuck her head inside. "You alright in there mate?"

This was it, the right time to either flee or try the lock again, but a sudden wave of exhaustion crashed over her, the adrenaline leaving her system all at once.

She hadn't realised until this moment- until seeing the untouched food, the light and the warm stove- she hadn't realised just how very tired she was.

The floor was cold beneath her, and she found herself on the flags. When had she sat down?

A shadow loomed over her, and she stared up, not really seeing. Had somebody made the lamp brighter?

"Here-" the woman knelt before her, gently pressing a bowl into her hands. "We don't know where you've come from, ya little mite, but you're too damn skinny."

Rat stared down at it, feeling the warmth soak into her hands, contrasting with just how cold the rest of her was, and a moment later she started to shiver.

"C'mon," with slow movements, the woman took the bowl away again, and Rat resented her for it immediately, tightening her eyes and preparing to fight, but the woman shook her head.

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"C'mon, with me, you'll get it back in a moment. Can't have you freezin' to death by the door though, we ain't managed to get the draught excluders up yet."

She went to place the food on the table but hesitated as she saw the man from before, his foot taking centre stage, exactly where she wanted to put the soup.

"You're getting blood all over the table, lad," she sighed, "Can't you- you're gonna scare the kid. Get your bloody foot down you animal."

"Gimme a minute, gimme a minute," he was tearing something, tape maybe, "I'm gonna have to go fire up the big lamp and wash up before the blood soaks into the floor. After we just made it all nice too!"

He shot Rat a glare and she shrank back, she hadn't meant to hurt him, she just…

She could leave, she could go right now and then she'd be out of their hair and they wouldn't have to bother with her.

She bit her lip, resisting the urge to speak. Stay quiet, stay small, take long, deep breaths and say nothing. You can get out of here. It's gonna be fine.

Deep breaths.

He took a second to finish applying the bandage, before, with a pained expression he put it on the floor, looking around for a cloth to wipe the table with. "I'll fix it up, get the kid a chair."

She realised with a start that he was probably only three or four years older than her, the age of the teenagers who used to hang around the… The…

She sank back to the floor, holding her head in her knees, trying to fight back the pain. A moment later there was a concerned noise, and somebody was picking her up!

She struggled through it, sinking her teeth into their arm, and a moment later she was free once again, skidding across the smooth wooden floor of the living room and towards the couch.

"Watch out, there's glass!" the boy shouted, and she adjusted her trajectory, narrowly avoiding doing herself an injury.

The couch was raised up on stick legs, and if she could wedge herself under it, hide until they…

Rat considered, as she skidded across the floor on all fours, that maybe her brain wasn't working quite right. She should be sensible and calm, ingratiate them, try talking, asking to be let go. She was simply in the wrong place, at the wrong time.

It had worked in the past.

She would find another arch to sleep under, another cellar.

She jammed herself under the sofa, cutting open her arm on a fleck of broken glass, but barely feeling it, only noticing the streak of darkness across the floor.

And then, silence. Blessed silence, the only noise the patter of the rain against the windows. They had shut the door to the kitchen, and a face looked through at one point, but nobody attempted to pursue her. She was simply left alone, in silence.

There was a creak of floorboards from above, and the quiet crackle of the woodstove off to the side. She wondered if they had gone to bed, it was still dark out after all.

Rat curled up under the sofa, watching the door and wishing she'd gotten a chance to eat the soup. It was so warm in her hands, why had she run…

-

Outside, a cockerel crowed, and she heard the footsteps pause for an instant. What little she could hear of the conversation from the kitchen was getting louder, the tone more worried. There was no laughter now, but it was still undertaken at a four-am volume.

A creak from stairs hidden somewhere off the kitchen, and the light coming from under the door brightened as more lamps and candles were lit.

"Are you in there?" asked a woman's voice from the doorway, not the same one who had spoken before. The woman before had a deep accent, but this was was clipped, more southern, old money.

Rat stayed quiet where she was, taking deep, silent breaths. If they couldn't see her, they might assume she had left.

She had lost her blanket during the fight.

There was an exaggerated sigh from the doorway.

"You didn't cut yourself, did you?" the voice asked, "you better not be bleeding all over my couch.

A hesitation.

"Or do, I don't care, I never liked it anyway."

There was quiet laughter from behind her and words spoken too softly for Rat to make out, and then the room brightened as a light was carried in, a candle, maybe?

"There should be a brush in the cupboard," the new woman spoke, and Rat shrank back deeper under the sofa, away from the approaching light.

"Come outta there, child," she said, before kneeling down with a groan. "I swore when we last had to move this thing that I was done moving furniture, so please don't make me bring in the lad to lift it up. Please?"

She extended a hand, and Rat resisted the urge to snap at it, but the hand was quickly drawn back, the blood Rat had left on the floor coating her fingertips.

A sigh, quieter and more genuine than the one from before.

"Come on out, little one, we're not gonna hurt you. I promise."

Rat held her breath. Deep, slow breaths. They didn't know she was here.

There was silence for a while as the woman got up, then footsteps, and all of a sudden the weight of the couch was lifted off her back.

Rat tried to run, but there were already strong arms holding her up, her feet weren't touching the floor, and they weren't in biting range this time.

With vivid clarity, she remembered the first time the social worker had approached her, and how she had panicked. She had ended up leaving everything behind and climbing up a wall, fleeing across the rooftops.

She didn't remember how she'd done it, but her fingers had been raw and bloody afterwards, and when she went back, the wall was over three times her height.

He had never tried to approach her like that again, instead relying on throwing gifts at her and getting out before she had a chance to run.

She knew from his letters that he had been pretty freaked out about it, and that there had been blood on the wall afterwards. He didn't say he was freaked out, of course, but it was there in the subtext, and his next three packages had all contained antiseptic sprays, bandages, gauze and plasters. She didn't have the heart or willing to tell him that she had nowhere to store that stuff.

She thought about those rolls of bandages, as she struggled to escape being dragged across the room. She had ended up wrapping it all in carrier bags and tape, leaving it stored under an abandoned commercial bin. An emergency first aid kit, should she ever need it.

She wondered if it was still there, or if the rats had gotten to it yet. She would never find out.