He's a Lucky Man

She draped her arms around the back of my neck as we kissed and it was apparent that this was going somewhere when she gazed up at me with her hazel brown eyes and told me her name was Charlotte. I said nothing in return, I only lifted my head back to lock eyes with hers and charmingly pitch the notion of taking her to my place. She softly batted her eyelashes over her hazel browns in a nod of agreement. Then she unlocked her fingers and reached for my hand, accepting my offer in suggestion that I lead her outside to my car.
A short walk outside and I signal for the valet to go pull my car around. He rushed with an added sense of urgency as I'd expected, seeing as I'd stuffed his wallet with cash on the way in as insurance for taking extra care of my bright orange Lamborghini.
Once he'd retrieved it, I couldn't tell whether the spotless orange paint of the passenger seat door that he held open for Charlotte glistened more or less than the gleam in her eyes as she gazed at it like the twinkling tree lights on Christmas morning. I gave the valet a friendly pat on the shoulder in passing and then impressively sped off.
When we pulled up to my house, she painted a look of surprise and excitement towards the curb appeal of my six-bedroom, two-story manor, to which I spared no bell or whistle, from the trim to the chandelier, both visible from the sections of over-sized window panels bulging outward from the well-lit living room.
She smiled at me, looking as if she felt she were about to climb to the top of the Eiffel tower and bathe in the view from atop its towering height. I kept silent and humbly smirked at her impressed reaction as I walked around to open the door for her.
Once inside, she quickly navigated me to the master bedroom, pulling me up the stairs and down the hall with such confidence that almost made me feel as if she had been there before. But there was no chance of that, as I'd only just met her no more than two hours ago. I gladly followed, struggling to remove my tie one-handed as we stumbled down the hall.
She released my hand from her grip just beyond the threshold of the bedroom door and then twisted herself around and began backing away both slowly and seductively towards my California king-sized bed. But don't worry, I won't bore you with the (exciting) details, you all know where this is going...
After what I would guess was about forty or so minutes later, I heard a loud but distant thud coming from somewhere outside. It was a prominent sound but neither of us paid any mind to its faint distraction. So much so that I soon thought I was just hearing things. It wasn't until the second loud thud that I grew alert to the noise. This time it was significantly louder though, sounding more like a hit against the front door. The depth of the noise was heavy enough and close enough to strike a sudden sense of concern.
I rose from the bed and tediously dabbed the sweat from my chest and neck while my focus fixed onto the wall. I became adamantly still to listen in anticipation of another unexpected noise, raising my finger to my mouth to shush Charlotte before she uttered something that would break my concentration.
Whether it was due to my heightened attention or if whatever had been making the sound was truly drawing closer, I heard the thud repeat once more. Except this time it sounded far more threatening, with an echoing smash hit that I would swear was my front door breaking apart and crumbling inward.
We both jumped in fright to the eruption of what I pictured in my head to be large splintering wood chunks flying into the foyer from across the house. I turned to Charlotte, still sprawled out on the bed, but laid up against her forearms, and realized that she clearly had a much better idea of what was actually making these noises, judging by the pale look of shock cemented onto her face.
The sound of heavy boots slamming onto each step of the winding staircase filled the silence like the melody of a pounding war drum on the edge of a smoking battlefield. Each slam was louder than the last, as whatever was climbing up to the second story ascended nearer.
===== THUD... =====
==== THUD... ====
=== THUD... ===
I stood frozen, just as she did from on the bed, flinching at the steady sound that shook the house enough to rattle the empty pair of wine glasses left out on the nightstand. I turned to face the door as if expecting it to crash towards me, hinges and all. 
Then with a panicked dance of finger-snapping and flailed-arm waving, Charlotte quietly demanded my attention. I looked over to see her mouthing a repeated phrase to me with exaggerated jaw movements to place more emphasis on her words. The short few words that nearly escaped her lips through the look of dread pouring out of her hazel brown eyes were all I needed to see to know what was going on. 
She mouthed "You need to hide", followed by a glance towards the door, now pounding from the vibrating steps outside the room, "Now!" she demanded in a hushed whisper. 
Another loud thud reverberated in through the bedroom. 
Although my mind didn't get the time it needed to process the situation, I knew that I had to act quickly, and so I darted for the only thing in the room big enough to hide in, an antique, single-piece wardrobe, with elaborate carvings surrounding its surface.
I climbed inside, followed by Charlotte hopping out of bed to swing the thick wooden doors shut in front of me, sealing me in darkness with a reassuring click as the two doors latched together.
Then everything went dark.
The repetition of stomping footsteps became muffled to my ears from inside, as I sunk into a packed row of tailor-fitted dress suits. My only line of visibility shone dimly through the thin gap between the dense wardrobe doors, which revealed just enough for me to see a blurry strip of Charlotte's outline standing near the door. I couldn't see much of anything, let alone her expression, but I can only imagine the fear she felt from whatever it was that had finally reached the top of the staircase. Her anxiety was heavy in the room. I could feel it.
The air wasn't silent for more than five seconds before the door was blistered by the impact of a blunt force, like a hammer pounded against a two-by-four. I took one deep gasp in preparation of controlling my breath when a voice blared through the door.
"Charlotte!" the male voice screamed aggressively, "I know you're in there! Open the goddamn door!"
Without responding, Charlotte almost instantly bolted for the window and slid it open, causing the double-layered curtains to flap aimlessly in the wind as it danced its way into the room. She didn't so much as glance outside before hustling back towards the door. I had no clue what she why she would do that, but I didn't have time to wonder, as I turned just about all my mental focus onto my own controlled breathing. Actively stretching out my chest to catch enough air in my lungs that silent breath could be made possible.
The pounding turned violent, causing Charlotte to shriek in fear at each hit, it was obvious that the door wouldn't be able to withstand much more of a beating. So she did the only thing I imagine she could think to do;
She opened the door.
"Rick, I'm sorry!" she cried out as she backed away from the now open door. But her words were cut off by the deep, raspy voice of the man approaching her.
"You lied to me!" he screamed at her, smacking the door further open, then slamming it into the wall as he entered the room.
"I'm sorry--Rick--I--" she started to say, but was again cut off.
"I don't wanna hear it!" he said, pacing around the center of the room and darting his head back and forth frantically. "Where is he?!" he demanded.
Charlotte was startled at his every word, flinching each time he spoke.
"He--he's gone..." she said, daring to sneak a moment of direct eye contact, but immediately turning away after seeing the angry look he returned. "He heard ya' comin', Rick. Ya' scared him so bad that he jumped out the w--window..."
She pointed at the open window without turning her body to face it, curling her pointing finger below her crossed arms in its direction. My hands began to sweat as the man scanned the room, hesitant to believe Charlotte's lie.
He stormed over to the window and hung himself half outside, surely hoping to catch someone running off in the distance. But of course he didn't see anyone, which only made him angrier. He turned to face Charlotte and stepped heavily towards her, his animal-like huffing steaming in her personal space.
He didn't say anything at first, looking as if he was searching his brain for the most menacing words he could say. I angled my head to see Charlotte's face through the slit between the doors. Her defeated expression was just as I'd expected to see, based on the man's dominating stance in front of her.
"He's a lucky man..." he eventually growled at her in a low, threatening tone.
Though, I could safely say that I wasn't feeling very lucky, especially not while hiding inside the furniture of my own bedroom. In fact, my luck seemed to only last for about forty minutes altogether since I met Charlotte.
So if luck has anything to do with it, it's definitely not on my side.
In the slim gap of the wardrobe doors I could barely make out the sight of Charlotte cowering in front of the man who towered over her like a stern dog owner scolding their pet for chewing up the couch cushion. All the while, I'm cringing to hold my breath as best I could. It took me tightly cupping my mouth with my hands to keep my hyperventilating from being overheard. Each exhale I staggered out felt more difficult and forced than the last.
I suffered in silence while the two argued for the next several minutes, with the man growing angrier at each of Charlotte's defensive responses. At this point, it was less of an argument and more of a one-sided attack by the time the topic shifted to anything that could help me figure out what I was actually witnessing, and when it did, it was pretty much exactly what I expected...
Supposedly, this man was Charlotte's boyfriend, Rick, and he was under the impression that she would be with her friends for the entire night. Which was true and I'm sure were her intentions, that is up until the point I confidently approached her with not only my self-serving motives, but also holding two brightly-colored mixed drinks. After that her friends weren't part of the conversation for long before I'd charmingly pulled Charlotte aside. 
Though I'd apparently shared enough for them to be able to tell Rick about the "well dressed man bragging about his new house in the fancy Alexandria development in the hills" upon him questioning them.
But I must say, the part that frustrated me the most was the very same valet that I tipped into the next working class up, who was all too willing to share every detail of my flashy orange car. Giving Rick all that he needed to lead him straight here.
Guess you can't buy loyalty, I thought to myself in disgusted judgment.
As I stood motionless, each breath was more exasperated than the last. The air inside the wardrobe circulated into a stuffy cloud of carbon dioxide, while remaining silent became more difficult to maintain. My spine starting to ache from the slouched position the short stature of the wardrobe forced me into. I could feel the beads of sweat purged from my skin by the agonizing concentration and prolonged discomfort, my body straining on the collective structure of my bones.
But the pain that I silently endured was dwarfed by the overwhelming fear of Rick finding me while in the climax of his rage. There's really no telling what a steamed knuckle-dragger like him would do to a guy like me after seeing the way he treated his girlfriend, who was now lying on the floor at the foot of the bed, curled into a fetal position in defense of Rick's verbal attack. He was placing so much intensity into his ego-boosting insults that I could almost see Charlotte's mental bubble popping as he broke down her ever-shrinking personal space.
Then, just when I thought my legs couldn't bare to stand in the crook of my painfully shaking knees any longer, Rick grabbed Charlotte by her arm and forcefully pulled her up onto her feet, grunting at her as if he felt insulted by her unwillingness to move.
"We're leaving," he sternly told her as he shoved her through the door, unknowingly allowing her a split second glance over towards the wardrobe I stood hunched inside.
The look she gave me on her way out was that of a low remorse, darkening her glazed over hazel brown eyes as she passed by my narrow strip of visibility, followed by Rick's security guard stagger out of the room.
I couldn't help but feel a sense of relief after the fear of Charlotte's safety had embarrassingly faded from my thoughts. But I still wasn't willing to risk making any sound until I was sure that they had left. So I continued to power through the struggle of my shaking knees and wallowing back while I listened for any sign of movement in the house through the muffled wardrobe walls.
...........
There were no more stomping footsteps, no slamming doors, no sound at all from anywhere in the house was reaching my ears, and after several hour long minutes, I finally felt safe enough to move. So I let out a dramatic exhale, followed by a deep inhale loudly flooding my lungs. My breath blew back into my face off the wardrobe doors that stood only inches in front of me. Then I satisfyingly loosened up my stance with a stretched-out wiggle and then lifted up my sore arms to push open the thick wooden doors. I pressed my palms against the inner surface and pushed out with all the strength I could muster. Only to be stopped short by the doors almost complete unwillingness to budge, braced by a metal clatter that clanked like a railroad stake hitting an anvil.
I suddenly felt every bone in my body go weak as my knees began shaking uncontrollably. The pain I felt was now utterly defeating as I stood awkwardly in the dark and stuffy space I'd been confined to. I squeezed my eyes tight and slammed my head against the doors, insulted by the metal clank that the impact returned, firmly holding the locked doors in place from just on the other side of the wardrobe.
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