I'm sitting alone out here. The living room windows are wide open behind me. I can hear crickets noises from outside.
I don't want to turn around.
Mama says there's nothing out there. Nothing stands outside in the yard. Nothing makes those odd noises.
But I don't want to turn around.
There's nothing behind me. There's nothing out the window. No faces. No children. Nothing is faceless and no matter how it looks, is not a child.
I still don't want to turn around, no matter what Mama is telling me.
I don't trust her voice at night. Especially when it comes from outside the living room windows (Source)

One of my classmates in grad school had an odd habit. Whenever he walked into an empty room, he'd whisper, "Excuse me." When I asked him why, he said it was a superstition in the country his parents had emigrated from. You were supposed to say that in case there was a ghost in the room. It was polite.
I recently relocated for a new job. On the day of my move, after cramming all my stuff into a U-Haul, I went back up to my apartment one last time to make sure I hadn't left anything behind. The place felt so empty, as if it had been abandoned for years. And without the music I usually had playing in the background as I went about my daily business, it was eerily quiet. More to break the silence than anything else, I whispered, "Excuse me."
A voice whispered back, "Don't worry about it." (Source)

Knock Knock!
Ugh who could it be! I looked at my phone. 11:37. I don’t think I’ve ever had someone at my door so late. Well not since college, but those years are behind me now. I got off the couch and made my way to the front of the house.
Knock Knock!
I started to get scared. Who could it be? I don’t have a gun or anything in case it’s a criminal. I look through the peep hole and see red and blue lights. I think it’s a cop. Not much better if you ask me.
“Hello Sir, sorry to bother you at such a late hour, but I wanted you to know that there has been a kidnapping in this neighborhood” “That’s terrible. Can I help in some way?”
”We just want to keep the parents informed. Best to stay alert in these trying times. It’s the third time in the past year. Have you checked on your kids tonight?”
How would he know I have I kids? “Sorry Sir but I live alone. Why did you think I had kids?”
”I’m in the neighborhood on patrol a lot. Thought I saw kids here before. Sorry for the misunderstanding, but now you know to be on the lookout.”
Something about this guy seemed off. “Do you not have a partner officer. Thought most cops worked in pairs.”
”That’s just for tv shows. Most of us work alone. Well I’ll get out of your hair sir. Again, sorry to bother you.”
“No problem. Enjoy your night officer.” Before I could close the door he grabbed the doorknob ”If you wouldn’t mind my asking, could you point me the houses around here where kids might live. Don’t want to bother any more single households.”
Now this guy was really giving off bad vibes. Something told me not to tell him, but on the off chance he was helping, I thought I should help. “The house next to mine on the right. And across the street with the two cars in the drive way. That’s all I know.”
”Thank you, that makes all of this easier on me.”
And like that the officer left.
Knock Knock!
Ugh. I checked my phone. 1:47. I was used to these knocks late at night, however. That’s because they didn’t come from my front door. It’s much better to store kids in the basement. That way the cops can’t hear them. (Source)

"What?"
"You heard what I said, get out!"
"But sir, I showed you my license and reg-"
"Step out of the vehicle, I won't ask again!"
"This is complete bullshit."

The man had no choice but to get out, whether the cop had a justifiable reason to command him or not. Compliance was key, and he had to remember that if he wanted to make it out of this safely. He saw the policeman reach for his weapon as he neared him, just before the officer grabbed him by his arm and dragged him away from the vehicle.

"I'm not armed, sir, just please calm down."
"Keep your mouth shut and get in the back."

The officer opened up the back door to his cruiser, but something felt odd to the man. He never read him his miranda rights, never handcuffed him or even tried to restrain him. He was initially going to run, until he witnessed the cop pulling the entire gun out of his holster this time. Afraid of dying so suddenly, and becoming just another part of a statistic, he raised his arms and quickly got into the car. The police officer stood by the door with the window rolled down, calling for backup almost immediately after.

"Officer, please, I'm already detained. I admit that I was aware my tail light was broken, but this is just excessive."
"The reason I pulled you over is unrelated to why I took you out of the car, son."
"I'm afraid I don't understand."

The policeman sighed, not taking his eyes off of the car he'd pulled over. With both hands on his gun, and his eyes unmoving, he whispered just loud enough for him to hear.

"I pulled you over because of the broken tail light. I took you out of the car to save you from the man with the knife I saw hiding in the back." (Source)

So this has happened to me more times than I’d like to admit, thus in many ways I’d consider myself somewhat of an expert on the subject. There are of course subtle differences involved depending on the layout of your bathroom, but I’ve tried my best to factor in all possible scenarios.

Try the door.
If, like me, you have a very sturdy door, this won’t do you much good. But try it anyway. It could just be a case of some rusty hinges, or perhaps something blocking it, so give it your best shot. Don’t try to kick it. You might end up slipping, potentially harming yourself (or worse yet; falling into the bathtub). Use your shoulder, and really put your hips into it.

Try the window.
If, like me, you’re stuck in a basement bathroom, this won’t do you much good. Either there aren’t any windows in the room, or they’re too small for you to climb through anyway, so you’ll just be wasting valuable time.

Call out for help / bang on doors/windows.
If, like me, you’re all alone in a ridiculously recluse area, this won’t do you much good. You’ll just be wasting your breath, and that’s the one resource you’re gonna need.

Pick the lock open / destroy the lock.
If, like me, you have an electronic lock, this won’t do you much good. Messing around with circuit boards and wires will just require you to expose your skin, and that’s the last thing you want.

Call a locksmith / Support for your installed lock.
This is for obvious reasons a last resort, but if, like me, you’re rapidly running out of oxygen, there’s simply no other choice.
Prepare for the arrival.

If, like me, you have a corpse dissolving in the bathtub, do your best to help the process along before the locksmith/support arrives. Fishing out larger pieces and flushing them down the toilet might be necessary, but try to avoid causing plumbing issues by fitting too many body parts down there at once.* (Source)

There’s a monster in Mommy’s belly. It grows bigger and bigger every day. I think if it gets much bigger, she’ll just go pop! Like a balloon that someone put too much air in.
She tells me that it’s not a monster, that it’s going to be a new little brother. That she won’t pop like a balloon, but she’ll go to the hospital one day and come back the next with a little baby. She says that daddy helped put the baby into her belly so it will grow big like me. Sometimes, when she lays down, I can see it moving. She says that’s what happens with all babies, and if daddy and I are really lucky, maybe we could put our hands on her belly and feel his little feet kicking.
Mommy says that I must be gentle when the new baby comes out of her belly, and not to touch him unless she or daddy is with me. She says that a little baby is as fragile as the ornaments that we hang on the Christmas tree. I guess I have to be careful around him or he will shatter into a billion little shiny pieces like that glass ball I dropped last year. And my hand would hurt and I would cry and cry until daddy gave me ice cream and snuggled me real tight.
Mommy says it’s my new little brother in her belly, but I know that it’s really a scary monster. I know that when it comes out of mommy’s belly it will have horns on its head and huge fangs and tentacles all over the place and it will make loud noises and try to hurt me.
I know that mommy thinks it’s just a little fragile glass ornament baby that daddy helped her put there to grow, but daddy told me that it’s a monster. Daddy says he didn’t put that monster in mommy’s belly, and I’d better be careful or it would gobble me up. Daddy says that he loves me very much, and he says that the monster is dangerous. He told me that I should take the sharp pointy knife from the kitchen drawer, the one I was never supposed to touch. He told me just this time that it would be okay for me to touch it, and that I should take it and stick it into mommy’s belly to save us from the monster.
I can see now that it isn’t a tentacley monster after all, just a normal baby like my dolls. I think I’ll like having a little brother. I just wish he wasn’t all red. If he had to be a color other than brown and stuff like me, I think I would like a green baby more than this sticky wet red one. Maybe when Mommy wakes up I will tell her to make the next one green. (Source)

It was a dark and stormy night, and I stood alone in the kitchen, overwhelmed with fear. I could hear her coming up the driveway. Even though I knew this moment would eventually come, I panicked.
I felt like running out of the back door, or even running towards her and begging for mercy.
But I panicked.
I grabbed a knife and ran upstairs. Every horror film teaches you that this is the worst mistake you can make. I ran into the bedroom and hid under the bed, clutching the knife against my chest and trying hard not to let my terrified, ragged breaths give me away.
Downstairs, I could hear the front door being pushed open and the sound of broken glass crunching against the floor as she walked towards the foot of the stairs.
Each stair creaked with morbid anticipation as she approached the landing. I covered my mouth with my free hand to stop myself from whimpering too loudly.
I heard the door of the room I was hiding in tentatively swing open and, with tears streaming down my face, I heard her footsteps get closer. And closer.
Then she stopped. I could tell she was looking around the room, trying to find me. I could hear her breathing intensify. She began to speak, in a voice that up to this moment had only ever been in my darkest dreams: "Is s-someone in here? I.. I've called the cops." Seizing the opportunity, I jumped out from under the bed and ran towards her, knife in hand.
My moment had finally come. (Source)

Love.
It’s such a wonderful thing.
I love her.
The way her hair tumbles past her shoulders when she unties her hair, the way her eyes sparkle when she’s happy. The way her voice rings out when she calls my name.
I love her.
I wish that I could tell her all of this,I wish she would know my true feelings.
That’s why it’s such a pity.
Such a pity that she hasn’t spotted me from outside the window yet. (Source)

My eyes flew open when a hand clamped over my mouth. “Don't move,” the man leaning over me commanded. A knife glimmered in the darkness.
A surge of fear jolted through me. Without thinking I thrust my hand upwards into his face and felt my palm meet his nose with a revolting crunch. When he howled in pain I hurled myself out of bed and dove into the adjoining bathroom. I slammed the door shut and turned its lock only seconds before he smashed into it.
“Get out of there!” he shouted. Heavy battering thuds shook the door.
“Take whatever you want and go!” I yelled back. “I won't call the police, I swear!”
He fell silent. I held my breath anxiously. For a fleeting moment I thought he was gone, only for my stomach to drop when I heard the sound of the knife's blade gouging into wood. I realized with horror that he was trying to carve his way through to me.
“Please stop,” I whimpered. “This isn't even my house. The Day family hired me to stay here while they're on vacation.”
Suddenly I was struck by the strong scent of rubbing alcohol. I looked down to see clear liquid spreading beneath the door and across the bathroom tiles.
“You have ten seconds to come out,” the man said threateningly, “or I light a match.”
A dizzying wave of terror washed over me. I gripped the sink to keep from falling.
“Ten!” he barked. “Nine!”
My eyes frantically searched the room for anything to defend myself with.
“Eight! Seven! Six!”
I felt as if I were being torn in half by an excruciating decision: accept whatever violent fate awaited me outside the door, or perish in a fiery blaze.
“Five! Four! Three!”
I flung open the door. The man raised his knife and I emptied the contents of a hairspray canister into his eyes.
He screamed in agony as I pushed past him and ran. I made it to the staircase before he grabbed me by the hair and threw me to the ground. His poisoned eyes were a furious shade of inflamed red.
“I'll kill you!” the man roared. He lifted a foot to stomp on my head, but his polluted vision slowed him and gave me enough time to deliver a swift kick to his knee. He lost his balance and stumbled backwards. By the time he realized he was falling, it was already too late; he plummeted down the stairs and landed in a bloodied, broken heap.
As I approached the man's crumpled body I noticed a small blinking light fastened to his chest. Confusion dawned on me when I realized he was wearing a camera.
I nearly jumped when his phone began vibrating in his pocket. Unknown Number.
I answered it silently. A hideous sense of shock overtook me when a familiar voice spoke into my ear.
“Is she dead yet?” Mr. Day asked excitedly. “I can't wait to see the footage.” (Source)