Sandry looked up at the window. It probably wasn't too high, if she could find something to stand on. Plus, there was a trellis with ivy growing up the wall right there, she felt confident it would be an easy climb.
Sandry spotted a concrete planter at the corner of the house, the plant inside long dead and dried up. She grabbed the planter and heaved, concrete scraped the path, as she tugged it into place under the window. That would give her an extra foot and a half.
Sandry stepped up onto it. Her feet, aching from the run through the streets, sank into the soft soil inside. Sandry reached straight up, and could just about touch the window sill. Not enough to pull herself up, though.
She got her fingers in the trellis, then a foot. She pulled herself up, soft damp ivy leaves cold against her body. Sandry put her full weight in the trellis, praying that it could take her. She moved up. And again. Now she was closer to the window.
Sandry reached to the side, she got one arm on the window sill, her hand inside the partially-open window, seeking something to hold.
She felt a shifting under her foot, heard a cracking noise. Hurrying, Sandry got her other arm on the sill, although she still had not got a solid grip through the window.
With another cracking, the trellis came away from the wall and crashed to the ground. Now Sandry was hanging, legs dangling in the air with nothing to brace against, held up only my her arms on the sill.
Her buttocks jiggled madly as she tried to find some way to move further up or inside, but there was nothing.
She suddenly heard a siren whoop from the road behind her, and car doors opening and closing.
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