Round 6

Jeane's vision blurred around the edges as she pressed herself against the chair frame, trying to make herself smaller. The wound in her shoulder pulsed with every heartbeat, blood seeping through her fingers despite her best efforts to staunch the flow. She could hear the intruder moving downstairs now—footsteps on hardwood floors, the creak of a door opening and closing as they searched each room methodically.

The rain outside continued its steady drumming against the windows, masking any sound she might make if she tried to move. The house felt suddenly too small, too exposed—the open windows showed only darkness and sheets of water sliding down glass. Her keys were still on their hook by the front door, uselessly close but completely out of reach.

She needed to stop the bleeding, needed something to apply pressure—her mind raced through options while her body screamed for attention. The guest bedroom upstairs wasn't far; she could make it if she moved fast enough. But that meant leaving this relatively safe hiding spot and exposing herself in the open hallway...

The Force moved through the house with practiced silence, gun held ready as she followed the trail of blood drops leading away from the kitchen. This was taking too long—Jeane had to be close now, injured and panicking somewhere nearby. The stairs loomed ahead, dark and empty but clearly used recently; disturbed dust motes still hung in the air.

She ascended slowly, step by careful step, gun trained on each new angle as it came into view. At the top waited a short hallway with two doors—one open to a bathroom, one closed to what looked like a guest bedroom. The blood trail led straight toward that second door.

Jeane's shoulder wound screamed fresh agony when she shifted her weight again, hot and wet against her palm where she pressed it desperately. She couldn't stay here forever—every second counted as blood pumped out of her body in slow pulses. The chair offered some cover but no solution; she needed bandaging, needed to stop the bleeding before she passed out.

The guest bedroom closet stood ten feet away—a dark rectangle in the wall that promised concealment if she could just reach it. Hide there while she worked on her injury, buy herself time to think. But moving meant exposing herself in the open hallway, and the footsteps downstairs were getting closer now...

She forced herself upright using the chair back for leverage, vision swimming as she stumbled toward the closet door. Every step sent fresh waves of pain through her torso but she pushed forward anyway—reach the frame, pull the door closed behind her, collapse inside the darkness.

The Force reached the top of the stairs just as she heard a thud from down the hallway. She moved quickly toward the source of the sound—a guest bedroom with its door partially open. Inside, she could make out a figure slumped against a closet door in the corner.

"Jeane?" The Force called out softly, lowering her gun slightly but keeping it ready. "Are you okay? I'm not here to hurt you—let me help."

The rain outside continued its steady rhythm as darkness pressed in from every side of the isolated house deep in the woods.