Round 1 Transcript

Jeane stands still in the front sitting room of her own home, listening to the silence after the sound of a back door closing. The house is supposed to be empty tonight but it clearly isn't anymore. She moves toward the lamp and her fingers close around its base, which is solid brass and heavy enough to do damage if swung properly. Her other hand reaches for the iron poker from the fireplace set, holding both weapons now: one in each hand. The room feels too exposed with its windows showing the dark woods outside. Jeane moves toward the narrow hallway that leads to the kitchen, her steps quiet on the wood floor, and stops when she sees the back door is slightly ajar now—a few inches open where it was closed before. She hears nothing from deeper in the house but knows someone is here. Her grip tightens on the lamp base and poker as she considers her options: call for help or investigate. She chooses investigation first because the phone line runs through the entire house and if someone cut it, she'd need to know where from. Jeane steps into the kitchen slowly, her back against the wall, and spots the landline phone on the counter across the room. She moves toward it carefully, eyes scanning every shadow, until she's close enough to grab the receiver. The line is dead—no dial tone. She tries to remember where she left her cell phone but can't think straight with the feeling of being watched. Jeane backs away from the kitchen and heads for the stairwell, climbing the steps two at a time with weapons ready.

She moves through the front sitting room like water, every muscle listening to the house. Cold air leaks under the windowsills. Rain sounds like fingernails on glass everywhere. The lamp's bulb burns too bright. She checks the brass base with her palm— heavy. She grips it tight and swings once, low, testing the weight. Then she hears it: a soft creak from the kitchen.