Round 7

As Jeane pressed herself against the kitchen counter, the lamp base held ready, her ears strained over the drumming rain, the house felt wrong - too quiet after that creak in the hall. The back door, a potential escape route, seemed an inadequate solution to the growing unease. The Force moved quietly toward the kitchen door, her hand grasping the solid brass lamp, its heavy base reassuring in her palm.

The sound came from the hall again, a floorboard groaning under weight, closer this time than before. No question now: someone else was in the house. Jeane's eyes darted to the narrow hallway ahead, the darkness seeming to swallow it whole. The Force's shoulders tensed, breath catching in her throat as she considered barricading the kitchen door - a chair under the knob, something heavy against it - to block any potential escape routes.