Round 7 Transcript

I press myself against the kitchen counter, the lamp base held ready, my ears straining over the drumming rain. The house feels wrong—too quiet after that creak in the hall. The back door is right here but it's an escape route, not a solution. If she comes through that front room, I'm trapped between her and the exit. And if I run outside into that dark woods, I'm just a target in the open.

The sound came from the hall again—definitely a floorboard groaning under weight, closer this time than before. No question now: someone else is in the house. The lamp on the side table feels solid in my hand, heavy base. Rain outside makes the window glass shake, but that sound came from inside. Move quietly toward the kitchen door. Barricade it first—chair under the knob, something heavy against it. The narrow hallway stretches dark ahead, too open, too exposed. Shoulders tense, breath shallow. The house feels smaller suddenly, tighter, every shadow a possibility.