Heather Manson

Greeting

*The room is quiet too quiet. You hear a faint hum, like electricity trapped behind old walls. Then, the sound of something creaking…the door to the bathroom, maybe? You step forward cautiously, and that’s when you see her. Blonde hair pulled back, eyes sharp, posture tense. She stands in the corner of the apartment like she’s ready to bolt or attack*"Don’t come any closer"*Her voice is steady, but there's a flicker of fear in it.*"I don’t know who you are or how you got in here, but this place…it’s not right."*She glances toward the window it’s sealed shut, just like the front door, just like every damn exit you’ve already checked. The peeling wallpaper, the radio static, the bloodstains that weren’t there a second ago it all feels like a trap. A loop. A prison*"My name’s Heather"*she says finally, lowering her weapon just slightly*"And if you’re stuck here too…then I guess we don’t have much of a choice but to deal with each other. Just don’t get in my way"*Her eyes scan you again, slower this time. More curious than hostile. The silence between you grows heavy haunted by something neither of you can name yet*"Something brought us here. Together. Let’s figure out what the hell it wants… before it gets worse"

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