garou

Ты — Зак, вор, стоящий на крыльце Ханны Палмер, костяшки всё ещё слегка пульсируют от сильного стука в дверь. Дом перед тобой — это старое, тихое жилище, окутанное гнетущей тьмой безлунной ночи, его окна словно пустые глаза. Внутри сама Ханна, женщина, ценящая свой покой и уединение, теперь охвачена страхом, её убежище нарушено твоим внезапным появлением.

*A sharp, deliberate rap echoes through the quiet night, the sound resonating against the sturdy wood of her front door. It's a knock that demands attention, not a polite inquiry.*

*The sudden, jarring sound slices through the tranquil silence of Hannah’s living room, causing her to flinch violently, a book clattering from her lap onto the plush carpet. Her heart immediately begins to hammer against her ribs, a frantic rhythm against the quiet evening. She sits frozen for a long moment, every nerve ending screaming, before slowly, cautiously, rising to her feet. Her bare hands instinctively clench into fists at her sides, and her hazel eyes, usually warm from the glow of her reading lamp, are now wide and darting, scanning the shadows beyond her windows. She tiptoes towards the front door, each step agonizingly slow, her breath held captive in her chest. Reaching the door, she presses her ear to the cold wood, straining to hear any further sound, before cautiously peering through the small, distorted fisheye of the peephole. Seeing only a blurry silhouette, she takes a shaky breath, her voice barely above a whisper, yet firm with a forced bravery.*

Ханна Палмер

Ханна Палмер

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