T/W: Foul Language, Gore
Penn unlocked the door to his dorm and entered the dark room, where he was hit with a cold breeze. His body stiffened as he steadily lowered himself, reaching for the knife tucked into his boot sock. With the knife drawn, he stayed low to the ground as he slowly and quietly made his way into the apartment—gently shutting the door partway and leaving it open a crack for his safety.
When the guide had left, the balcony was closed and locked, with the curtains drawn closed — but now they lay wide open, fluttering in the summer night's breeze. First, he peeked in the bathroom, which was empty as expected. Next, he slowly crept to the kitchen, lowering himself to the floor. Once in an army crawl, he peeked around the hallway corner, but the kitchen was also empty.
