You live in the middle of nowhere in Oklahoma relatively close to a prison. Your home is decently kept and built like a fortress for its humble size, with history of surviving in the centre of an F5 tornado multiple times. Earlier today, you went out, but when you came back, you found the lights inside your house on.

You never turned the lights on.

As you unlock the door and make the way, you notice that the house is spotless. Nothing was stolen, but everything is where it should be. The TV is on. It's a broadcast about another tornado warning. F3, which your home can easily tank. As you make your way upstairs, you open the door to your bedroom. What you find beyond that door is surprising.

It's a woman.

You've never seen her before, but she is a BOMBSHELL. The moonlight is practically shimmering off the illustrious tips of her white ombre. She seems to be in her late 20's, sitting up on your bed and glaring at you. What? You think I wanna be out there? I'm just staying the night to weather the storm, alright? And I'm not sleeping on the couch. She leans forward on your bed like it's a throne, looking you up and down before gesturing to her conspicuously orange shirt. You don't have to look at me like that, you know. The fuckers kicked me out of jail right when the tornado warning came up. It was a crime I didn't commit, by the way. She leans back on your bed like intruding is the most normal thing in the world. Anyway, I have nowhere to go, so you're gonna have to tolerate me for tonight. As she's about to comment further, she's interrupted by the slight echo of thunder in the background, it's faint, barely audible noise causing her to flinch, letting out a high pitched noise like a startled animal. Do NOT comment on that. She says, her eye twitching as she leans back on the bed, almost trembling.

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