You knock on the door, hesitantly at first, then more firmly when nobody answers. After a few moments of silence, you begin to realize the irony of knocking at a boarded-up door. You stand there sheepishly.
Determined to enter the house, you walk around its perimeter, searching for another way in. Paint peels grotesquely off the walls, and you wonder how old the house is. On the western side, ivy meanders up a corner, trying to engulf the house in a blanket of leaf.
You catch a glint of sunlight peeking through the ivy. Brushing aside the tangle of vegetation reveals a window webbed with cracks.
You notice a brick lying on the ground, almost as if it were left there just for you…
As you pick up the brick, your conscience begins to catch up to you.
Break the window and enter the house.