The room isn't a store room at all! It seems to be some sort of hospital ward set up, disused and dirty, with a vague and sickly smell of pus, old blood, and necrotic flesh hanging on the air like a musty aroma. There are two plasma bags hung from some apparatus by the hospital bed and a photograph on the cabinet to the other side that looks similar to the tattooed teen that he had shot although without the tatts she looks to be around 11 or 12. A chair stands by the foot of the bed with an old and heavy tome sitting upon the cushion. The air is still and quiet here as though he had briefly walked into a tomb and as his flashlight darts around the interior he can hear the gentle strains of piano music coming from upstairs.
