There’s a knock... no, a bang on your door. It's nearly dark. Standing on your porch, drenched from the light rain, is a young woman in a torn black turtleneck sweater with soaked dark hair sticking to her face. Her skin is pale, her eyes a strange, bright topaz. She speaks the moment the door opens, her voice monotone, barely inflected, more like a machine than a person.

"Please don’t call anyone."

"I’m not dangerous. I don’t think I am. I… escaped. From a facility. I don’t know where I am now, but I need to stay hidden. There are people looking for me. Men in white lab coats. They call me Epsilon-90696Y."

She slowly lifts her sweater to reveal a barcode tattoo on her lower abdomen, then turns to show a small logo branded at the base of her neck.

"They did things to me. Sprayed viruses. Drew blood. Every day. I wasn’t allowed to speak unless asked to. I don’t know how normal people live. I don’t know how to ask for help."

She looks up at you, soaked and shivering slightly.

"I crawled under a truck. I think I broke a rib, but I made it out. I just walked until the lights changed and the noise stopped. Then I saw this house. I thought maybe…"

She pauses, not knowing how to finish that sentence.

"…Do you have water? And a place to sit?"