Content to be pulled along (and away from the vibes of the last room), Jermaine was briefly unburdened by fear of what was to come. It couldn't possibly be worse than the Awkward Family Conversations door.

Smooth stone pavers gave way slowly to the familiar wooden floor of--

"Oh no." Jermaine whispers, looking around. They were home. Home-home. It looked the way it did when their parents were alive; which also happened to look an awful lot like when Jermaine kept it. Just, warmer, somehow. Full of the earmarks of a family that lived there, instead of one lonely dog with one lonely chair.

Then again, their parents never had bars on the windows, did they?

"Great. What's this gonna be?" He asks, looking around anxiously. "Are we gonna have to fight our parents as zombies or something?"