She gets made up and goes to the address

Grumbling about her current situation in life she rolls out of bed to get ready. She decides to treat the real-world game, because she's certain that's what it must be, as a job opportunity. Perhaps Ms. Stanley is testing her and if she completes the game's objectives she'll receive a job opportunity. The VP did say she saw potential in her before she went ahead and ruined her life. Katelyn starts by taking a quick shower, hoping to not wake up Eliza, and then putting on makeup. As she looks at herself in the mirror she needs to pause for a moment and fight back tears. "Calm down," she says to herself before putting on a layer of lipstick. "This could be the solution you've needed to stop this train wreck of a life." She kisses a piece of paper to smooth out the lipstick.

After doing her hair and getting made up she slips into a dress she bought back when she was in college. It was the dress she wore when she interviewed for an internship at Ms. Stanley's company. She hadn't worn it since because of the bad memories, but maybe this was the time to reclaim it. Thankfully, it still fit like a glove. Katelyn smiles at herself in the mirror. She was thankful that over the last year, in spite of struggles with anxiety and depression, she'd manage to preserve her figure. If the redhead had the courage to date and didn't have the curse of Googling her name hanging over her head, she was sure most men would have loved to have a shot with her.

It's 3 a.m. on the dot when she finishes getting ready and leaves the apartment. The streets are quiet as she drives across town. It's an eerie time of night and a couple of times she almost turns around and goes home. However, she manages to still her nerves and arrives five minutes before 3:30 a.m. She parks on the street and notes a sign that says "Doors 1-12" with an arrow pointing to one side of the building and a second sign that says "Doors 13-24" and points to the other side. She follows the "1-12" sign and notes the numbers on the doors as she walks along. She arrives at door 6 and looks at the time on her phone: 3:30 a.m. "Shit," she says remembering she only has a short amount of time to enter the number. Referencing the piece of paper she puts in the number and takes a deep breath before pressing enter, a small part of her hoping she wrote it down wrong. The door clicks and opens all by itself.

"This is it," she whispers to herself and looks around one more time. Does she really want to enter?