You get an idea, and take your knife and your shotgun, and try to hold them together, but it turns out to be too awkward. You stuff the knife in the sheath, and hold the shotgun firmly in two hands. You try to open the door, and push, but find it blocked by something. It must be barricaded.
Damn.
You lift a leg, and push the door open with a mighty BANG! as pieces of wood fall to the ground, rusty nails sticking out awkwardly. Inside, the house is musty, not quite as run down as the outside. The walls are painted a cheery light yellow, with waves carved onto the ceiling, or however they do that fancy effect. The furniture is quite ornate, it seems like mahogany, and quite old. It's a mixture between old posh decorations and plain ones. You wonder how that happened.
On this level, there seems to be a kitchen, which is actually decently-stocked, though some of the perishable items have obviously perished. There's a living room, the foyer-room, where you came in from, and what you suspect to be a bathroom. The door is closed however. There is a set of stairs that lead up, probably to bedrooms.
Suddenly, you hear a thumping that makes you jump a mile. To your left is a small door that probably leads to a bathroom, and you hear banging and faint moans from behind. You grip your shotgun like a vice, wondering what you should do.