Haunted Rayne

24 | Secret Hearts (part 2)

Rayne stands barefoot in the front yard of her childhood home, though something about it feels different now. A memory stitched together from fading dreams. The front steps are the same—drenched in an eternal dripping of beige, paint splattered on too thick by tiny hands. She and her sister had helped her father paint them once. The color seems haunted now, drained of life throughout the years. The pebble path leading up to the porch is familiar too, but it's also all wrong. Weeds choke it, curling through the cracks like grasping hands, and the grass around it lies in brittle, jaundiced clumps.

Each step feels like wading through molasses. As Rayne walks, she feels the same dip in the second step that had always managed to capture her foot since she was five years old. The wood groans beneath her, a soft yet tortured sound.

Something's wrong, her mind whispers, and the thought lingers like a distant echo, trembling in the corners of her consciousness. She pushes open the door. The hinges creak with the touch, and for a moment, the world fractures. Her vision blurs. Yes, this is her childhood home, however, it feels entirely different now. The air hums with different memories now—newer ones—just at the tip of her tongue. Flashes swarm her mind beneath closed eyelids—bodies intertwined in the kitchen, shadows draped in moonlight. Her heart lurches in her chest, but as soon as the vision appears, it vanishes, leaving only a vague sense of mourning behind. Like something lost.

The room before her distorts, like a poorly developed photograph—colors bleeding into one another, the edges soft and blurry. Rayne blinks, struggling to grasp her surroundings. The wallpaper, once a soft floral print, now shimmers with a sickly hue, and outside, the sky crackles with green lightning, a sinister glow creeping through the clouds. The light filters through translucent curtains, casting long shadows that twitch and stretch along the floor.

She eyes them for a moment too long. Fingers emerge from the blackness.

Rayne's breaths are shallow now, her body sluggish, all while time feels like an entity surging all around her and through her veins. She counts each slow breath, acutely aware of time speeding up and shifting in the air. Rayne tries to call out, but her voice is a faint whisper.

Then she hears it—a voice, familiar but distant, calling her name.

"Rayne."

Her heart falters. Slowly, she turns toward the sound, and down the hall, by the window, stands a figure. His face is shrouded in shadow, but his eyes—those piercing, haunted blue eyes—glow with a light her bones know all too well.

Daniel.

It can't be. It has been months since she last dreamt of him, and yet, here he stands, calling out to her. He looks so much like Mr. Matthews, and yet, her heart beats a little quicker, taking in their differences. Daniel is unaged. Youthful. Scarred. Rayne begins to feel a different sense of déjà vu; a memory tugs at her, faint and elusive, as though this moment has happened before, just beyond the grasp of her waking mind. She has been waiting for this, to be able to see him again, to finally speak to him! But now that he's here, something holds her back.

Her lips part, but her voice barely rises above a whisper. "Daniel?"

His name feels strange on her tongue, like a forgotten melody, and the sound of it reverberates through the room, weighing heavy on her heart. The energy shifts, a dark current sweeping through her, pulling her toward him. At the same time, an undercurrent of dread stirs beneath her skin. Something isn't right. Rayne can feel it—a tension in the air, a pressure building at the edges of her awareness.

He steps forward, but the movement is slow, as though time itself stretches around him. Those pale blue eyes catch the strange viridian light, reflecting the storm just beyond the windowpane. An emerald bolt flashes through the glass, splitting the horizon. It casts a ghastly glow over his scarred face, and his features twist, momentarily grotesque—a broken mirror of her homeroom teacher.