Rain drummed against the windshield, blurring the outline of the house ahead — tall, old, and far too quiet for a place that still had its lights on. Emma tightened her grip on the steering wheel as thunder rolled overhead. She should've felt safe coming home. But ever since the night three months ago — the night she stopped remembering — the house had felt like it was watching her.
In the passenger seat, Luke sat still, eyes following the shifting trees outside. He didn't speak much anymore, not since he came back from the accident that was supposed to kill him. The doctors called it a miracle. Emma called it something else.
When he turned toward her, his gaze caught hers for a heartbeat — too steady, too knowing.
"You're sure you want to go back there tonight?" he asked. His voice was low, almost careful.
Emma nodded, even as something inside her screamed no.
"I need to see it," she said. "I need to remember what happened."
Luke's hand brushed hers, gentle but cold. "Just… stay close to me, okay?"
She forced a small smile. "Always."
They stepped into the storm, the wind clawing at their clothes as they climbed the steps to the front door. The key slid in easily — too easily. When the door creaked open, the faint smell of smoke drifted out.
Emma froze. The living room lights flickered, and for a moment, she saw something move in the reflection of the glass cabinet — a shadow that didn't belong to either of them.
Luke stepped forward, blocking her view.
"Stay behind me," he murmured.
She should have listened.
Because when she looked past him again, the reflection was smiling back at her — and it looked exactly like her.