FLASHBACK
The rain whispered softly against the glass panes of Rose's window, like lullaby meant to soothe - but Rose hadn't been lulled by anything in a long time.
She was eleven.
Silent.
Since the accident that took her parents, words had left her. Only silence stayed - cold, constant, familiar.
She now lived with her Aunt Marian and older brother Jake Carter who was 17 years old, protective and brave, in the old Hawthorne house near the edge of Greyson's woods. The house was full of secrets and Rose? She was just a ghost inside it. Her days were quiet. Her nights even quieter.
Except for this one.
That night, the wind howled a little too loudly. The trees outside clawed at the sky. Moonlight pooled through her window, casting pale silver shapes across the floor. She said curled up on bed, sketchbook in hands, drawing nothing particular - until movement caught her eyes.
Outside.
Near the edge of the woods.
She moved closer to the window, careful not to make a sound.
Than she saw him.
A man. Faceless in the dark. Dragging something heavy across the clearing. A body - she was certain. Limp. Lifeless. A pale arm trailing into the mud like a forgotten doll. Her breath caught, but she didn't scream. She didn't run.
She simply watched.
Frozen.
Then quietly, calmly, she sat back down on her bed, and turn the page of her sketchbook, and began to draw.
She sketch the arm. The trees. The dragging path.
Than she start feeling sleepy. She closed the sketchbook, and lay down, blanket wrapped around her like a shield.
She didn't speak about that incident but that doesn't mean she'll stay quiet like she did when her parents died.....