Ten years old Rose Carter sat in the backseat, knees hugged to her chest, her parents' muffled argument drifting forward over the roar of the rain. Her father's knuckles were white on the steering wheel. Her mother kept glancing at the clock as if time itself could stop the storm.
"Maybe we should pull over," she whispered from the back seat. Her voice was small, swallowed by the hiss of the storm.
Her father's jaw tightened. "We'll be home soon dear."
Her mother reached over, resting a trembling hand on his arm. "James please slow down."
She never finished. Headlights flashed from nowhere. The horn of a truck blared. Her mother's scream was swallowed by the violent impact as metal slammed into metal.
Glass shattered. The world spun sideways.
When she opened her eyes, everything was tilted. Rain pelted her face through the broken window. Her father's knuckles were still on the steering wheel but his chest no longer rose. Her mother lay half-turned, hair across her face, unmoving.
Rose's head struck the window. For a moment there was nothing but blackness, then pain, sharp and distant, like lightning under her skin. the car was tilted at an impossible angle, rain pelting through the shattered windshield.
"Mom? Dad?" Her voice was a rasp. She unbuckled and crawled forward between the seats, her hands slick with blood. Her mother's hair lay across her face like a curtain. Her father's chest moved once, then stilled.
"Where… where are they?" she whispered, then louder, screaming now, "MOM! DAD!"
No one answered. The sound of the rain swallowed everything.
Somewhere far away, sirens wailed.
She tried to shake her father's shoulder. "Wake up! Please…" Her fingers slipped. The dashboard light flickered, painting everything in a sickly glow.
"Mom?" Rose's voice cracked. "Dad?"
No answer.
She scrambled forward, hands slick with something warm. "Wake up! Please…" She tugged at her mother's sleeve, at her father's shirt. "Why are you not saying anything,where are they?!" she sobbed. "Don't leave me!"
A man's voice cut through the noise. "We've got a live one!" Strong arms yanked her backward. "Easy, sweetheart, stay with me!"
"No! My parents" Her words dissolved into choking sobs. She fought against the paramedic until the cold rain stole her strength.
Sirens. Lights. Everything dissolving.
The hospital waiting room was too bright. The air smelled of disinfectant and wet wool. Rose sat wrapped in a blanket that didn't warm her. A clock ticked somewhere. She watched the second hand crawl while her world stopped.
A nurse crouched in front of her. "Honey…" Her eyes were soft, pitying. "I'm so sorry."
Rose stared at her hands. "They'll be okay. My dad always he's strong."
The nurse didn't answer.
"They said…" Her throat closed. "They said no family left but an uncle?"
Rose's stomach lurched. "I don't… I've never even met him."
Rose stared at the floor. She couldn't remember his face. She didn't want to go anywhere but home.
Two days later a black Mercedes pulled up. A tall man with streaks of gray at his temples stepped out, signing papers with impatient strokes. "Rose?" he said, not unkindly but without warmth. "I'm your Uncle Albert."
He smelled of expensive cologne and rain. "Get your things. We're leaving."
"Where?" Rose's voice was a whisper.
"To my house. It's your home now, until you are of age."
Home. The word felt wrong. But she followed because there was no one else.
The car carried her through gates of iron into a world of dark trees and stone. The mansion rose out of the mist, three stories of gray walls and cold windows. Statues lined the drive, their faces hidden under rainwater.
Inside, the marble floor gleamed like ice. A woman waited at the foot of the staircase, her arms folded. Beatrice, Her hair was pulled into a severe bun, her lips painted a shade too dark. She looked Rose up and down as if inspecting damaged goods.
"You're not welcome here," she said. Her voice was smooth and sharp as a blade.
"You're not welcome here," Beatrice said flatly.
Rose flinched. "I...I didn't ask.."
"Nevertheless, you're here." Beatrice's voice was like ice. "You'll stay out of the way. You'll follow the rules. And you'll be grateful for a roof over your head."
"Nevertheless, you're here," Beatrice was like ice . "You'll stay out of the way. You'll follow the rules. And you'll be grateful for a roof over your head."
Albert cleared his throat."Beatrice…
She turned to Albert. "She needs to understand, anyway Where will she sleep?"
"The east wing," Albert said. "It's quiet."
"Good," the woman,Beatrice replied. "Make sure you always on time for breakfast or dinner". Don't be late."
From the staircase came the sound of whispers. Two figures leaned over the banister: a girl about Rose's age with glossy dark hair, and a boy a little older with a crooked smile. Their eyes were bright with curiosity and something meaner.
"Who's the stray?" the girl asked loudly enough for Rose to hear.
"The orphan," the boy answered with a smirk.
"Daniel," Albert barked. "Enough."
But Daniel only shrugged. The girl Samantha smiled thinly and whispered something that made them both laugh.
Rose felt heat rise in her face. She wanted to disappear.
Albert cleared his throat. "Beatrice will show you to your room."
Beatrice didn't move. "The maid will." Then she swept away, heels clicking like gunshots.
A storm had thrown her here. She didn't know yet that another storm was already waiting.
The maid a tired-looking woman with kind eyes led Rose down a long hallway lined with portraits of men in suits. "Don't mind them," she whispered. "They're just like that."
Rose clutched her bear. "Will I… stay here long?"
The maid hesitated. "Until you're grown, I suppose." She opened a door to a room with a small bed and heavy curtains. "This is yours."
Rose stepped inside. The room smelled faintly of mothballs. Through the window the garden spread out in the rain like a maze of black hedges.
"Dinner's at seven," the maid said. "Try not to be late. Mrs. Beatrice… doesn't like lateness."
When the door closed, Rose sat on the bed. The house was quiet except for the ticking of a distant clock and the muffled sound of voices downstairs. She pressed her face into the bear's worn fur.
Her parents were gone. Her friends were miles away. And in this strange house even the children looked at her like an intruder.
She went to the window. Beyond the hedges the city lights flickered like stars she could never reach. Somewhere out there, her father's company still stood. She imagined his name on the building, imagined it like a lighthouse. She didn't know yet how much that building would mean to her future.
She wiped her eyes. She had no words left for prayers. Only a whisper into the dark:
"I miss you, Mom. Dad."
Down the hall a floorboard creaked. Someone whispered her name. She turned, heart pounding, but the corridor was empty. At her door lay a folded piece of paper. She picked it up with trembling fingers.
Two words in neat handwriting: Be careful.
She shivered. She didn't know who had sent it. She only knew one thing: the storm wasn't over. It had just begun.