While Rosaline served her three-day suspension from school, she took the chance to search for something she'd lost—her favorite necklace, a delicate chain with a moon-shaped charm that had mysteriously vanished days ago. She rummaged through drawers, beneath her bed, and in forgotten corners of her room.
As she reached for the back of her old jewelry box, an old photo frame accidentally toppled from the shelf. The glass clinked softly as it landed on her rug. She froze.
It was a picture of her parents—young, radiant, and smiling as if they had the world at their feet.
"They really look good together," Rosaline whispered, her voice tinged with something unexplainable. A pull. A yearning.
Driven by a sudden need to see more, she tiptoed into her grandmother's room and opened the old, creaky wardrobe. Hidden beneath piles of vintage clothes and mothball-scented scarves, she found what she was looking for—her parents' photo album.
She flipped through the pages, her fingers trembling as each memory stared back at her in frozen time. Then she saw them—images she had never seen before.
Photos of a car wreck.
Twisted metal. Shattered glass. The vehicle was barely recognizable. Her chest tightened.
"This... this was the accident?" she murmured.
Her brows furrowed. According to her grandmother, both her parents had slipped into a coma after the crash... and she—Rosaline—was in the car too. But the images didn't make sense.
"If my parents were in a coma, why was I the only one who survived without a single scratch?" she muttered, her voice shaky.
She stared at her own reflection in the mirror across the room, searching for answers on her untouched skin. "Why wasn't I hurt? Not even a scar?"
A deep frown etched across her forehead. She remembered what her grandmother always said—that she had been in the back seat, asleep, when the crash happened.
But something didn't add up.
"This is wrong. Something's not right," she said to herself, placing the disturbing photos back into the album. She returned it quietly to its hiding place, her thoughts in disarray.
According to her grandmother, the accident had occurred at midnight—12:00 AM—on the lonely roads of Ravernthorn.
A cold shiver crawled down her spine.
"Ravernthorn..." she whispered.
They used to live there.
And suddenly, memories she didn't know she had flickered like dying candles in her mind—dark trees, a cold night, the sound of sirens... and someone calling her name in a voice she didn't recognize.
"There's something fishy about this," she said under her breath.
Something was being kept from her. Something big.
She was determined to find out the truth.
No matter what.