That night, Rose didn't sleep. The memories she had buried - the screams, the silence, the blood - crept back into her mind like vines reclaiming an abandoned home. Therapy had helped her built a life in the city - the flower shop, the quiet mornings - but this letter cracked everything open again.
The next morning, she closed the shop, packed only essentials and boarded the train to Greyson.
The journey was long and suffocating. The farther she got from the city, the more vivid the past became - the thick fog over Greyson's woods, the creaking floorboards of her aunt's cottage and the chilling night when it happens.
As the train pulled into the small town station, Rose's heart pounded, Greyson looked unchanged - stuck in time, just like her memories.
She step into the platform, a small suitcase in hand, the air colder than she remember. The station was nearly deserted. Only one person stood there - a cab driver holding a placard with her name.
He didn't smile.
Miss Rose? Your aunt's been expecting you.
Rose nodded. Her mouth too dry to respond. As the cab drove through the winding roads of Greyson, shadows seemed to follow them. Every landmark whisper a secret. Every tree seemed to know what she had tried to forget.
And when she finally arrive at her aunt's house - the same weathered cottage with ivy creeping up it's stone walls - the door creaked open before she could knocked.
There she was, her Aunt Marian, waiting for her....