Haunted Rayne

5 | A Dance with Defiance

The granite stone walls of the shower room stretched from the floor to the mahogany beams. There were cubbies built into the lefthand wall and limestone benches below them. Along the righthand side, there were sixteen shower stalls sectioned off with frosted glass doors. Crystal chandeliers swung from tiny chains fifteen feet above, and Rayne wondered how they kept a place like this sparkling clean.

Stepping barefoot onto the white granite floor, Rayne was surprised by how cold and clammy it was. She had yet to turn the faucet but slipped a little as she hopped into the fourth stall and closed the frosted glass behind her. The light flickered just before a chilled cascade of water crashed over her shoulders. Her hands rubbed a creamy shea butter body wash up her arms and over her shoulders. She couldn't remember the last time she took a shower that smelled this lovely: coconuts, butter, and sea salt, like some tropical island where the sun was so bright, it could wipe out any shadows that dared slither in the sand. At Aurora Psychiatric, all of the soaps and shampoos were a cheap pine-scent. Although the aromas were an upgrade, Rayne still would have preferred showering at home. 

Behind her, a dark mass grazed the frosted glass. 

Rayne didn't notice.

She was still washing her hair when two stalls down, someone shouted, "Hey, you the new girl?"

Rayne switched off the faucet. "That depends," she hollered, shampoo dripping down the side of her face. "Who's asking?"

"You might not want to leave your towel unattended."

Quickly, Rayne opened the stall and searched the cubbies along the back wall. Her uniform and towel were already gone. "Are you kidding me?" she snapped. "What did you do with my stuff?"

"I didn't do anything," the voice said, seeming to emanate from the walls. "But if I were you, I'd check the stalls."

Sure enough, Rayne found her clothes and towel drenched in the stall at the end of the row, a heavy stream of water still raining down on them. She twisted the faucet and stared at the pile. "Figures," she muttered. "Tell me who did it and maybe I won't kick your ass!"

"Whoa, wait!" A blonde head popped out of the sixth stall. As far as Rayne could tell, they were the only two girls in the room. "It was Bianca. Bianca Hawthorne. She pulls this crap with all the newbies, I swear."

"Where can I find Bianca?" Rayne asked. She was not insecure by any means, but the way this girl eyed her skinny, nude figure made her suddenly self-conscious.

"Long gone by now," the girl said, tossing Rayne a red towel that she'd hidden in her stall. "I had a feeling she'd pull this. Here's an extra. I'm Nikki."

Reluctantly, Rayne wrapped the towel around her bony figure. "Thanks. I'm Rayne. I'm making so many friends today," she mumbled sarcastically.

Nikki laughed, and Rayne noticed her blonde waves looked strangely put together for having just stepped out of the shower. The girl had already changed into her uniform, too—a white blouse, a fitted-black sweater vest, and a pair of black slacks. The attire somehow managed to compliment her curvy figure. Rayne, who had not yet seen the uniform, was pleased to discover there was no mini-skirt-and-high-socks combo involved.

"I'm not too great at making friends either," Nikki confessed, but Rayne didn't really believe her. "If you see me around, feel free to say 'hey'."

Rayne stepped back into her stall. "Yeah, I'll think about it."

◢✥◣

Sneaking smokes in the Dormitory stairwell, Cole Bradford and his friends were still arguing over the new girl. Cole had since changed into his school uniform. The sleeves of his white dress shirt were rolled to his elbows, a black designer watch-and-leather bracelet set looped his left wrist.