Haunted Rayne

11 - He Knows

Dorian Matthews dreamt of rain, pelting the roof of a luxurious modern home centered in the Pennsylvanian woods. For a moment, dream-Dorian studied the streams as they trickled down his bedside window. Perhaps this was the segueing image that had transitioned him from one dream to the next—from falling over the edge of a cliff to observing a single raindrop streaming down a frosted windowpane.

Dorian stood confidently, as men often do in dreams, and slipped out from beneath the silken, maroon duvet. The moon shone through floor-to-ceiling windows that made up the eastern wall, and there was an alarm clock on the nightstand that read 10:39 p.m.

Wearing a long-sleeve Henley shirt and a pair of navy boxer briefs, Dorian ambled from the bedroom to the kitchen. He would not realize until morning that he had never before seen this house, for as he dreamt, Dorian felt familiar within the structure; in fact, it seemed that dream-Dorian had called this place home.

In the living room, the aft wall was replaced with another floor-to-ceiling window, allowing the outdoor precipitation to feel as though it flooded the home. A brunette stood in the kitchen wearing a lace-trimmed satin robe. Her hair was long, reaching the middle of her spine, and the ends of her short kimono exposed the bottoms of her cheeks and tanned legs. With her back towards him and her gaze upon the window, it appeared as though the woman was admiring the view.

Dorian approached her, a dreamlike intuition telling him who she was even though he had not yet made the connection within his real-world subconscious. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her back close to the plains of his chest, allowing himself to breathe in the floral fragrance of her shampoo. They gaped in awe at the sight before them: moonlight, bathing droplets of rainwater with a mystical shimmer, illumining the expanse of pine trees that towered over their secluded home.

Through the blurry, rain-dripped reflection, Dorian saw the woman's face, and only then, did he realize who he was holding. Startled, he took several steps backward.

"He knows," she whispered.

Rayne Foster turned around, and it was evident that she was a girl no longer. She was a woman now, appearing as though she had aged ten to fifteen years. Fine lines began to crinkle the corners of her eyes; smile lines etched deep into her skin.

She stepped toward him, one smooth leg slipping through the folds of her satin nightgown. A manicured hand extended toward him. "Don't be shy," she said, offering a lustrous Pacific Rose apple. Something slick suddenly slipped down his fingers; Dorian heard its steady drip-drop-drip against the birch wood flooring and trained his eyes downward. When he lifted his hands and surveyed his palms, he discovered they were smeared with blood.

Rayne stood before him now. Toe to toe. The rapid quiver in her eyes and lips challenged the violent rattling of an eastern diamondback. The apple fell to the floor. As Dorian gazed upon her, the golden hue of her skin began to pale in patches, like a rash spreading across the surface of her flesh. Thin, black veins pebbled her forearms, her collarbone, her cheeks, and she whispered, "Oh, God. He's found us."

Like moonlight gleaming off the internal facets of an emerald stone, Rayne Foster's brown eyes suddenly flickered a dazzling green. Dorian did not have long to recognize the shade, for as soon as the irises invoked a long-since forgotten memory, the woman before him thrust a blade into his chest.

He awoke in a panic, clutching the breast of his T-shirt. It took a moment for Dorian's eyes to adjust to the darkened dorm room. For several heartbeats, he simply sat still, steadying his rushing breath until he could muster the energy to travel from his mattress to the mini-fridge in the corner. The staff's living quarters, located on the upper floors of the South Hall, were not nearly as extravagant as the student dormitory, however, they did possess a few luxuries the students did not (fridge, microwave, private bath, etc.).