Supernatural thriller | Rising fashion influencer Rhea is gearing up for her runway debut, but her perfect world is upended when she finds herself haunted by a ghostly doppelganger.
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Twenty-four-year-old Rhea Patel has it all-the career in fash...
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From far at the edge of the foggy space, the languid beep, beep of the hospital monitor melded with the chime of the phone alarm.
Joselyn watched the doorway. Her eyes wide from fright as if she was expecting the devil himself to emerge. "Your mom can't come here. Not now. If anyone sees me here like this—"
Rhea didn't respond. In fact, she didn't say or do anything. Her eyes glazed over as they landed on mine. A faraway stare that unnerved me and sent a shiver down my spine.
"Rhea?" I knelt beside her, trying to get her to move or say anything. I waved my hand before her eyes. "Hey, you can't give up. We have to get you out of here."
Joselyn crept toward the apartment where the phone's alarm called to her like a siren of the sea. Her apprehension to rush into the room revealed how uncomfortable and scared she was of what she might find once she entered.
Rhea remained on the floor, staring, unblinking. Her hair matted and caked with dark thick blood. Her once bronze complexion now taken on a pale grey hue. The thought that in this moment she could take her last breath, blink her final blink, and leave what would be left of her to Nolan, caused anxiety to grip me in my gut. But the faint mechanical beeping lit a fire under me. I had to do something. Anything. I couldn't allow this to be the end.
"Get up," I ordered. I waved my hand and snapped my fingers, gesturing for her to react and take action. "You have to get up and get to the door."
She only lay there, eyes locked onto mine, unblinking.
Anticipating the final phantom emerging from her body, I reached out to jostle some fight into her but stopped short when I couldn't see my entire forearm. It not only become transparent, but even the faint outline had disappeared. Alarmed, I lifted both arms to quickly determine the progression. As I feared, more and more of me was disappearing into nothingness. Thank goodness I still had my sense of touch, as I reached out to paw her shoulder.
With an eager intent of connecting, my fingers gingerly grazed her dewy skin and her eyes widened, startling us both. She felt my touch and I felt her too. Her arm was cold and clammy, even the spot that was free from blood.
"Mom?" she whispered, her soft voice was separate from the beeping, chiming, and frustrated grunts that filled the space around me. "Mama?" She narrowed her eyes as if to get a better look.
"No." I shook my head and pointed to her and the front door. "I'm you and we're gonna get you out of here." I signaled for her to get up.
She struggled, pushing herself up on her hands and knees. As she paused to gather her strength, the fingers of her right hand rhythmically tapped the tiles, making me realize I too had been unknowingly tapping my fingertips along my thigh. Anxiety of the unknown, the pressure to succeed, and the fear of failing needed an outlet when I was hellbent on suppressing those feelings.
