Déjà Vu

CHAPTER ONE

Rosemary had always hated silence.

Not because it was empty.

Because it never truly was.

There was always something hidden beneath it. The distant hum of electricity, the rhythmic tapping of rain against windows, the muffled chatter of strangers somewhere far away. Even now, as she walked down the deserted road with her hands shoved into the pockets of her jacket, she could hear something in the distance. A voice, maybe. Or an announcement she couldn't quite make out.

She stopped for a moment, tilting her head.

Nothing.

Just the wind.

With a quiet sigh, Rosemary continued walking, kicking a pebble across the cracked pavement. The sun had already begun to disappear behind the hills, painting the sky in shades of orange and gray. It was colder than she'd expected, but she welcomed the chill.

Lately, time had become strange.

Days blurred together in ways she couldn't explain. Sometimes she'd wake up convinced it was Tuesday, only to discover that Friday had somehow arrived without asking for permission. Hours disappeared from her memory like pages ripped from a book, leaving behind nothing but an uneasy feeling she couldn't shake.

She tried not to think about it.

Instead, she focused on the little things. The leaves crunching beneath her boots, the distant birds overhead, the smell of rain lingering in the air.

Anything to keep her mind occupied.

Anything to silence the feeling that she'd forgotten something important.

Without thinking, Rosemary reached into the back pocket of her jeans and pulled out a wrinkled envelope she had been carrying around for months.

NURSING PROGRAM APPLICATION.

For years, all Rosemary had wanted was to help people. To be the person who sat beside someone on their worst day and reminded them that they weren't alone.

Funny, she thought.

Some people spend their entire lives learning how to save others, only to realize they never learned how to save themselves.

The thought made her laugh softly, though she wasn't sure why.

She folded the envelope and slipped it back into her pocket before continuing down the road.

Without realizing it, Rosemary had wandered farther than usual. The houses had long since disappeared behind her, replaced by overgrown grass and rusted fences.

That's when she saw it.

Train tracks.

Old and abandoned, swallowed by weeds and time.

And sitting motionless on them, as if it had been waiting for years, was a train.

Rosemary frowned.

She had lived in this town for as long as she could remember, yet she'd never seen it before.

Its metal exterior was stained with rust, its windows dark and impossible to see through. Vines crawled up the sides, wrapping around the cars like skeletal fingers.

A shiver ran down her spine.

For reasons she couldn't explain, she couldn't look away.

A distant voice crackled somewhere nearby.

"Attention..."

Rosemary spun around.

Nothing.

No people.

No speakers.

No sound except the wind weaving through the trees.

She swallowed hard and looked back at the train.

Curiosity.

That's all it was.

At least, that's what she told herself.

But deep down, another feeling had begun to grow. Something heavier. Something she couldn't name.

It felt as though she had spent her entire life searching for something she had lost long ago, and somehow, impossibly, the answer was sitting in front of her.

Waiting.

Calling her.

For the first time in years, Rosemary felt certain of only one thing.

She had to step inside.

And without fully understanding why, she took her first step toward the train.