Rebbeca's Awakening

Rebecca's phone vibrated on the nightstand, cutting through the stillness of the night. She stirred, her eyes barely open, noticing the soft glow illuminating the ceiling. With a groggy sigh, she rolled over and reached for her phone, knocking over a glass of water in the process. The name on the screen sent a flicker of unease through her sleep-fogged mind: Tom.

Still half-asleep, she swiped to answer. "Hello?" she mumbled.

"Rebecca," Tom’s voice came through, sharp and urgent. The next few words hit her like a cold splash of water, and adrenaline surged through her veins. She bolted upright in bed, her pulse quickening.

“What? Are you sure?” she whispered, now fully awake. The room, once a place of calm, suddenly felt suffocating. Tom's words echoed in her head, driving her to move faster.

Without wasting another second, Rebecca leaped out of bed, splashed cold water on her face, and hurriedly brushed her teeth. She threw on the first clothes she could find, barely aware of what she was doing. Her mind kept replaying Tom’s call, over and over. She grabbed her keys and rushed out the door, her heart pounding louder than the footsteps echoing in the empty hallway.

As she sped down the dark, deserted streets, her thoughts raced. Rebecca had been the coroner in this quiet town for years, and nothing unusual ever happened here. But tonight, Tom’s discovery would change everything. The morgue’s driveway came into view, and the knot in her stomach tightened.

When she pulled in, the familiar sight of the building felt different. It loomed in the darkness, more foreboding than usual. Rebecca stepped out of her car, the cold night air biting at her skin, and a sense of dread settled over her. She quickened her pace, the sound of her footsteps sharp against the pavement.

As she neared the door, her morning mantra surfaced in her mind, a grounding force she had relied on for years. “I am who I am, and that is enough,” she whispered to herself, repeating it three times. The words gave her strength, though tonight they felt oddly fragile.

She made her way to the autopsy room, where Tom and three police officers were waiting outside. Their faces were grim, and the tension in the air was palpable.

"Hey, Tom. Sorry for the wait," Rebecca said, trying to steady her voice.

Tom gave her a quick nod, his expression serious. "You alright, Bec? You sure you don’t want some coffee? Looks like it’s going to be a long night."

Rebecca shook her head, managing a small smile. "No, I’m good. Let’s see what we’ve got."

They entered the sterile room, the familiar scent of disinfectant thick in the air. In the center of the room, a black body bag lay on the autopsy table. Something about it felt ominous, commanding the room in a way no body bag ever had before.

Rebecca’s pulse quickened as she approached it, her fingers itching to unzip it and reveal the mystery inside. She reached for the zipper, her hand shaking slightly from anticipation. Before she could pull it open, Tom gently caught her wrist. She looked up, startled, meeting his eyes. They were dark, filled with something that made her hesitate.

After a moment, he let go. Rebecca swallowed hard and slowly unzipped the bag. The sound was louder than usual, cutting through the silence. As the bag parted, a flash of blonde hair came into view, then pale, smooth skin. The girl looked almost serene, as if she were sleeping.

But something was wrong. The girl's skin wasn’t just pale — it was unnaturally white, almost glowing under the fluorescent lights. Rebecca had never seen anything like it before. She leaned in, studying the girl’s face. It was delicate, with soft, angelic features. There was no trauma, no visible injury. It was as if she had simply... stopped.

Rebecca shook herself from her trance and moved to put on her gloves and apron. She gathered her equipment, pressed record on the microphone, and tried to steady her voice.

"Autopsy of an unidentified female, approximately late teens. Subject is small in stature, around 5'2", with blonde, curly hair and an unusual pallor to the skin."

As she spoke, her eyes lingered on the girl’s face. The girl looked peaceful, almost too perfect, with skin so flawless it seemed untouched by life. Rebecca couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong — something beyond what she could see.

"Subject appears to be in remarkable physical condition… no immediate signs of trauma."

Tom cleared his throat beside her. "We need to turn her over," he said quietly, signaling for her to pause the recording.

Rebecca nodded, and they carefully turned the body. As the girl’s back came into view, Rebecca’s breath caught. A large portion of her back was missing, the flesh torn away, revealing jagged bones protruding from the wound. But what stunned Rebecca wasn’t just the damage — it was the shape of the bones. They jutted out in a way that made Rebecca’s mind reel.

They looked like wings.

"Wings?" she whispered, barely able to voice the thought. The bones, sharp and angled, resembled skeletal remains of something once majestic, now violently ripped away. Rebecca’s heart raced, her mind scrambling to make sense of the image before her.

She needed answers. Steeling herself, Rebecca took a small bone sample from the protruding structure and placed it under the microscope. As she bent down to examine it, a voice, soft and fragile, echoed through the room.

"Help me, Bec… Help me."

Rebecca froze. Her breath caught in her throat as she turned toward Tom. He stood just as still, his eyes wide with disbelief.

"Did you hear that?" she whispered, her voice shaking.

Tom nodded, his hand instinctively resting on his gun. "Yeah, I did."

Before they could react, the lights in the room flickered and went out, plunging them into darkness. The shrill sound of the alarm filled the air, making Rebecca’s heart leap into her throat. The emergency lights bathed the room in an eerie red glow.

"Stay close," Tom ordered, pulling his gun from its holster as he scanned the room.

Rebecca’s hands fumbled for the light switch, her fingers shaking. She flipped it, and the lights flickered back on. The alarm cut out abruptly, leaving an unnerving silence in its wake.

Rebecca turned back to the autopsy table — and gasped.

The body was gone.

The black bag lay open and empty, as if the girl had vanished. Rebecca’s pulse quickened, her mind racing. "Where is she?" she whispered, glancing around the room, panic rising in her chest.

Tom stood frozen, his eyes wide. "She was right here…"

Then, Rebecca saw it. In the corner near her desk, a flash of blonde hair. The girl was crouched, knees pulled to her chest, rocking slowly back and forth, her body swaying in a trance-like motion.

Rebecca’s breath hitched. She felt a strange pull toward the girl, an eerie sense of calm washing over her. The fear that had gripped her moments before was replaced by a quiet determination. She took a step forward.

"Tom, put the gun down," she said softly, her voice carrying an odd sense of certainty.

Tom hesitated, then slowly lowered his weapon, watching as Rebecca approached the girl.

Rebecca knelt in front of her, her heart pounding in her chest. The girl’s blonde hair fell over her face, but she didn’t seem dangerous. Just… lost. Slowly, the girl lifted her head, her eyes meeting Rebecca’s.

"I’m sorry," the girl whispered, her voice thick with sorrow. "I didn’t mean to bring this here. I thought I could stop it. I thought I could save them."

Rebecca’s heart tightened. The girl’s words carried the weight of something far bigger than Rebecca could understand. She reached out, her breath unsteady.

"And now," the girl whispered, her voice breaking, "I’ve lost."

Before Rebecca could respond, the girl gently reached out and placed her hand on Rebecca’s cheek. The touch was soft, but the moment their skin connected, a jolt of energy surged through Rebecca’s body. Her vision blurred, and suddenly, she was somewhere else.

Images flashed in her mind, chaotic and overwhelming. Shadows of wings, broken and twisted. Blood, fire, circles of light spinning faster and faster. It was too much. She couldn’t keep up. The heat from the fire felt real, burning her skin. She gasped, her breath coming in short bursts, but she couldn’t pull away.

The visions swirled around her, disorienting, pulling her deeper into something ancient and terrifying. Her mind screamed for release, but the torrent of images continued. Then, as suddenly as it had started, it all stopped.

Rebecca blinked, gasping for air, her body trembling. She was back in the morgue, but something had changed. The room felt different, colder, emptier. She slowly reached up, touching her cheek where the girl had placed her hand. The warmth lingered, but faint, almost gone.

And the girl was gone. The corner where she had crouched was empty. The room was silent, the lights buzzing softly overhead.

Suddenly, everything went black.

Rebecca jolted awake, her body drenched in sweat, tangled in her bedsheets. Her breath came in short, panicked gasps as she struggled to calm herself. Her hand instinctively reached for her cheek, where the girl had touched her. The sensation of warmth lingered, though faint and fading with every passing second.

She sat up, her heart racing, eyes darting around the dark room. The familiar surroundings of her bedroom slowly came into focus. It had been a dream — a vivid, terrifying, and surreal dream. She ran a hand through her damp hair, trying to shake the lingering images from her mind.

But it had felt so real.

Her phone vibrated beside her, and she flinched at the sound. Slowly, hesitantly, she picked it up. Tom. The same name she had seen before. Her stomach twisted, and for a moment, she couldn’t breathe. Was it starting again? Was the nightmare real after all?

With trembling fingers, she swiped to answer.

"Hello?" she whispered, her voice weak, afraid of what might come next.

But this time, Tom’s voice came through calm and casual, oblivious to the terror she had just experienced.

"Hey, Bec. Just checking in to see if you’re free tomorrow. We’ve got a new case coming in, and I figured I’d give you a heads up."

Rebecca exhaled slowly, her grip on the phone relaxing as the tension in her chest eased.

"It was just a dream," she whispered to herself, more to convince herself than anything.

But as she hung up the phone and stared at the ceiling, the feeling of those wings — those haunting, broken wings — lingered in her mind.

And the warmth on her cheek hadn’t entirely faded.

The End.