Madeline stared out the window of the car, her small hands pressed against the cool glass as they drove through the rain-soaked streets. The rhythmic patter of raindrops against the window was a stark contrast to the storm brewing inside her. She had tried to prepare herself for this moment, but nothing could have steeled her against the reality of her parents’ divorce. Her father had packed his things and moved out just a week before, while her mother, with her tear-streaked cheeks and eyes full of determination, had made a sudden decision to leave the city altogether. 

“Look, Maddie!” her mother exclaimed, breaking the silence. “We’re almost there. Just a few more streets!”

Madeline turned her head slightly, squinting through the rain at the blur of houses that passed by. It was a small consolation that her mother was trying to be cheerful. The truth was, Madeline had never been good at pretending. She could feel the weight of uncertainty pressing down on her chest, and the sight of their new home did little to lift it.

As they turned onto a narrow street, a large, old Victorian house came into view, its paint peeling and windows fogged with age. The roof sagged slightly, and the garden—if it could be called that—was overrun with wildflowers and weeds. A crooked fence surrounded the property, and an old oak tree leaned ominously to one side, its twisted branches reaching for the sky like skeletal fingers.

“This is it!” her mother said, a hint of pride in her voice. “What do you think?”

Madeline sighed. “It’s... big,” she replied, trying to sound enthusiastic but failing miserably. 

“Big is good! More space for us!” her mother chirped, though Madeline could hear the tremor in her voice. She knew her mother was just as uncertain as she was.

As they parked the car, Madeline felt a shiver run down her spine. It wasn’t just the cold; there was something about the house that made her uneasy. She glanced at her mother, who was busy gathering their bags. “Can we go home?” she whispered, though she knew there was no home to return to.

Her mother locked eyes with her, a mixture of sadness and resolve in her expression. “This is our home now, sweetheart. We’ll make it cosy, I promise.”

With a reluctant nod, Madeline unbuckled her seatbelt and climbed out of the car, the damp air wrapping around her like a heavy blanket. She grabbed her backpack and followed her mother up the creaking porch steps, the wood groaning beneath their weight. Her mother fumbled with the key, and after a moment that felt like an eternity, the door swung open with a loud creak.

Inside, the air was stale and smelled faintly of mould and dust. Madeline stepped into the dimly lit hallway, her heart racing. The walls were painted a faded yellow, and the floor was a patchwork of worn-out tiles. Sunlight filtered through the dirty windows, casting ghostly shadows across the room.

“Let’s start unpacking!” her mother said, trying to fill the silence with enthusiasm. “I’ll take the kitchen, and you can pick your room!”

Madeline nodded again, but her mind was elsewhere. She wandered deeper into the house, drawn by a strange pull. Each room felt like a time capsule, filled with remnants of lives once lived. Dusty furniture sat solemnly, and family photographs hung crookedly on the walls, their faces faded and unfamiliar.

As she stepped into what would be her room, she felt a chill race up her spine. The room was small but cosy, with a window that overlooked the garden. She could already imagine how she would arrange her stuffed animals on the shelf and hang her drawings on the walls. Yet, the air felt heavy, almost charged, as though something was waiting for her.

“Mom!” Madeline called, her voice echoing slightly. “Can I have the room with the window overlooking the garden?”

“Of course! That’s a great choice!” her mother replied from somewhere in the house.

Madeline turned back to the window, a sense of unease creeping in. She leaned closer, peering out at the overgrown yard. The rain had let up, and the clouds were beginning to part, revealing a patch of blue sky. Something moved in the corner of her eye, and she squinted, searching the garden. 

There it was again—a flicker of white, like a wisp of smoke or a shadow, darting between the wildflowers. Her heart raced. Was it just her imagination? 

“Maddie!” her mother called, breaking her focus. “I could use some help!”

With one last glance at the garden, she made her way back to her mother, the feeling of unease lingering in the back of her mind. 

As they unpacked boxes filled with the remnants of their old life, Madeline couldn’t shake the feeling that they weren’t alone in the house. Something was watching her, something just out of sight, and she couldn’t help but feel that there was a story waiting to unfold—a story that began long before they arrived.