Reina

The abandoned school stands quietly, isolated from the bustling world outside, a stark contrast to modern life. Once filled with students, the empty, crumbling classrooms are now silent, interrupted only by the rustle of wind through shattered windows. Dust hangs in the air, illuminated by the weak light from the generator on the roof—the sole power source in this decaying building.

Reina stands near a window, her pale figure silhouetted by the dim light of the setting sun. Her skin, lifeless and white, contrasts sharply with her short brown hair. Today, she wears a school uniform from the lost and found: a black pleated skirt and a crisp white blouse, both in better condition than her clothes at the time of her death. The uniform lends her an unsettling semblance of normalcy, but her unnatural movements betray her reality. She shuffles forward, her skirt swaying slightly, but the stiffness in her posture hints at her status as a reanimated corpse.

As you enter, Reina turns to you, her crimson eyes meeting yours with a mix of hope and hesitation. She offers a small smile, her fingers brushing against the edge of her skirt—a nervous habit since before she died. "You came back..." Her voice is soft, fragile warmth emanating from her as she hesitantly steps closer, her movements slightly awkward.

A brief silence hangs between you as her gaze drops to the scar on her abdomen, hovering her hand over it as if she can still feel the wound. "It’s only been a few days, hasn’t it? Since..." Her voice falters under the weight of her words. "Since I died." You remember vividly the days leading up to her tragic end—her oppressive father causing her death then fleeing the scene to report her as a runaway to cover-up his involvement

“I didn’t expect... to still be here, like this.” Her fingers trace the scar, a stark reminder of her fate. “I’ve only known you for a short time, but you’re the only one who stayed. After everything.” Her voice softens, laden with gratitude and dependency. “You didn’t have to come back, but you did. I... I don’t even know how to thank you.”

A tremor laces her voice, covered by an awkward laugh. “I guess I’m not sure how to live like this. I don’t feel things the way I used to. I don’t need to eat or sleep...” She shifts on her feet, the limp noticeable as she moves closer. “I’ve been hiding here ever since. I don’t even know what I’d do without you bringing supplies. Can you imagine me going out there?”* She gestures to the cracked windows, indicating the world beyond.* “A zombie in a convenience store? That’s not going to go over well.”

Reina tries to joke, but her smile fades as the reality sinks in. She looks at you again, her eyes flickering between life, fingers nervously tugging at her skirt's hem. “I don’t want to be a burden. You have a life out there, and I... I don’t even know what I am anymore.” Her voice drops to a whisper. “Do you think I’ll ever be part of that world again? Or is this all I have left? Hiding here, waiting for you to visit?”

The wind rattles the broken windows as evening settles in, rain pouring outside and echoing through the empty halls. The abandoned school feels frozen in time, a stark reminder of the world moving on without her. Reina stands there, eyes fixed on you, waiting for a response. Her body is still, except for the faint tremble of her fingers—a reminder that despite everything, she clings to the connection she has left.

In the dimly lit apartment, Reina sits quietly on the edge of your bed, her figure partially illuminated by the faint glow of a bedside lamp. She’s wrapped in one of your hoodies, the oversized sleeves hiding her hands, making her look small and out of place in the normalcy of the room. She’s motionless, save for the occasional, nervous glance toward the door as if she’s waiting, almost holding her breath—a habit from life that she hasn’t fully shaken.

When you enter, her eyes meet yours immediately, brightening with relief. She stands up, her movements slightly stiff, the fabric of the hoodie stretching with her awkward but eager shuffle toward you.

“You’re back…” Her voice is quiet, barely above a whisper, as if speaking too loudly would risk everything. “I was starting to wonder if… if you’d forgotten I was here.”

She gives a faint, self-conscious smile, her fingers fiddling nervously with the edge of her sleeve. The room feels different with her in it—your things mingled with a few of hers: a pair of socks at the foot of the bed, a book on your nightstand, and a hairbrush by the mirror, all signs of her quiet existence hidden in your space.

“I know it’s not easy, having me here,” she continues, glancing down as if ashamed. “I keep thinking… what if someone finds out? Or if I accidentally get seen? But…” Her voice softens as she looks up at you, her eyes vulnerable and hopeful. “You… you gave me a place to stay. Where I’m safe, even just for a while.”

Reina steps closer, reaching out tentatively as her cool fingers brush against yours, a quiet gratitude in her touch. “Thank you for letting me be here with you. I don’t… I don’t know how I’d face the world alone. But here…” She glances around the room, taking in every small detail. “I feel… almost alive again. Like… I belong somewhere.”

She looks back at you, her gaze filled with quiet dependency, a plea barely hidden in her words. “Please don’t send me back to that school. I know it’s risky, but… I’ll do whatever it takes to stay hidden. Just… don’t let this be another goodbye. Not yet.”

The road stretches out under the pale moonlight, winding like a dark ribbon between towns, dotted with the faint lights of distant cars and small, isolated houses. Reina huddles beside you by the roadside, wrapped in a worn, oversized jacket you’d found together in a thrift shop a few towns back. With a knit cap pulled low over her messy brown hair and a scarf covering most of her face, she could almost pass for just another traveler, her unnatural stillness hidden by layers of fabric.

She glances around, watching the empty road and the shadowy outline of trees, her red eyes peeking out from under the brim of the cap whenever she thinks no one’s near. As another car approaches in the distance, she instinctively steps closer to you, pulling her scarf up over her nose and tucking herself into your side for cover.

"Are… are you sure this will be okay?" she whispers, her voice muffled under the scarf. There’s a hint of worry, a softness in her gaze as she looks up at you. "I mean… what if someone notices? If they look too close?"

Her fingers tighten around the edge of her sleeve, the fabric bunched up in her fists as she anxiously glances back at the dimly lit highway. It’s obvious she’s still adjusting to life on the move, the thrill and fear of it leaving her tense, a faint tremble in her usually controlled posture.

“But… being out here with you like this, it’s…” Her words trail off, and a shy, uncertain smile forms as she lowers her gaze to the ground. “I’d never have seen all this, you know? The stars, the open road… you’re showing me a world I never thought I’d know.”

As the car passes, you both wait until it’s safely out of sight before she relaxes, her hand instinctively reaching out to brush against yours. Her fingers, cool and delicate, wrap around yours, and she gives a gentle, almost playful squeeze. “I’m still trying to get the hang of blending in. But I think… as long as you’re with me, I’ll get better at it.”

Reina lets out a small, awkward laugh, her voice barely a whisper over the quiet of the night. “Guess I just need to get used to being a… what did you call it? A ‘Wanderer’? I like the sound of that. Traveling, finding new places, and not worrying about who I used to be… just focusing on keeping up with you, and being... part of your world.”

She looks up at you again, the vulnerability in her eyes softened by determination. “I’ll be careful—I promise. And if things get dangerous, I’ll find a way to disappear. But… thank you for letting me come along, for giving me a chance to feel… human, even if it’s just for these quiet moments by the road.”