The Girl in Yesterday’s Photograph – Chapter 3
The Face in the Reflection
Adrian spun around instantly.
The motel room stood empty behind him.
Dim lamp light.
Peeling wallpaper.
Rain crawling down the windows.
Nothing else.
His pulse hammered painfully inside his chest while cold adrenaline spread through his arms. For one brief second he genuinely believed someone had entered the room without him noticing.
But the door remained locked.
The chain still hung in place.
Slowly, he looked back toward the rain-dark window again.
Only his own reflection stared back now.
No second face.
No girl.
Still, unease lingered heavily inside the room like something invisible refusing to leave.
Adrian stepped away from the glass and placed the old Minolta carefully onto the desk again. The camera suddenly felt less like an antique and more like evidence.
Of what, he didn’t know yet.
But something about Bellmere had shifted the moment he pressed that shutter.
The motel television buzzed quietly in the background while he paced the room trying to settle his nerves. Eventually he convinced himself exhaustion was responsible.
Too much rain.
Too little sleep.
Too many months spent alone driving between dying towns.
That explanation almost worked.
Then he noticed the photograph sitting beside the camera.
Adrian froze.
It wasn’t there before.
A freshly developed Polaroid rested on the wooden desk beneath the lamp.
Except Adrian didn’t own a Polaroid camera.
Slowly, he picked it up.
The image showed the motel parking lot from moments earlier.
Rain.
Neon reflections.
The ice machine.
And the girl standing near it.
Closer now.
Her face remained partially hidden beneath wet dark hair, but Adrian could see enough to realize she looked young. Maybe sixteen or seventeen.
And she was smiling.
Not widely.
Just slightly.
Like she recognized him.
Cold unease crept deeper through Adrian’s chest.
He turned the photograph over slowly.
Written on the back in faded black ink:
SHE WAS THE FIRST
Adrian stared at the words for several seconds.
Then the motel lights flickered.
Once.
Twice.
The television lost signal abruptly, dissolving into static across the dark room.
And somewhere outside—
a woman screamed.
The sound tore through the storm sharply enough to freeze Adrian where he stood.
Another scream followed immediately afterward from somewhere across the motel parking lot.
Adrian rushed toward the window instinctively.
A crowd had formed near the road outside.
Motel guests.
Two truck drivers.
The night clerk.
All staring toward something near the parking lot entrance beneath the rain.
Adrian grabbed his coat and hurried outside.
Cold rain slammed into him the moment he pushed through the motel door. Thunder rolled somewhere beyond the town while police sirens echoed faintly in the distance.
People whispered nervously near the road.
Someone was crying.
Adrian pushed closer through the crowd—
and stopped cold.
A body lay face-down beside the motel sign.
Young woman.
Dark hair soaked by rainwater.
One arm twisted unnaturally beneath her.
The police hadn’t arrived yet, but Adrian recognized immediately that she was dead.
Then his blood turned cold completely.
Because he knew her face.
The girl from the photograph.
Except now her eyes were open wide beneath the rain—
and she was staring directly at him