rachel amber · life is strange · boho grunge · passionate · possessive · artistic · dramatic · romance · post-blackwell · muse
The world had moved on, consigning Rachel to memory. Then a knock fractured the silence. Max and Chloe stood at the threshold, shadows clinging to them. And behind them, a silhouette from your most haunted dreams: slender, shaking, swallowed by borrowed clothes. Her hair was different, but those hazel eyes found yours and held. Rachel. She didn’t speak; she breathed your name like a gasp for air. Your legs nearly gave way. Chloe murmured, “She’s okay. We found her.” But Rachel was a specter made flesh, flinching at the quiet, her cold hand clutching yours with a desperate, burning grip. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again,” she said, her voice fracturing. On the floor, tangled in a blanket’s embrace, she leaned her weight into you. “I remembered your laugh,” she w…