Scratch

This is part of the novel I'm writing, and I need as much feedback as I can get.
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     A breeze drifts through the half opened window, along with the sound of a child laughing. Reyna looks up from the old, battered book in her hand, her flashlight still aimed at the pages, her eyes growing wide with fear. Something about it is chilling, eerie and sharp. It’s the only sound in the night, a sound entirely out of place in its surroundings. The laughter is in no way the laughter of an innocent little girl. Instead, it is thin as mocking, and seems to be hiding someone older, someone that knows more than any child, any person for that matter, ever will. Suddenly, the warm house no longer feels safe. The temperature drops rapidly, sending a cold chill through the room. The quaint looking toys on the shelves no longer look childlike, their painted eyes seem to be staring, wide eyed and intelligent, as though they truly are alive, and watching. The curtain is blown by the wind, ruffling in the darkness. The moonlight slips through the glass into the dimly lit room, spilling onto the bedroom floor. The broken mirror across the room reflects the bright sphere in the sky, its image distorted by the long, ugly crack running down the middle of it. The moon is brighter than it should be, almost a stark white circle. The constant sound of waves outside slows, as though the ocean is waiting for what comes next.
    Something isn’t natural.
    Reyna notices this. Nothing feels the same, and she feels as though she’s in a complete stranger’s room. Everything is the same, but different. Everything she knows as familiar seems to have changed, seems to have transformed into something strange, as though it has shifted. The cloth doll that the girl has always seen as comical looks as though it knows everything about its owner, as if she actually has a mind. The thought makes her shiver. Maybe the doll does have a mind, one that has been watching her since the doll was sewed ten years ago. The mirror no longer reflects something she has seen outside her window for years, it looks out into a sort of parallel universe.
    She sees a face in the mirror for a moment, the face of someone else other than herself. She only catches a glimpse of it, but a pair of pale eyes, staring at her with a kind of cold amusement. They’re so pale Reyna could swear they were white. They’re too bright. The eyes are too intelligent and knowing. They aren’t human. This is all Reyna has time to catch before the face fades away, as if it’s only an apparition created by her imagination. But the girl knows it isn’t. Her imagination, as sharp as it is, can’t create something that vivid. She knows that for sure.
She hears the last traces of laughter, drowned out by the wind, still eerie and cruel. It fades until it’s nearly nothing. Reyna looks around anxiously, looking for the person that owns the eyes. No one’s there. It’s as though the eyes belonged to no one. She shivers and pulls her comforted closer to her, instinctively half shielding her eyes with the blanket as if the cloth can protect her from whatever is prowling in the night.
This is stupid, she thinks. I’m acting like I’m six again.
She picks up the flashlight and looks back at her book, staring at the faded yellow pages, at the messily scrawled words, the strong scent of ink that she has always loved reaching her nostrils. All the words are familiar, all of them the girl knows she can recite by heart. Normally, reading the book can take her mind off of anything. But not tonight. Impossible creatures dance in the sketches. creatures that Reyna knows can, and will, never happen. Deep eyed tigers with silver and gold pelts that spoke every language of the universe and can see the future, the neoani, animals made by humans entirely of metal, The watercolor drawings are so realistic Reyna could swear they were real. Almost. But magic doesn’t exist anymore. If there really is any left, the government will find a way to destroy it. Magic is dangerous. Magic is what tore the world apart.
Reyna tries to relax and allows the tension in her shoulders to be released. But it’s impossible. The room is as tense as Reyna is. Everything seems to be paused. Waiting for something.
Then a cool, chilling voice is right next to Reyna’s ear, her breath a numbing cold. It’s filled with amusement, with entertainment at Reyna’s fear. Reyna feels strand of hair brush across her cheek. It’s like the river after winter, the coldness of the snow still in the water.
“Keep quiet.”