Chapter 2: Dead or Alive
1327 Words
Chapter 2: Dead or Alive
Pain.
It consumed every part of Elena's body.
A sharp ache shot through her head as consciousness slowly returned. The darkness that had surrounded her for what felt like an eternity began to fade, replaced by a faint glow of sunlight.
She tried to move.
Instantly, pain exploded through her ribs.
A weak groan escaped her lips.
"She's awake!"
The voice sounded distant.
Elena struggled to open her eyes.
The ceiling above her was wooden and unfamiliar. The air smelled of herbs and the sea. Confusion settled heavily inside her chest.
Where was she?
The last thing she remembered was—
Nothing.
A terrible emptiness filled her mind.
An elderly woman appeared beside the bed.
Relief flooded the woman's wrinkled face.
"Thank heavens."
Elena stared at her.
The stranger's silver hair was tied neatly into a bun. Her kind brown eyes softened as she gently placed a hand on Elena's forehead.
"Can you hear me?"
Elena swallowed painfully.
"Y-yes."
The old woman smiled.
"You've been unconscious for two days."
Two days?
Elena frowned.
What had happened?
Why couldn't she remember?
Fragments flashed through her mind.
A white dress.
A church.
Someone smiling.
Then darkness.
She winced.
The harder she tried to remember, the worse the headache became.
"Easy," the woman said softly.
"You need rest."
Elena looked around.
The room was small but cozy.
Simple furniture.
White curtains.
Fresh flowers resting on a nearby table.
It felt safe.
Yet something inside her screamed that she should be terrified.
"Who are you?" Elena asked.
"My name is Margaret."
The woman smiled gently.
"I found you on the beach."
"The beach?"
Margaret nodded.
"The storm carried you close to shore."
Elena's eyes widened.
A storm?
How had she ended up in the ocean?
Fear crawled through her veins.
She searched her memory desperately.
Nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
"What is your name, dear?"
The simple question froze her.
"My..."
Her voice faded.
Her heart began pounding.
What was her name?
She opened her mouth again.
Nothing came out.
Panic exploded inside her.
"I don't know."
The words sounded broken.
Terrified.
Margaret's expression fell.
"You don't remember?"
Elena shook her head.
Tears formed in her eyes.
"I don't remember anything."
The confession shattered her.
She couldn't remember her name.
Her family.
Her friends.
Nothing.
Her entire life had disappeared.
Margaret squeezed her hand reassuringly.
"It's alright."
"No."
Elena's voice cracked.
"It's not alright."
Tears slipped down her cheeks.
"Who am I?"
For a moment, neither woman spoke.
The silence felt unbearable.
Finally, Margaret sighed.
"You suffered a serious head injury."
Elena looked at her.
"Will my memories return?"
"I don't know."
The answer hit hard.
Elena turned away.
Outside the window, waves crashed against the shore.
Everything felt wrong.
Empty.
Broken.
As though she had awakened inside a stranger's life.
Hours later, Margaret brought soup.
Elena barely touched it.
Her thoughts remained trapped inside the same terrifying question.
Who was she?
Every attempt to remember resulted in frustration.
Nothing appeared.
No faces.
No names.
No childhood memories.
Nothing.
She felt like a ghost.
A person without a past.
Margaret placed a newspaper beside the bowl.
"I'll leave this here."
Elena nodded absentmindedly.
After the older woman left the room, Elena glanced toward the newspaper.
A large headline immediately caught her attention.
Her breath stopped.
BILLIONAIRE'S BRIDE FOUND DEAD AFTER TRAGIC ACCIDENT
Below the headline was a photograph.
A young woman.
Beautiful.
Long chestnut-brown hair.
Emerald-green eyes.
Elena stared.
The woman looked exactly like her.
The newspaper slipped from her trembling hands.
"No..."
Her heart raced violently.
She grabbed the paper again.
Reading every word.
According to the article, Elena Hart had fallen from a cliff on the night of her wedding.
Authorities believed she had died instantly.
A massive search operation had recovered pieces of her torn wedding dress near the rocks below.
No body had been found.
But everyone assumed she was dead.
Elena's entire body shook.
Elena Hart.
Was that her?
Was she the woman in the article?
The woman who supposedly died?
A sudden flash appeared inside her mind.
A white wedding gown.
Music.
A pair of gray eyes.
Cold.
Intense.
Watching her.
The image disappeared instantly.
Leaving behind a painful headache.
Elena grabbed her temples.
"Who am I?"
She whispered the question repeatedly.
But no answer came.
Meanwhile...
Miles away.
Blackwood Manor.
The atmosphere was suffocating.
Servants moved quietly through the enormous mansion.
No one dared make unnecessary noise.
Their master had become a different man.
Damien Blackwood stood before a wall covered in photographs.
Every picture showed Elena.
Laughing.
Smiling.
Looking away from the camera.
Living.
The woman everyone claimed was dead.
His jaw tightened.
For two days, police officers, investigators, and rescue teams had repeated the same conclusion.
Elena was gone.
Dead.
Lost to the ocean.
Damien refused to accept it.
His instincts screamed otherwise.
A knock interrupted his thoughts.
"Enter."
Marcus Hale stepped inside.
Damien's closest associate.
"The police report arrived."
Damien didn't turn around.
"What does it say?"
Marcus hesitated.
"The same thing."
Silence.
"They believe she died on impact."
Damien's expression darkened.
"No."
Marcus sighed.
"Damien—"
"No."
This time the word came out like a growl.
Damien finally turned.
His gray eyes burned with dangerous intensity.
"Someone killed her."
Marcus froze.
"You still think it wasn't an accident?"
Damien laughed bitterly.
"It wasn't."
His mind replayed the final conversation he had shared with Elena.
She had seemed distracted.
Afraid.
As though something was troubling her.
He should have noticed.
Should have pushed harder.
Should have protected her.
Guilt twisted inside his chest.
The feeling was unfamiliar.
Unwelcome.
But impossible to ignore.
Damien looked back at the photographs.
"I'll find whoever did this."
Marcus remained silent.
Because he knew Damien always kept his promises.
Even dangerous ones.
That night.
Elena couldn't sleep.
The article haunted her.
Elena Hart.
The name felt familiar.
Yet distant.
Like a dream she couldn't quite reach.
Moonlight filtered through the window.
She stared at the ceiling.
Trying desperately to remember.
Anything.
Everything.
Suddenly—
A flash.
A woman's face.
Blonde hair.
Blue eyes.
Smiling.
Then the smile twisted into something cruel.
Elena gasped.
The image vanished.
Her breathing quickened.
Who was that woman?
Why did seeing her make Elena feel afraid?
Questions multiplied.
Answers remained absent.
Exhausted, she closed her eyes.
But deep inside, a terrible feeling lingered.
Someone wanted her dead.
She didn't know why.
She didn't know who.
But she knew one thing.
The accident mentioned in the newspaper wasn't an accident at all.
And somewhere out there...
The person responsible believed she was dead.
For now.
Across the city, inside a luxurious penthouse apartment, another woman stared at a television screen.
Sophia Sinclair.
The news coverage of Elena's death continued playing.
Sophia smiled.
Everything had gone according to plan.
Elena was gone.
Damien would eventually move on.
And when he did...
He would finally belong to her.
Her phone suddenly rang.
Sophia answered.
"What?"
A nervous voice responded.
"We have a problem."
Her smile disappeared.
"What problem?"
A pause followed.
Then words that turned her blood cold.
"There are reports that Elena may have survived."
The glass in Sophia's hand shattered.
Her face drained of color.
"No."
"We're investigating."
Sophia's heartbeat accelerated.
Fear.
Pure fear.
If Elena was alive...
Everything was at risk.
The truth.
The murder.
The secrets.
All of it.
Sophia slowly stood.
Her expression hardening.
Then she whispered words that would change everything.
"Find her."
The man hesitated.
"And if she really survived?"
Sophia's eyes became ice.
"Then finish what I started."
Far away, Elena suddenly woke from a nightmare.
Her heart pounded violently.
For some reason, she felt as though danger was approaching.
Watching.
Waiting.
Hunting.
She didn't know who she was.
She didn't know where she came from.
But one thing was becoming clear.
Her past wasn't gone.
It was coming for her.
And when it arrived...
Nothing would ever be the same again.
- Writer
