Chapter 1: Waking Up
Isabella's POV
The first thing I notice is the taste—copper pennies on my tongue, metallic and bitter.
Then the light hits me. Harsh. Fluorescent. It stabs through my eyelids like needles. I flinch, but my limbs barely move. My body feels foreign, disconnected, like I’ve woken up wearing someone else’s skin.
“She’s awake.”
A voice. Clinical. Unfamiliar.
I force my eyes open, squinting against the glare. The ceiling above me is white, cracked, and water-stained. The air smells like disinfectant mixed with something old and decaying. Hospital.
I’m in a hospital.
“Can you hear me, sweetheart?”
A woman leans over me. Her face is round, kind. Wisps of graying hair spill from a messy bun. Her scrubs are printed with tiny cartoon cats.
“I’m Nurse Patricia. You’ve been sleeping for a very long time.”
Sleeping?
The word feels wrong in my mind. Too soft. Too harmless.
I try to speak, but all I manage is a dry croak. My throat burns like sandpaper.
“Here, small sips.”
She lifts a plastic cup to my lips. The water is cool and sharp, like rain after a drought.
“That’s it. Easy does it.”
“Where…” I whisper, my voice barely audible. “Where am I?”
“Saint Mary’s General Hospital,” she says gently.
“You’ve been with us for quite a while.”
Her smile is warm, but her eyes say something else—concern, maybe. Pity.
“Do you remember anything?”
Fragments flash through my mind—
A car.
Rain.
Headlights. Screeching brakes.
And then—
Nothing.
Until one word breaks free from the darkness:
“Vivian…”
Nurse Patricia nods, misunderstanding.
“That’s right, you’re Vivian Quinn. You were in an accident, honey. A bad one. But you’re going to be okay now.”
“No.” I try to sit up, panic spiking through me. “No—I’m not Vivian. I’m Isabella. Vivian’s my sister!”
Her expression shifts slightly, but she keeps her tone calm.
“Take it easy. You’ve just woken up. Let’s not strain anything.”
“What day is it?” I ask, heart pounding. “How long have I been here?”
There’s a beat of silence before she answers.
“It’s March 15th, 2024.”
I blink. That can’t be right.
“You’ve been in a coma for two years.”
The words hit me like a blow to the chest.
Two years.
“No,” I whisper. “That’s not possible…”
“I know it’s a shock,” she says, adjusting the IV beside my bed.
“The doctors will explain everything. You suffered a severe head injury. We weren’t sure you’d ever wake up.”
Two years.
Two years of lost time.
Of silence.
Of nothing.
But even worse than that—if it’s really been two years…
“Where’s my sister?” My voice is stronger now, full of dread. “Vivian—does she know I’m awake?”
Nurse Patricia’s smile fades. Her eyes go carefully blank.
“Let’s focus on you right now, okay? We need to run a few tests, make sure everything’s working properly upstairs.”
She taps her temple lightly, avoiding the question.
But I feel it.
The silence.
The absence.
Something’s wrong.
And I’m going to find out what.
