In His Mistress Body

Chapter 3

A bright white light pierced through my closing eyelids, and I could tell I was at the hospital. My eyelids grew heavier as the voices around me became a muffled tangle above my head.

“Please save her.” I picked my husband's voice out of the voices that floated around me. My head was throbbing and my heart throbbed too because I knew it wasn't me he was begging to be saved. Surely death would be nicer than the hell I was born in.

A hand touched me… was it him? I tried to speak; my mouth moved but nothing came out, not even a whisper. All I could do was twitch my fingers in response.

I blinked my eyes, desperate to talk to my husband one more time, but when I opened them back, the light had changed… no more muffled sounds, just a thick silence and a battle between death and life.

I wanted death to win, but then something happened. The lights started to flicker, the wind stronger and my body involuntarily started to shake and then I saw a shadow standing by the door.

“Who’s there?" I called out, my voice small and hoarse.

The figure finally stepped into the light and my eyes widened in shock. It was me. Battered, drenched in blood and my face almost unrecognizable.

“God" I whispered.

And then my body spoke to me but the voice sounded so different and so detached from me. It was Charlotte's.

“Even in death you still managed to cheat me" she said and turned around and slowly started to walk away.

I wanted to say something, but my body suddenly felt paralyzed; my lips frozen and my throat dry like sandpaper.

I could hear the sudden rapid beeping of a heart monitor, and each breath felt stolen, but suddenly the sound went flat. Somebody had died, but it wasn't me.

The world started to spin in front of my eyes, and my throbbing head started to pound in my ears. My body weakly sank into the bed as the pain slowly started to feel like nothing. My eyes weakly fluttered shut, and I felt a peaceful numbness envelope me. “Is this what death felt like?”

I guess out of everyone, death was the cruelest, giving me a taste of freedom and then snatching it back.

Then my eyes pried open, my fingers weakly twitching beside me, every joint aching from the awkward still position I had been in.

I blinked a few times trying to adjust to the lighting, and the first thing I saw was a nurse standing beside the IV stand and staring intensely at me with a huge smile.

“You're finally awake, Miss Riviera.”

My brain lagged, my mind yet to register anything as my tired eyes roamed about, absorbing my surroundings.

“I'll get the doctor.” She turned to leave, her shoes squeaking on the shining tile.

A few minutes later, she returned with a man, dark, tall, and looked to be in his forties. He had a white coat on, a file in hand, and a rehearsed smile on his face.

“Miss Riviera.” He strode to my bedside.

“Mrs Ellsworth,” I corrected; my voice cracked and small.

“Oh.” He nodded. “I didn't realize you were married to Mr Ellsworth.”

“Unfortunately,” I joked, but nobody laughed; not even a smile cracked.

“You have been in a coma for three months.” He cleared his throat.

“Three months?” my lips parted.

“Yes. Severe head trauma. Oxygen deprivation. We never thought you'd wake up.” He proceeded to look into a file in his hands, his voice calm and detached.

“We were careful with your face,” the doctor peeked at me from the glasses sitting on the tip of his nose. “We kept the scaring to a minimal and your nose looks just as before.” He said, signalling to the nurse to hand me a mirror.

“What career pa—?” I started to ask, but my voice got caught in my throat as I stared at the reflection in the mirror.

I blinked hard a few times,once, twice, and the third time a bit longer, but the reflection in the mirror didn't change.

My hand trembled as my eyes ran over my features.

A feature etched into my memory.

A face that never belonged to me.

“What have you done to my face?” I panicked, grabbing at my face and pulling on it.

They both exchanged a look: quiet, calm, and observant.

“Answer me,” I snapped aggressively, whipping my head toward them, and for the first time in a long time I felt something I hadn't.

Hair. Hair on my head.

I didn't have hair; I was bald. I had been for the past two years. I lost it all to cancer.

I reached for my head and tugged at the hair on my head. It was real.

Bringing it to my view, I immediately recognized the color; it was a fading cherry-brown color, a color accustomed to Charlotte.

“Why do I look like her?” I whispered, tears filling my eyes.

“Why is my face like hers?” I shook, evidently now, as beads of sweat formed on my forehead as I stared back at the mirror. “What have you done to me?”

“Mr Alejandro, your manager, he approved of the plastic surgery.” The nurse said, panic washing her features. “Your nose was totally damaged from the fall.”

“Manager?” I raised my eyebrows. “What are you on about… where is my sister?”

“Sister?” the doctor asked.

“Yes, the woman that was brought into the hospital with me,” I replied back, my patience wearing thin.

“Hope's dead, Charlotte,” I hear a voice from the doorway. It was Dylan. He looked different now and had a stubble on his chin. He walked in with long strides as if desperate to see me.

“What?” My eyebrows knitted, and Dylan's hand warmly took mine and squeezed it. I could see a hint of amusement in his eyes.

“How dare you?” I yanked my hand out of his furiously, and a sharp yelp escaped my throat as I ripped the IV from my hands in one brutal movement. Blood instantly trickled down my wrist.

Dylan’s eyes widened, panic washing over his features.

“Are you okay?” I was too stunned to say anything; my mouth hung open just looking at him fawn over me.

“Are you okay?” he asked again, as his hands wrapped against mine once more, sitting on the edge of the hospital bed with worry written all over his face. “Charlotte?”

The name pierced through my aching head.

“Charlotte?” I echoed back with narrowed eyes, my voice sharp and laced with disbelief.

“Yeah, what's wrong?” He genuinely sounded confused; it made me see red, he called me his mistress’ name and acted like nothing happened.

“Is this a f*****g joke to you?” My voice raised higher as I fought back the rage threatening to tear me apart.

“What are you on about, baby?” He asked with furrowed eyebrows.

“You know what you are…” I shook my head as tears began to fall easily. “You are f****d. You are f*****g fucked.”

“Charlotte—”

“Don't call me that.” My hands landed on his cheeks right before I could hold myself, and immediately an alarm blared down the hallway and nurses started rushing in.

Hurriedly I ran to the other side of the room. I spent years in the hospital; that alarm only sounded when a patient got violent.

Quickly I grabbed a scalpel from the metallic tray.

“f**k you, Dylan!” I yelled, threateningly holding the scalpel to my face as a nurse tried to approach me.

“I know what you did, Dylan.” I narrowed my eyes. “Your darling Charlotte couldn't survive the fall, and you… you turn me into her because you couldn't bear the loss.”

“Can you hear yourself?” Dylan replied, his voice gentle and soothing. “Baby, please put the object down.” He cooed like I was a child, taking one small step toward me.

“Don't you f*****g dare! Or I swear it, I'll ruin your darling mistress' face.”

Dylan shot a worried look to the doctor, and the doctor watched intensely at me.

“What's wrong with her?” he asked.

“You are what's wrong with me.” I erupted a wail from my trembling lips as my body began to weaken; I leaned against the wall for support.

I sobbed into my hands, feeling my resolve melt away, and quickly a nurse snatched the scalpel from my hands and stabbed a syringe into my arm.

“I'm not Charlotte,” my voice came out barely audible as I struggled against the hold of the nurses and the effect of the sedative.

“I'm Hope. I'm Hope Ellsworth.” My voice slurred, and soon my vision was covered with darkness.

“Doctor?" I hear Dylan's worried voice.

" We'll run some tests” I hear the doctor whisper to Dylan before my body gave out.