Rain's eyes fluttered open to the soft, persistent beeping of a heart monitor. The sound was steady and rhythmic, an anchor pulling her back into awareness. Blinking slowly, she tried to make sense of her surroundings, her vision still hazy.
She wasn't in the hospital room she'd known all her life.
Her eyes roamed across the unfamiliar space. The walls were a soft cream color, adorned with delicate garlands of holly and miniature wreaths. Twinkling Christmas lights were strung along the window frame, casting a warm glow that danced across the polished floors. A small Christmas tree stood in the corner, its ornaments shimmering in the dim light.
"What… what is this place?" she murmured, her voice hoarse and dry.
Her heart raced as fragments of memory returned to her—her struggle for breath, her mother's frantic prayers, and the crushing pain that had pulled her under. She remembered the moment she let go, the tear that had slipped down her cheek as the world faded to black.
"I died," Rain whispered, her throat tightening. "I'm… dead?"
She glanced down at her hands, flexing her fingers experimentally. They moved easily, no stiffness or pain to hinder her. She lifted the covers and swung her legs over the side of the bed, expecting the familiar ache in her joints to flare up. But there was nothing.
Her legs felt strong, stable, as if they belonged to someone else. She wiggled her toes, marveling at how effortless it felt. For the first time in as long as she could remember, her body wasn't a prison.
But then she touched her head and winced, her fingers brushing against a thick bandage wrapped tightly around her scalp. A sharp, throbbing pain radiated from her skull.
"Pain?" she whispered, panic creeping into her voice. "How can I feel pain if I'm dead?"
Her heart thudded in her chest as the implications hit her. Was she alive? Somehow, impossibly alive?
Rain stood, her feet finding the cold floor. She took a cautious step, then another, her movements steady despite the dull ache in her head. The heart monitor beeped faster, reflecting her rising anxiety.
She shuffled toward the door, her hospital gown brushing against her legs. Her fingers curled around the doorknob, and she hesitated, her thoughts racing. What if this wasn't real? What if opening the door led to something worse than death?
Taking a deep breath, she twisted the knob and pulled.
The hallway beyond was nothing like the sterile, bleak corridors of the public hospital she had known. This one was bright and inviting, the walls painted in soothing pastel tones. Christmas decorations lined the hallway—garlands, twinkling lights, and snowflake decals on the glass panels. Nurses moved briskly but cheerfully, their faces kind and calm as they attended to patients.
Rain stepped out cautiously, her bare feet against the polished floor feeling surreal. She turned her head, trying to make sense of where she was. The hospital felt warm and alive, not cold and clinical like the one she'd been in before.
"Excuse me, miss," a cheerful voice called out.
Rain turned sharply, startled by the sound. A nurse with a clipboard approached her, her auburn hair pulled back into a neat ponytail. She wore a festive pin shaped like a Christmas tree on her scrubs.
"You shouldn't be out of bed just yet," the nurse said, her tone gentle but firm. "You've been through quite the ordeal."
Rain blinked, her lips parting but no words coming out. Her head spun with questions, but none seemed easy to articulate.
"Where… where am I?" she finally managed.
The nurse's expression softened. "You're in St. Helena's Memorial Hospital. You were brought here after your accident. Do you remember what happened?"
Rain stared at her, confusion and panic rising in her chest. Accident? What accident? She remembered dying, not an accident.
"I… I don't understand," Rain stammered. "I was... I was in another hospital. I was sick. I—" She paused, her hand going to her chest as realization dawned. "I had sickle cell anemia. But now…"
Her words trailed off as she realized how different her body felt. The constant, gnawing pain that had been her companion for as long as she could remember was gone. Her joints didn't ache. Her chest didn't feel tight. Even her breathing was steady and easy.
The nurse smiled kindly. "You've been through a lot, but you're safe now. Why don't we get you back to your room? You really shouldn't be on your feet yet."
"No!" Rain said, louder than she intended. "I need to know what's going on. Where's my mother? Mary Johnson. Is she here? Does she know I'm here?"
The nurse frowned slightly, glancing at her clipboard. "I'm afraid I don't have any information about your family. But I can call your manager, she just stepped out few minutes ago.
Rain froze as the nurse gently stepped in her path, her smile polite but firm.
"Miss Stone," the nurse said softly, "you really need to rest. We don't want to jeopardize your recovery, and besides, we wouldn't want your fans to overwhelm the hospital."
Rain's eyebrows shot up in confusion. "Fans? What fans are you talking about?"
The nurse's expression faltered, as if realizing she'd said something she shouldn't have. She opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, a voice pierced the hallway.
"Amara!"
Rain turned her head to see a young woman rushing toward her. She was Latina, with dark, wavy hair that cascaded down her back and large, expressive brown eyes that were wide with a mix of worry and irritation. She wore stylish, ripped jeans and an oversized sweater, and her jewelry clinked softly as she moved.
Rain blinked, taken aback by the girl's presence and the urgency in her voice. Before she could speak, the girl stopped a few feet away, planting her hands on her hips.
"What are you doing standing out here?" the girl demanded, her tone a mix of exasperation and panic. "Are you serious right now? After everything that just happened, you're wandering around like nothing's wrong?"
Rain opened her mouth to respond, but the girl barreled on, not giving her a chance.
"I was freaking out when I heard you'd been admitted! Do you know how many people are calling me, asking what happened? And here you are, looking like you've already forgotten everything!"
Rain felt her head spinning, the girl's words hitting her like rapid-fire bullets. She couldn't keep up with what she was saying, but one sentence stood out like a neon sign.
"Did you really want to kill yourself?"
Rain's breath hitched, her confusion deepening. Her chest tightened, and her voice came out as a whisper. "What did you just say?"
The girl stopped, her arms dropping to her sides. Her expression shifted, a mixture of frustration and hurt flashing across her face. "Don't play dumb with me, Amara. You know exactly what I'm talking about."
Rain shook her head, her voice trembling. "Do you… know me?"
The girl's eyes narrowed, her frustration mounting. "Is this another one of your stunts? Pretending you don't know me now? That's low, even for you."
Rain's heart pounded as she stared at the girl, trying to piece together the puzzle of her words. "I don't understand. What do you mean I tried to kill myself? And why are you calling me Amara? My name is Rain."
The girl's eyes widened slightly, but then her expression hardened again. She crossed her arms, her gaze filled with disbelief and disappointment.
"You really think I'm going to fall for this?" she said, her voice quieter but no less intense. "You've been acting reckless for weeks, and now you're pulling this? What's your angle, huh? Sympathy? Attention?"
Rain felt the weight of the girl's words pressing down on her, but she couldn't respond. She didn't have the answers to the questions swirling in her own mind, let alone the ones this stranger was hurling at her.
Without another word, she turned and walked back into her hospital room, shutting the door firmly behind her. The noise from the hallway faded, leaving her alone with her thoughts and the soft beeping of the heart monitor.
Rain leaned against the door, her legs trembling. Her chest rose and fell with deep, shaky breaths as she tried to make sense of what had just happened.
"Amara," she whispered to herself, the name foreign on her tongue. "Why did she call me that?"
She pushed off the door and moved toward the small mirror above the sink. The sight that greeted her stole her breath.
The reflection staring back at her wasn't hers.
Rain stumbled backward, her hand flying to her mouth. The face in the mirror was beautiful—flawless caramel skin, full lips, high cheekbones—but it wasn't her face. The bandages around her head framed silky, chestnut-brown hair that tumbled past her shoulders.
She took a shaky step forward, her hand trembling as she reached out to touch her reflection. The movement matched perfectly, confirming what she already feared.
This wasn't her body.
Rain's knees gave out, and she sank to the cold floor, her mind racing.
"What is happening?" she whispered, tears streaming down her face. "Who am I?"
She closed her eyes, trying to piece together the fragments of her reality. She had been Rain Johnson, a sick girl confined to a hospital bed for most of her life. She remembered her mother's face, her voice filled with worry and love. She remembered the pain, the struggles, the longing for a life she couldn't have.
And she remembered dying.
So how was she here, alive in someone else's body?
Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. Rain didn't move, too overwhelmed to respond. The door creaked open, and the same nurse from before peeked inside.
"Miss Amara. Are you okay?"
Rain looked up, her tear-streaked face filled with desperation. "Who am I?" she asked, her voice breaking.
The nurse's expression softened, and she stepped into the room, closing the door behind her. She knelt beside Rain, her tone gentle. "You're Amara Stone. You've been through a lot, but you're safe now. You just need time to heal."
Rain shook her head, her tears falling faster. "I'm not Amara. My name is Rain Johnson. I was sick. I… I died."
The nurse's brow furrowed, concern etched into her features. "You've had a traumatic experience," she said carefully. "It's not uncommon to feel disoriented. But I promise you, you're Amara Stone. You've been admitted here after an accident."
"Accident," Rain repeated, the word bitter on her tongue. "That's what they keep saying. But I don't remember any accident. I don't remember anything."
The nurse hesitated, then reached out to place a comforting hand on Rain's shoulder. "You don't have to figure everything out right now. Just take it one step at a time. Rest, and let us help you."
Rain nodded numbly, her mind too clouded to argue. The nurse helped her back to the bed, adjusting the blankets around her.
"If you need anything, just press the call button," the nurse said softly before leaving the room.
Rain lay back against the pillows, staring up at the ceiling. The name "Amara Stone" echoed in her mind, a name she didn't recognize but was now supposed to embody.
Her thoughts drifted to the young Latina woman from the hallway, the way she'd looked at Rain with such frustration and hurt.
"Did you really want to kill yourself?"
The question gnawed at Rain, filling her with unease. What kind of life had this "Amara" lived? What had brought her to this moment?
Rain's hand moved to the bandage on her head, her fingers tracing the edges. She felt like an imposter in her own skin—or rather, in someone else's.
"I don't know who I am," she whispered into the empty room, her voice cracking.
But one thing was clear: if she was going to make sense of this new life, she would have to uncover the truth about Amara Stone—and how she had come to inhabit her body.