The cold, sterile smell of antiseptic stung her nose as she slowly regained consciousness. Her eyelids fluttered open, the bright, fluorescent lights above her making everything blur for a moment. Her body ached—every inch of her felt heavy, like she was carrying a burden far too great for her slender frame. She couldn't recall what had happened, but the pain in her chest, the sharp memory of an impact, and the feeling of something being lost haunted her.
Where am I? She blinked, trying to focus on the sterile white walls surrounding her. The beeping of machines was a steady rhythm in the background, but it did little to soothe the panic creeping up her spine. Her hands felt weak as she moved them to her face, the cold sensation of the hospital sheets wrapping around her like a distant memory she couldn't quite grasp. The last thing she remembered was—no. Her mind was too foggy to put it all together. The accident. The crash.
Her breath hitched in her chest, and her pulse quickened.
"Hey, easy. You're safe now."
The voice came from somewhere to her right, soft and comforting, like it was trying to anchor her to the present. She turned her head slowly, trying to adjust to the motion, and saw a man standing by the door. He was in his forties, with a well groomed appearance dressed in a fine tailored suit and a worried expression on his face.
"Where…?" Her voice was weak, rough, as if she hadn't spoken in days.
The Man smiled gently, moving closer to her side. "You're in the hospital, sweetheart. You've been unconscious for a while. Do you remember what happened?"
Elena shook her head, trying to piece together the fragments of her past. There were flashes—a car crash, the sound of tires screeching, the metallic taste of fear in her mouth—but the details were hazy, slipping through her fingers like water.
"My name is Damian," the man said softly. "I'm your uncle. I'm sure you've been told already, but you're staying with me now. You've lost your parents."
The words hit her like a punch to the gut. Lost her parents. She blinked, struggling to understand. It couldn't be true, could it? The car crash, the accident—it wasn't supposed to be this way. She was supposed to—no, she couldn't remember what she was supposed to do. She felt lost, unmoored in a sea of confusion.
"I'm so sorry," Damian said, placing a hand gently on her arm. "You don't have to say anything right now. I know it's a lot to process."
But the pain of loss, the deep ache in her chest, was overwhelming. It felt like something was missing inside of her, and her mind struggled to make sense of it. How could she be here, in a hospital bed, with no memory of her life? She closed her eyes, letting the warmth of her uncle touch anchor her in the moment, even if she didn't fully understand it.
"I want to take you to our home when you're ready," Damian continued, his voice soothing. "We've got everything set up for you. You're going to be okay."
But the Elena wasn't sure she believed that. The word okay seemed like a distant dream, one that she couldn't quite touch. What did it mean to be okay, when everything she'd known, everything she'd loved, was gone?
---
Hours later, after being cleared by the doctors to leave, she found herself sitting in the back of a car, her head resting against the cold glass of the window. Damian sat beside her, occasionally glancing over, but for the most part, the ride was quiet. It was as if neither of them knew what to say. The air between them felt thick, uncomfortable, like they were strangers even though they shared blood.
The mansion loomed ahead as the car pulled up to the large gates. Elena could see the sprawling grounds—manicured lawns, tall trees casting long shadows in the fading afternoon light. It was a picture of wealth and stability, but all she felt was unease. She couldn't shake the feeling that she didn't belong here, that she was trespassing in a world that had never been hers.
When the car stopped, Damian helped her out, and the moment her feet touched the cobbled driveway, the cold air hit her like a slap. She wrapped her arms around herself instinctively, suddenly aware of how vulnerable she felt in this unfamiliar place.
Inside, the house was just as grand as the outside. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceilings, and the floors were polished to a shine, the scent of expensive furniture wafting through the air. It was beautiful, but to her, it felt like a prison—too pristine, too perfect. She didn't know how to make herself fit into this world, or even how to breathe in it.
Damian led her through the marble halls, her footsteps echoing in the vast emptiness. Elena's gaze wandered over the artwork hanging on the walls—paintings of landscapes, portraits of people she didn't recognize. She was too distracted by the overwhelming sense of being out of place to truly appreciate the beauty around her.
"Here we are," Damian said, stopping in front of a door. He opened it slowly, revealing a large room with soft, muted colors and a king-sized bed in the center. A large window provided a view of the sprawling grounds outside. It was a peaceful room, a place for rest, but it all felt cold to the Elena. The softness of the bed seemed foreign, and she wasn't sure she could lie down in it, not with all the questions swirling in her head.
"Your things are already here," Damian said, gesturing to a dresser and a few bags by the bed. "I'll leave you to settle in. We can talk more later, okay?"
Elena nodded absentmindedly, unsure of what to say. She barely even noticed her uncle leave the room, the door closing softly behind him.
Left alone, she stood in the middle of the room, feeling like she was suspended in some strange limbo. There was no going back to the life she'd known, no reclaiming what had been taken from her. The world she had once been a part of was slipping away like grains of sand in the wind.
Suddenly, a voice interrupted her thoughts, and she spun around, her heart leaping in her chest.
"You must be the new girl."
The male voice was laced with an unmistakable arrogance, and as she turned, she saw a figure leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest. He was a few years older than her, with messy black hair that seemed to fall in waves around his face. He wore a school uniform—dark trousers and a white shirt—but there was something about him that screamed rebellion. His posture was casual, but there was a tension in his gaze, a look of someone who didn't particularly care about what people thought.
"And you must be the cousin," she said, her voice coming out more sharp than she intended. She didn't have the energy to deal with anyone right now, least of all a boy who was clearly looking for trouble.
He raised an eyebrow. "Dad told me you'd be here. Name's Nate."
"I'm…" She hesitated, unsure if she should even share her name yet. Her past felt like a different lifetime. "It's… fine."
He didn't seem to care about her hesitations. "Right, whatever. You probably don't care, but I'm just here to let you know that living here isn't going to be easy." His tone was dismissive, almost like he found it amusing.
She looked at him, narrowing her eyes. "What does that mean?"
"Just be careful." He shrugged and stepped aside, pushing his hands into his pockets. "We don't get along here. You'll figure it out soon enough."
With that, he turned and walked away, leaving her standing in the center of the room, feeling more alone than ever.
Lucas stood awkwardly at the edge of the living room, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie. He noticed Elena sitting by the window, staring out at the yard, her gaze distant. It was clear she was lost in thought, the weight of everything that had happened still lingering. He couldn't quite imagine what it must feel like for her, especially with the memory loss she was still trying to piece together. He didn't know much about her life before the accident, but he knew it couldn't be easy.
Clearing his throat, he took a few hesitant steps toward her. "Hey, um," he began, his voice uncertain but genuine. "I'm Lucas. Your cousin."
Elena turned her head, her eyes briefly meeting his, her expression unreadable. She blinked, as though trying to recall something, but then simply nodded. "Hi."
Lucas shifted uncomfortably, his guilt rising. "I just wanted to, you know, apologize for Noah. He's been kind of a jerk lately."
Elena's brow furrowed slightly, though it was clear she didn't quite understand the full context. "Is he always like that?"
Lucas winced, the weight of his words settling in. "Not always. He can be cool, but… well, something's been bugging him. I don't want you to think we're all like that. I'm not like him."
Elena's expression softened, her eyes still distant but warmer now. She gave him a small nod, her voice quiet. "I get it. It's fine."
Lucas let out a relieved breath, the tension in his shoulders easing. A small, genuine smile tugged at his lips. "Thanks. I just didn't want you to think we're all rude."
----
The first night in the house passed in a blur of restless thoughts. She couldn't sleep, tossing and turning in the unfamiliar bed, her mind racing with questions that had no answers. She kept thinking of the crash, of her parents, of the world that had been taken from her in an instant.
Was this her new life? Was this what her future held now? She could hardly bear the thought.