Chapter 2: Flickers

A symphony of repetitive beeps and low-frequency hums woke me. My eyelids felt glued shut, heavy as lead. I lifted a hand to wipe the crusty sleep from my eyes, but a sudden voice startled me. I tried to shift upright in the bed, trembling with effort—but my strength gave out, and I collapsed back against the pillows. The brightness of the room was blinding, so I shut my eyes again, shielding myself.

“Nurse Joy! Please grab Doctor Law, she’s awake!” a familiar voice pleaded, quivering as if on the verge of tears.

I tried to move; an arm, a finger, anything. Nothing. Panic clawed at me as the beeping grew faster, then was interrupted by a soothing voice.

“Lottie, it’s okay. You’re gonna be okay… Nurse Joy, please hurry!”

A hand grasped mine gently, planting a soft kiss on it, followed by a reassuring squeeze. Lottie? Only one person called me that. Dad? Why was he here? Why was I in the hospital?

I squinted, forcing my vision into focus. My throat felt like sand; I croaked when I tried to speak.

“Good morning, Mrs. Varden. I’m Nurse Joy. I’ll do some observations, but first—please have some water.”

She held a cup under my chin with a straw. I sucked it down with all my strength, ignoring my usual preference for ice-cold water. A second cup, and I managed to croak,

“Dad… what happened?”

He cleared his throat, but Nurse Joy interrupted politely.

“Apologies, Mr. Hawkins, I just need to confirm a few details with Charlotte.”

I nearly dozed off but clung to consciousness, catching the end of her question.

“…and your date of birth, please?”

“Charlotte Hawkins… 31st May 1997,” I murmured.

“Hmmm, I guess your maiden name will have to—”

Memories hit me like a hammer: those eyes dimming, Vance, Anya… panic surged. The beeps quickened, matching my pounding heart, before darkness swallowed me again.

I woke again, betrayal still fresh in my mind. Fully conscious, yet trapped in a motionless body, I tried to move, squeeze my toes, grit my teeth—anything to warn Dad about Vance and Anya. Every attempt failed.

I heard my father speaking in hushed tones to someone—likely his right-hand man, James.

“I refuse to leave my daughter. My company can wait.”

“And why was a meeting called?”

“And what gives him the right?”

“Well, you tell Mr. Varden that my daughter is no longer missing and is very much alive.”

“Is that all?”

Did I hear that right? Relief and panic collided before I began to fade again.

A sudden thud and heavy, quickened footsteps jolted me awake. My throat still felt dry, and I tried to swallow.

“My love! You’re okay! We’ve been searching for weeks!”

I froze, heart hammering. Forcing my eyelids open just enough to focus, my heart dropped.

Vance. Fucking Varden.

He stood at the edge of the bed, his icy blue eyes locked on me. Goosebumps crawled across my skin. I tried to cry out, to warn Dad, to move—anything—but my body betrayed me.

I snapped my eyes shut immediately, the bright hospital lights stinging. Panic surged, a wave of dread rolling through my gut. I couldn’t breathe properly, couldn’t move, couldn’t protect myself. And yet… I could sense movements around the room.

A faint shift of shadow near the doorway caught my attention—not fully visible, but enough to register that someone else was there. My body was paralyzed, but something about the presence suggested they weren’t here to harm me. Perhaps… they would matter later.

I blinked against the light, heart hammering, and slipped once more into unconsciousness, the beeping monitors echoing in my ears like a countdown.