SINNER OR SAINT: the alpha’s twin bride

       ~ AWAKENING~

Pain erupts through me. Every nerve, every muscle, screams as two men in black suits beat me relentlessly.

I choke on my own blood, trying to croak, “Please, I won’t tell anyone… just spare me.”

They do not stop. One leans close, a cruel smirk twisting his lips.

“We’re only doing what we were told,” he says. The other watches with cold, wicked eyes, as if they are enjoying my suffering.

I try to crawl away, but my body trembles and fails me. A sharp, bone crushing blow connects with the back of my head, an iron chair swinging down. 

Darkness sweeps over me, relentless and devouring.

Pain claws through me, and for a fleeting second, I think I am alive. My body stirs, my chest rises with a ragged breath, and hope flares, I could survive this. But then my eyes catch a sight that makes me freeze in terror.

 I see myself, lying on the floor, bloodied and motionless. That’s when it hit me that I’m dead. 

The men grin, dragging my body toward a dark bag.

 A deafening bell rings in my ears, slicing through every thought. Everything fades to white.

The next moment, I am somewhere else entirely. A strange, sterile room, yet it was unlike any hospital I have ever seen. 

Strange runes glimmer faintly on the walls, etched in patterns that seem almost alive. 

Two couples sit nearby, comforting each other, whispering words I can’t catch. On a bed lies a girl, lifeless and still, she looks exactly like me.

Confusion grips me.

I try to move, but my body is weak. I try to think, anything but my mind is blank. Who am I? Where am I? Every thought dissolves before it even forms.

I open my mouth to speak, but the words feels strange.

Two figures lean over me. Shock and relief flash across their faces.

“She’s awake! Clary… she’s alive!” one cries.

I cough violently, gasping. Clary?

The name feels strange on my tongue. “I… Clary?” I murmur, voice trembling and weak.

They exchange glances. “Yes, you’re Clary,” the woman says, placing a trembling hand on my forehead.

I stare at her, blank, nothing inside me connecting to the name, to the face, to anything. “Who… who are you?”

“We’re your parents,” the woman says softly, concern and guilt in her voice. “Clary… we are sorry.”

The man’s eyes dart toward the door. “Doctor Karl!” he shouts, running off.

The woman’s hand stays on my forehead, grounding me in a world that feels weird. Moments later, the man returns with a tall figure in a pristine white coat.

“I’m Doctor Karl,” he says, approaching with calm authority. “You’ve suffered extreme trauma. Your memories, may not be present right now. That is normal.”

I blink, mind a blank canvas. “Memories?” I whisper, uncertainty and fear rising.

“Yes,” he says gently. “Right now, you may not remember who you are or who you were. That will return in time. You have survived something extraordinary, and your body, your abilities… will aid your recovery.”

I look at him, trying to understand, but the words make no sense. Abilities? Recovery? Every concept feels new. I don’t know this world. I don’t know myself.

Doctor Karl studies me carefully. “You are not ordinary. You belong to a world most cannot even imagine. You survived. That alone proves your strength. In time, you will understand why you are here, and what you are meant to be.”

I glance at the bed again. The lifeless girl, the body I had been. Confusion churns inside me, along with a strange, unplaceable fear. My hands feel heavy. My head throbs. Everything is a blank slate.

My parents exchange worried glances. “Clary… do you remember anything?” the woman asks, voice trembling.

I shake my head. Nothing comes. There is no flicker of recognition, no hint of understanding. Only the raw, confusing present, the pain, the fear, and the strange new sensations coursing through my body.

“It’s okay, child,” the woman whispers, tightening her grip on my hand. “You’re safe now. You’re here with us.”

Doctor Karl nods. “Memory will return in fragments first, then whole. For now, focus on your body. You are stronger than most, and that strength will carry you through this. In time, your mind will follow.”

The ringing of the bells in my head slowly fades, replaced by a low, humming awareness. Doctor Karl leans closer. “Rest, Clary. Your body has endured much. Healing comes first. The rest… comes in time.”

I nod, weakly, letting the fog of confusion pull me down. I have no memory of my life, no idea who I was, no understanding of what comes next. 

I close my eyes tightly, praying, begging that this is a nightmare. That I’ll wake up somewhere familiar, my memories intact, my life whole again. I cling to that hope with everything inside me.

Maybe when I open my eyes, I will remember who I am.

Maybe everything strange and terrifying will fade and I will belong somewhere.

But nothing comes back. Not a name, not a face, not a single moment from before waking up to strangers calling me Clary.

I try again the next day. And the next. And the next.

Each time I open my eyes, my hope shatters in the same quiet way.

Days pass, slowly at first, then faster as my body heals. Doctor Karl says it’s remarkable, but I don’t feel remarkable. I feel empty. Lost. Like a blank page in someone else’s book.

The bruises fade. The cuts seal. Strength returns to my muscles as if pulled from something deep inside me, something I still don’t understand.

Everyone keeps telling me to rest. To be patient. That my memories will return when I’m ready. But lying here, waiting for a life I can’t remember to claim me, feels like drowning in silence.