Chapter 2

Aeliana's POV

Aeliana's POV

The beeping woke me first.

Steady. Like a clock ticking away time I couldn't remember. My eyes felt heavy, like someone had glued them shut while I slept. When I finally got them open, bright lights hit me like a slap.

Hospital. The clean smell, the pale walls, the rough sheets... yeah, definitely a hospital.

But why was I here?

I tried to sit up, and my head spun. Everything hurt, like I'd been hit by something big and mean. Not sharp pain, just this deep ache that went all the way to my bones.

"Oh, good, you're awake."

A woman in scrubs walked in, moving fast like she had a million things to do. Her name tag said ' Patricia,' and she had nice eyes behind her glasses.

"How are you feeling, honey?"

"Like crap." My voice sounded awful. Scratchy and weak. "What happened to me?"

She got that careful look people get when they're about to give you bad news. "What do you remember?"

That was the problem. I tried to think back, searching for anything that I could remember about how I got hurt. Where I lived. What my job was. What I had for dinner last night.

Nothing.

It was like someone had erased everything in my head. The harder I tried to remember, the more my head hurt.

"I don't..." I started, then stopped. My chest got tight, making it hard to breathe. "I can't remember anything. Not how I got here, not where I live, not even..."

Patricia moved closer. "It's okay. This happens sometimes when you hurt your head. The doctor wants to run more tests, but you're getting better fast."

Head injury. That made sense, I guess.

"How long have I been here?"

"Three days. Someone found you passed out on Route 87, about twenty miles here. No wallet, no purse, no car around." She looked at her chart. "Police ran your fingerprints, but nothing came up."

Found on a road. Just like that? Without any identifying material. That should have scared me more than it did. Instead, I felt... empty. Like I was listening to someone else's story.

"Has anyone..." I swallowed hard. "Has anyone come looking for me?"

The look on her face said it all.

Three days, and nobody had called the cops to report me missing. No one had called hospitals looking for someone like me. Whatever life I had before this room, nobody in it cared enough to notice I was gone.

That hurt worse than my headaches.

"The social worker will come by later," Patricia said. "There are programs that help people like you. Places to stay, help finding work..."

Charity. I was going to be someone's charity case.

The next few hours sucked. Doctors with fake smiles asking questions I couldn't answer. "What's your full name?" Aeliana, that's all I know, and that's because a voice at the back of my mind keeps nagging at me to remember it. "Any family we can call?" Can't remember. "Any health problems?" You tell me.

They did more tests. Blood work, more scans, stuff that made me feel like a science experiment. Through it all, I felt like I was watching someone else's life, not living my own.

The only real thing was this empty feeling in my chest. Not physical pain, but something worse. Like I was missing something important, but I didn't know what.

"Aeliana?"

I looked up from the gross hospital food to see an older woman in the doorway. She had gray hair in a bun and wore a sweater that looked homemade. Everything about her seemed warm and safe.

"I'm Margaret Ross," she said, walking in. "Most people call me Mrs. Ross. I heard you're having some trouble with your memory."

"That's putting it nicely." I put down my plastic fork. "Are you from social services?"

"Oh no, dear. I just heard about what happened and thought I might help." She sat down like she belonged there. "I run a bookstore in town, and I have a small place above it that's been empty for months. Too small for most people, but it might work for someone starting fresh."

Starting fresh. Those words hit me hard.

"I don't have money," I said straight out. "Or a job. Or any clue who I am except for a name on this hospital bracelet."

Mrs. Ross smiled. "Well, we'll figure it out as we go."

Her kindness almost made me cry. When was the last time a stranger was this nice to me? I couldn't think of any time, but then again, I couldn't think of much at all.

"Why?" The question came out before I could stop it. "Why help someone you don't know?"

She got quiet for a moment. "I lost my daughter about five years ago. Car crash. She was your age, and she always brought home strays. Hurt birds, cats that needed homes." She smoothed her sweater. "Helping you feels like doing something she would have done."

That empty feeling in my chest got bigger. This woman wanted to help me because I reminded her of her dead daughter. It should have felt wrong, like I was using her sadness. But it felt like the first real thing that had happened since I woke up.

"I don't know how to pay you back."

"Work in the shop. Help me with books, customers, and basic stuff. It's not fancy, but it's real work, and it'll give you time to figure out what comes next." She stood up. "The doctor says you can leave tomorrow if someone vouches for you."

"And you'd do that? For someone you just met?"

Mrs. Ross stopped at the door. "Honey, we're all strangers until we're not. And something tells me you're not as lost as you think. Sometimes we just need help finding our way back."

After she left, I lay there staring at the ceiling and trying to make sense of it. A woman I'd never met just offered me a job, a place to live, and a chance to start over.

It seemed too good to be true. People didn't really do stuff like this, did they?

But what choice did I have? The other option was whatever place the state stuck me in, and then... what? I had no skills I could think of, no one to vouch for me, no past to build on.

At least with Mrs. Ross, there would be books. For some reason, that thought made me feel better. Books were full of stories, whole worlds in pages. Maybe somewhere in all those books, I'd find something that felt familiar. Something that might help me figure out who I used to be.

Or I could find out who I could become instead.

That thought scared and excited me at the same time. What if the person I was before wasn't worth knowing? What if this blank slate was actually a good thing?

Outside my window, the sun was setting behind mountains that looked Beautiful, but empty of meaning.

I was about to close my eyes when I saw it.

A shadow moving between the trees at the edge of the parking lot. Too big to be a person. Too fluid to be a car. It paused at the tree line, and for a crazy second, I could have sworn it was looking right at me.

Then it was gone.

My heart hammered against my ribs for no reason I could name. Just a trick of the light, probably. Had to be.

But as I pulled the thin hospital blanket up to my chin, one thought kept circling through my empty head:

What if whatever I was running from had finally found me?