Annabelle's world was a chaos of white light and shrieking sirens, the gurney rattling beneath her, blood sticky and warm on her skin. Emma's voice pierced the haze, desperate and raw—
"Anna! Stay with me, please—don't go—"
But the world was slipping away, and with every jolt down the corridor, another reality pressed in. Cold stone beneath her knees. The scent of burning sage and fear. She was running, not through a hospital, but through shadowed halls, silk and ash trailing behind her as another self—Ivory—called out, "Wait! Please, let me help you!"
The boy darted ahead, his nightshirt a pale blur in the torchlight. Shadows chased him, hungry and alive. In the hospital, Annabelle's chest heaved, her pulse a frantic staccato under the paramedic's hands.
"BP's dropping! We're losing her!"
"Don't let them take me!" the boy screamed, his voice overlapping Emma's sobs.
Ivory skidded to her knees, reaching for the boy as the darkness seized him, tendrils wrapping around his ankles. The golden orb of his soul flickered in his chest, trembling and bright, and as Annabelle's body convulsed on the hospital bed, Ivory pressed her hands to the boy's heart, willing him to stay.
Emma's hand gripped Annabelle's, grounding her in the world of blood and sirens. "Anna, don't you dare leave me—"
The boy's soul began to unravel, pulled by the shadows in twisting, luminous threads. His body arched, his scream high and shattering, echoing down the stone corridor and through the hospital walls. Annabelle's lips parted in a silent cry, her vision filling with gold and lilac light.
Ivory's power surged, her own skin fracturing, cracks of violet racing up her arms. She poured herself into the boy, her essence bleeding into his, but the darkness was relentless, wrenching the last strand of his soul free. The hospital's alarms screamed in time with the boy's howl.
"Code Blue! Crash cart—now!"
"Please!" Ivory's voice broke, her body dissolving into motes of lilac light.
Annabelle's heart stuttered, monitors shrilling, her consciousness fraying at the edges. She felt herself disintegrating, her body breaking apart, her soul flickering—a mirror to the boy's final, desperate cry.
For a heartbeat, both worlds filled with light—lilac and gold swirling, memory and regret entwined. Then darkness surged, swallowing everything, and Annabelle hovered in the void, both girl and queen, both savior and failure.
And then—
Silence.
A void, black and endless.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Annabelle's return to consciousness was slow, like surfacing from the bottom of a deep, dark lake. At first there was only the steady, distant beeping of a heart monitor, a faint antiseptic tang, and the sensation of heavy, unmoving limbs. She drifted in this half-state for what felt like hours, the world pressing in on her from all sides—muffled voices, the rustle of sheets, the faint, rhythmic hiss of a machine.
Gradually, the voices sharpened, drawing her up from the depths.
"She's moving—look, her hand—"
"Is she waking up? Go get the nurse. No, wait, don't leave, what if she wakes up and no one's here?"
"Riley, breathe. She's not going to vanish."
Annabelle's eyelids fluttered. Her mouth was dry, her throat raw. She tried to swallow, but it was as if she'd forgotten how. She felt a gentle squeeze on her fingers—Emma's hand, she realized, familiar and warm.
"Anna? Anna, it's Emma. You're safe. You're in the hospital."
A rush of sensations hit her: the ache in her ribs, the dull throb in her left leg, the tightness across her chest and shoulder. Everything hurt, but it was a distant, floating kind of pain, as if her body belonged to someone else.
She tried to open her eyes. The world remained dark.
A commotion at the door—footsteps, the swish of a white coat—and then a calm, measured voice.
"Annabelle? I'm Dr. Abrams. You've been unconscious for three days. You were in a serious accident, and you've sustained multiple injuries: a fractured rib, a broken leg, a dislocated shoulder, some internal bruising. We had to operate to stop the bleeding and stabilize your leg. You're going to be in recovery for a while."
Annabelle listened, numb, the words washing over her. She felt the bandages on her head, the stiffness in her limbs, the dull ache that seemed to radiate from everywhere at once.
"You're very lucky," the doctor continued gently. "But there was also trauma to your eyes. The impact caused a severe injury to the optic nerves. We did everything we could, but… Annabelle, I need you to know that you're currently blind."
The words hung in the air, heavy and final. Annabelle's breath caught. She reached up, fingertips brushing her cheeks, her brow, the bandages around her head. She tried to blink away the darkness, but nothing changed.
She didn't ask to see. She didn't demand the bandages off. She just lay there, silent, as the truth settled into her bones. Blind. The word echoed inside her, cold and sharp.
A hush fell over the room. She could sense Emma's tears, Riley's anxious shifting, Priya's breath held tight in her chest. Even the doctor seemed to hesitate, unsure what comfort to offer.
And then, without warning, the world slipped sideways.
The steady beep of the heart monitor slowed, the voices around her faded into a distant murmur, and Annabelle was pulled into a darkness deeper than any physical blindness.
Suddenly, she was somewhere else.
She knelt on cold stone beneath a vaulted ceiling, the air thick with incense and dread. Lilac eyes burned fiercely in the dim light as Ivory—the queen she once was—looked down at the trembling faces before her. The weight of a shattered crown pressed on her brow, her hands stained with the blood of a thousand sins.
"You spill blood for power," the eldest Fate intoned, her voice like grinding bone. "Now, you will spill tears for redemption."
Ivory's voice cracked with desperation. "I did not know. I did not understand. Please, do not curse me—"
"You will bear these eyes in every life," the second Fate said coldly. "You will see the pain you caused."
The third Fate's cruel smile was the last thing Ivory saw as their hands closed over her eyes, searing a curse into her soul.
A sharp wave of pain crashed through Annabelle's head. Her breath hitched. The hospital room snapped back into focus, but the darkness behind her eyelids was now a living nightmare.
She gasped, vision failing her completely, and with a soft, helpless sound, she fainted.
The room erupted into chaos.
"Get the nurse! She's fainted!"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She woke to the sound of laughter—bright, overlapping, and distinctly chaotic.
"…I mean, if she's going to sleep for three days, the least she could do is dream us up a winning lottery ticket," Riley was saying, their voice full of mock outrage.
"Or at least a better hospital playlist," Priya chimed in. "If I have to listen to 'Careless Whisper' one more time, I'm going to start diagnosing myself with George Michael Syndrome."
Ben's deep voice joined in, deadpan as ever. "I'm just impressed none of you tried to sneak in a pizza. Or a ferret. Or both."
Emma snorted. "Please. If anyone's smuggling in animals, it's Riley. I saw you eyeing that therapy dog like it was a limited-edition plushie."
Riley gasped, feigning innocence. "Excuse you, I was simply admiring the fur-to-ear ratio. For science."
Priya rolled her eyes. "Yeah, and I'm the Queen of England."
Ben grinned. "Your Majesty, shall I fetch your crown?"
"Only if it comes with fries," Priya replied, and the group dissolved into giggles.
Annabelle let the sound wash over her, a warm tide pulling her gently back to shore. She shifted, wincing as pain flared in her ribs and leg. The laughter stopped instantly.
"Anna?" Emma's voice was soft, hopeful.
Annabelle managed a small, lopsided smile. "If this is the afterlife, it's a lot louder than I expected."
A collective sigh of relief swept the room.
Riley leaned in, voice trembling with exaggerated emotion. "Don't ever do that again, Picasso. I aged at least ten years."
Ben chimed in, "You? Priya started googling 'how to perform a séance with hospital Jell-O.'"
Priya huffed. "It was for research purposes."
Emma squeezed Annabelle's hand, her own voice thick with tears and laughter. "Welcome back, troublemaker. You scared us."
Annabelle, still blinking into darkness, let herself smile. "Sorry. I guess I just wanted to make a dramatic entrance."
Riley grinned. "Or exit. You've always been extra."
Ben nodded sagely. "We're a mess, but at least we're a mess together."
The laughter that followed was shaky but real, and for the first time since waking, Annabelle felt something like hope flicker in the darkness.
The laughter was still echoing around Annabelle's bed when the door swung open and Ms. Liza swept in, all electric blue hair, jangling bracelets, and a tote bag that looked ready to burst.
She stopped at the foot of the bed, hands on hips, surveying the scene with a practiced eye. "Well, well, if it isn't my most dramatic employee. You couldn't just call in sick like a normal person, huh?"
Annabelle turned her head toward the voice, a mischievous glint in her unfocused eyes. She tilted her head, brow furrowing with exaggerated confusion. "Who… who's that? Emma, Riley, do you know who this is?"
The room went dead silent. Emma's mouth dropped open. Riley's eyes widened. Priya's hand froze halfway to her mouth, a half-eaten cookie forgotten.
For a split second, Ms. Liza's bravado faltered. "Oh, don't you start with me, Annabelle James. I swear, if you've got amnesia, I'm going to—"
Annabelle couldn't keep it up. She broke into a wide grin and turned her face toward the familiar jangle of Ms. Liza's bracelets. "Hi, Liza. I see you did me a lot of shopping."
Relief washed over the room—Emma let out a breathy laugh, Riley groaned, and Ben muttered, "She got us good."
Ms. Liza's eyes narrowed, but her lips twitched at the corners. "You little brat! I should've known. You want to give your poor boss a heart attack? I come in here with half the art store and you pretend you don't know me?"
Annabelle's grin softened, her voice warm. "You know me, Liza. I never miss a chance for drama. And I really appreciate the supplies."
Ms. Liza huffed, but her eyes were suspiciously shiny. "Well, you better put them to good use. I expect a mural, a masterpiece, and maybe a portrait of me looking fabulous."
Emma snorted. "That's going to take a lot of paint."
Riley added, "And a lot of glitter."
Ms. Liza shot them both a look. "Keep it up and I'll make you both pose in unicorn costumes for the shop's next ad campaign."
The room erupted in laughter, the tension finally melting away. Annabelle leaned back, surrounded by her found family, and for the first time since waking, she felt almost herself.
Ms. Liza set the heavy tote bag on the bed with a flourish. "Look at this haul! Every shade of blue, three different canvases, and—" she rummaged, producing a familiar brush, "your favorite. The one you always say makes the clouds look real."
Annabelle ran her fingers over the bristles, her smile trembling. "Thank you, Liza. Really. But…"
She hesitated, the laughter in the room fading as everyone sensed the shift. Annabelle's hands tightened on the brush, her knuckles white.
"I… I won't be able to use them. Not like before." Her voice was barely above a whisper. "The doctors say I'm blind, Liza. I can't see anything. Not the colors, not the canvas… not even your fabulous hair."
The silence that followed was heavy and raw. Ms. Liza's face crumpled for a moment, her bravado faltering. She reached out, cupping Annabelle's cheek with a gentle, paint-stained hand.
"Oh, sweetheart." Her voice shook, but she steadied it with sheer will. "Listen to me. You are more than your eyes, Annabelle James. You're an artist because of your heart, not just your hands. You'll find a way. And if you can't, we'll figure it out together. You're not alone. Not ever."
Annabelle's eyes filled with tears she couldn't see. She tried to speak, but her throat closed up. Ms. Liza squeezed her shoulder, fierce and motherly. "You hear me? This isn't the end. It's just a new canvas."
Annabelle nodded, a sob escaping her lips. The brush trembled in her hand.
Suddenly, the world tilted. Pain lanced through her skull—a blinding, tearing sensation. The room spun, the voices of her friends warping and fading as she was dragged backward, inward, into a storm of fractured memory.
Stone and shadow.
Ivory—her other self—stood at the edge of a throne room, her vision fractured, torn between light and darkness. The Fates loomed before her, their faces half-shrouded, their voices echoing in her mind.
"You will see everything you destroyed," they intoned, their words overlapping, relentless.
"You will feel every wound, every sorrow—"
Ivory clutched her head, agony splitting her in two. The world flickered—blood on her hands, fire in the streets, the howl of a child lost to the dark.
Back in the hospital, Annabelle convulsed, her body arching. The heart monitor spiked, alarms shrilling.
"Anna? Anna!" Emma's voice was panicked, distant.
"Get the doctor—she's seizing!" Riley shouted.
Ms. Liza's hand gripped hers, strong and unyielding. "Stay with us, Annabelle. Stay with us!"
But Annabelle was already falling, the world shattering into blinding white, then utter black.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Night in the hospital was a different kind of lonely. The world outside her window was all sodium-orange streetlights and the distant hum of traffic, but inside, Annabelle's ward was a silent island. The only movement came from the shifting shadows on the ceiling, thrown by the blinking monitors and the occasional sweep of headlights from the parking lot.
She lay still, listening to her own breathing, replaying the day's chaos in her mind: the frantic voices, the doctor's grave words, the laughter and bickering of her friends. She almost smiled, remembering Riley's dramatic sighs, Priya's dry wit, Emma's fierce hugs, Ben's awkward jokes, and Ms. Liza's stormy entrance. It all seemed impossibly far away now, like a story she'd overheard rather than lived.
A chill crept over her skin. She shifted, suddenly aware of how empty the ward was. The silence pressed in, thick and expectant. Then, she heard it—a faint scrape, like a chair being dragged across linoleum. Annabelle's heart hammered as she tried to sit up, but her body wouldn't obey. It was as if invisible hands pinned her to the bed.
A figure emerged from the darkness at the foot of her bed. He was tall and thin, his frame draped in a long, tattered coat that seemed to swallow the light. His face was gaunt, the skin stretched tight over sharp cheekbones, and his hair fell in uneven, ashen strands. But it was his eyes—impossibly pale, glowing lilac—that froze her blood. They seemed to see through her, into every secret and fear she'd ever had.
The man's lips curled in a thin, humorless smile. "It's time, Annabelle James."
His voice was soft, almost gentle, but it carried the chill of a grave. As he stepped closer, the shadows clung to him, swirling like living things. Annabelle tried to scream, but no sound came. She couldn't move, couldn't even turn her head. Panic rose in her throat.
He leaned over her, and for a moment, she saw herself reflected in his eyes—not as she was, but dressed in ancient, tattered robes, her hair wild, her face painted with sorrow and ash. She looked like a ghost, a grim specter from another world.
The man's smile widened, revealing teeth too white, too sharp. His presence pressed down on her, suffocating, as if he might snuff out her soul with a single breath.
Annabelle's thoughts raced. Was this it? Was she dying? Was he here to take her soul?
The monitors flickered. The lights overhead buzzed, dimmed, then flared back to life, flooding the room with harsh fluorescence.
The world was a blur of white coats and urgency as Annabelle was wheeled down the corridor, the hospital's fluorescent lights flickering overhead. She could hear the hurried steps, the clipped voices, the tension in the air so thick it felt like another weight on her chest.
A nurse leaned close, her voice trembling with adrenaline and hope. "Annabelle, we have a donor. Mr. Carter—he's in the ICU. His heart is failing, and he's made it clear: he wants you to have his eyes. But we have to move quickly. Corneas are only viable for a short window after death."
The doors to the surgical wing swung open. Annabelle caught snippets of conversation—doctors coordinating with the Organ Procurement team, a transplant coordinator confirming blood type and compatibility, a surgeon on the phone with the ICU. "He's on a ventilator, but his heart's failing fast. We need to be ready the moment he passes."
Through it all, Annabelle's mind spun. She remembered the man's lilac eyes, the chill of his presence, the way he'd said, "It's time, Annabelle James." Now, in the harsh light of reality, it was the failing pulse of an old man that set the tempo.
A transplant nurse explained as they prepped her, "Once Mr. Carter's heart stops, the surgical team will recover his corneas immediately. They'll be flushed with a preservation solution and rushed here. We have only a few hours—sometimes less—before the tissue deteriorates. That's why everything's happening so fast."
Annabelle heard the urgency in every word, felt it in the hands that gently but swiftly prepared her for anesthesia. She knew, in some distant part of her mind, that this was the old man's last wish—a final act of hope as his organs failed, his body surrendering to time.
Just before the mask covered her face, the nurse squeezed her hand. "We found you a donor, Annabelle. We're going to do everything we can."
The world faded, the last thing she heard a chorus of hurried footsteps and the whispered promise of a second chance
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In sterile light, she drifts between
The laughter of friends and the shadow of queens;
Blindness descends, a crown of fate,
While ancient voices whisper, "Wait."
A stranger's lilac eyes in the night,
A soul's grim warning, a flicker of fright;
Death's cold hand, a donor's last plea—
Hope and terror entwined, unwillingly free.
Through pain and memory, darkness and fear,
A gift of sight draws ever near;
On the edge of worlds, her story bends—
A new vision begins where the old one ends.
[To be continued]
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- Signing off ;)💋🧿🩷