Reborn Heart of Steel

‘Did she kill herself because of the rumors being spread?’

‘Young girl commits suicide after being rumored a drug addict…’

I groaned… rubbing my dishevelled hair as I reached out for the glass of water on my table. I had the worst dream last night about getting pushed off a rooftop.

The news was doing absolutely nothing to help that. I opened my eyes a little to see a girl, bloodied, with blonde hair like mine… being wrapped in a cloth.

Confused, I looked closer at the screen. Why did she look like me? I gently got down from the bed. My eyes widening each second… no… she was me.

Then… I looked at my hand and my environment. This wasn’t my room, I precipitately dashed into the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror. This isn’t me. I know this girl, I know her, but she’s not me…

“Brianne!” My head jerked to the side when I heard someone enter the room. “Brianne?”

That was me? I’m Brianne?

I stepped out of the bathroom… I couldn’t say anything. This was a secret I couldn’t tell…

“Brianne, are you there?” “Are you okay?” The woman’s worried tone of voice brought me out of the mental downward spiral I had been caught in.

“I-I mean, yeah,” I stuttered, putting on a smile that felt strange on my new face. “Perhaps it was just a strange dream.”

Nurse Wilson, identified by her name tag, touched my forehead. “Sweetheart, you’re not running a temperature. Are you still feeling a little unsettled from the crash?”

Crash? What happened? Fear gripped my throat. I had no recollection of any accident.

I muttered, hoping she wouldn’t ask more questions. “Feeling slightly achy.”

Nurse Wilson gently squeezed my hand. “Take some time to relax and recover.” Your parents are coming soon. “They will be glad that you are now conscious.”

Parents? My heart beat rapidly within my chest. Which parents? What was happening in this place?

The worried-looking couple was revealed once more as the door creaked open. The lady hurried to my bedside, tears filling up in her eyes.

“Brianna, I’m so relieved you’re awake!” she exclaimed, wrapping me in a strong embrace. “We were extremely anxious.”

With worry lines etched on his face, the man placed a hand on my shoulder. “Sweetheart, how do you feel?”

I attempted to speak, but no words emerged from my mouth. I was trapped in a whirlwind of confusion within my mind. These people showed genuine concern but it felt completely unfamiliar.

“She’s slightly disoriented,” Nurse Wilson added calmly. “Likely due to the trauma. Allow her some time.”

The woman, wiping away her tears, flashed me a melancholic smile. Naturally. “Feel free to take as much time as you require, my dear.”

As Nurse Wilson led them out of the room, countless questions circulated in my mind. Who were these people? Where did I leave off?Property belongs to Nôvel(D)r/ama.Org.

The response gazed at me from the television screen hanging on the wall.

A news article featured a of me , being taken away on a stretcher.

The horrifying deja vu flooded back as I remembered the gruesome scene from my dream. I felt my breath catch in my throat.

My hands shook as I grabbed my phone, the common gadget causing another wave of unease in me. This phone didn’t belong to me. However, without thinking, I decided to unlock it and entered ‘Lucy Abrams’ in the search bar.

The results were immediate. Media reports, social media updates, all depicted a narrative of a girl excluded, harassed, and ultimately compelled to end her own life.

Afterward, a picture grabbed my attention. Lucy stood next to a boy with dark hair who was smiling. Beneath was a caption saying: ‘Lucy Abrams and Chase Thorne. #RelationshipGoals.’

Chase.

At that moment, the door creaked open once more. It was the woman from before, her eyes showing redness around the edges. She presented a tray with a bowl of soup and a glass of milk.

“Hey, honey,” she whispered gently. “Here’s some food. You haven’t been eating well enough.”

I paused before giving a slow nod. “Thank you… mum?”

The word felt uncomfortable in my mouth, like wearing clothes that are too small. However, a brilliant smile illuminated the woman’s face.

“Yes love. I’m glad you remember.”

I need to leave for work now. “I can’t recall a lot,” I confessed in a barely audible voice. “What happened?”

Mom sat down in a chair next to the bed and held my hand. “You were in a crash, dear. A terrible tumble.

“A tumble?” I felt dizzy. Did she do this to shield me from the truth?

“You don’t need to know it all. I don’t even want to recall the incident. But you would have died if not we found you fast. You were unconscious. Had be sick worried.”

Looking down at my lap, I felt overwhelmed by the gravity of the situation. I was not Brianne. I was Lucy, stuck in another person’s physical form. How could I possibly convey that information to her?

“Mom,” I started to say, but then hesitated. The term felt like a deception, a lie.

“What is it, my dear?”

“Who… who was Lucy? Can you tell me more about Lucy’s identity?”

She paused.

“Mom,” I started, my voice trembling with anxiety. “Who… who was the young girl in the news story?”

Mom’s forehead wrinkled, a hint of sorrow passing over her face. “Oh, dear, it’s not the right time for you to be watching the news. “It’s all very negative.”

“No, it’s only…” I paused, then blurted, “That girl… she…”

My mom’s grip on my hand grew stronger. “Sweetie, I understand how you feel, but there’s nothing that can be done about her death.”

However, I was more knowledgeable. The similarity was striking. “What was the name of the girl?” I murmured quietly as I pushed the button.

Mom looked away, her face showing a pained expression. She whispered “Lucy” at last. Lucy Abrams was her name.”

I felt a chilling fear knotting in my stomach. Lucy Abrams. The girl in my dream, the girl in the news, the girl who resembled me perfectly.

“Do you know her?” I inquired, barely able to hear my own voice.

Mom shook her head, a lone tear making its way down her cheek. “No sweetie. It’s tragic really.”

A horrible experience. The words reverberated in my thoughts, tinged with a chilling reality.

It wasn’t a true tragedy for them, to be honest. It was a form of getaway, a harsh stroke of luck that placed me in the body of a stranger.

All of a sudden, the burden of responsibility rested on my shoulders. I was leading an artificial existence surrounded by individuals who adored Brianne, a stranger to me.

“Mum?” I dared, speaking so softly it was barely audible.

“Sure, dear?”

“Could you provide me with additional information on Lucy?”

The question loomed large in the atmosphere. There was a moment of uncertainty in Mom’s gaze, a quiet deliberation on how much information to disclose. However, she ultimately breathed out heavily, displaying a sense of surrender in her expression.

“She had a promised future. As she already won the competition to Derek Thorne’s grandmother’s birthday.”

“What happened?” I had to ask, the words just spilled out uncontrollably.

Mom’s eyes wandered, a whirlwind of feelings simmering underneath. “Rumors were circulating at school,” she said, her voice tense. “Harmful gossip that escalated beyond belief.”

“What sort of rumors?” My heart throbbed rapidly within my chest.

After a lengthy silence, Mom looked directly at me, her eyes reflecting both sadness and anger. “They leveled allegations against her for… for trafficking drugs.”

I knew these things.

“However, she did not, did she?” I murmured, already aware of the solution.

“I can’t say. But she seemed like a really sweet girl. People can be…

“Cruel.”

The room was filled with a weighty silence, charged with unanswered questions and a dreadful understanding. I was not only Lucy confined within Brianne’s body. I was also Brianne and the weight of her life that had been taken from her. The question that ate away at me, the question that required a response, was this:

What should I do with it?