The heavy stench of antiseptic was the first thing to hit my nose as I woke. So, it wasn't a dream. I recognized those white walls and white floors. I was still in the hospital.
The IV line passed through my body, and I was still on the bed. Staring at my reflection in the mirror opposite me, I knew I still hadn't woken up from this bad dream. I had blonde hair, black eyes, and my nails were coated in red polish. To crown it all, the face I wore wasn't mine.
I sucked in a deep breath and pain throbbed in my head. I lifted one hand and felt the stitch.
This was confusing. Had I died and gone to hell? My body felt too real to be a soul.
I heard a voice in my head, and it jolted me out of my plethora of thoughts.
A robotic voice echoed in my head: Congratulations Bianca, you have successfully inhabited the body of Bella Sinclair.
"What?" I muttered out loud. My eyes darted around the room to see who was talking, but there was no one.
Voice: You would perform various tasks to survive in this body.
My chest rose and fell rapidly. I was sure that my blood pressure had become higher. Adrenaline surged through me, triggering my flight response because I definitely couldn't fight.
I opened my mouth to say something, but shut it immediately.
"Inhabiting the body of Bella Sinclair? What does that even mean?"
Whoever was playing these games on me should stop it already. I sucked in another deep breath and almost fell off the bed in fear as I heard the voice again.
Voice: Accept Bella's body to be yours or go back to being Bianca
I blinked, not once, not twice, but multiple times.
My throat felt dry and my voice trembled as I muttered yes.
The voice became louder in my head and I almost tripped over as I wasn't expecting such intensity.
Voice: Congratulations. You are now a permanent inhabitant of Bella's body
"Who are you?" I questioned, but I didn't get any response from the strange voice. I asked again and was met with silence.
Although, I still picked out sense from some of the things the voice said. It had revealed that I was now in Bella Sinclair's body. I had no idea who this Bella was, but I needed to know exactly what happened to me. Was a plastic surgery carried out on me without my knowledge?
I furrowed my brows, realizing how absurd it all sounded. During my lonely days as a housewife, I read several novels on romance, transmigration and rebirth.
No, it couldn't be. Only a lunatic would believe that stories from a fictional book could be true.
My brain was still soaked with thoughts when a nurse with blue scrubs entered the room.
I stared at her wide eyed.
"How are you feeling, Miss Bella?"
Bella?
It truly meant that I was in the body of Bella, but who was this Bella, and why wasn't she in her body.
The nurse looked at me, expecting a reply. It was then that it dawned on me that my mouth was open, but I didn't give a response.
"I feel okay." I muttered in a low tone.
She heard me and nodded her head, then scribbled something on the pages of a book that she held.
"Are there any pains or strange feelings?"
I felt the undeniable urge to chuckle.
There was an ache in my forehead and there were loads of strange feelings that I couldn't fathom.
Of course, I felt so fucking strange that there was a foreign voice in my head and it was even stranger that this body wasn't mine.
The nurse gave me that look again. That look of 'I'm expecting an answer'
I cleared my slightly clogged throat with a small cough. "I have a bit of a headache, and…"
I contemplated if I should tell her about my predicament, my foreign body, and then ask about if I was in hell. I swallowed hard, I could be at the risk of being admitted to a psychiatric ward if I asked any of those questions.
"Is there any other discomfort apart from the headache?"
I reflected over my decision to keep the strangeness to myself and muttered a NO.
"Good." She returned to her book and wrote something I couldn't understand. "You are recovering well and will soon be discharged, possibly tomorrow morning."
She moved closer to me and unfastened the IV line and the cannula from my arm. I felt relieved as those two were removed from my hand.
The nurse wrote down something again after unfastening them. I wondered what she was writing.
Later on, a man in a white coat whom I presumed to be the doctor entered into the room. The nurse handed him the book that she had scribbled stuff on. He skimmed through the book before handing it back to her and walking towards me.
"How do you feel?" He asked, and brushed his fingers against the stitch on my forehead as if examining it.
I straightened myself on the bed. "I have slight pain on my forehead, but apart from that, I'm fine."
He nodded his head and was about to leave, but I held onto his hand.
"Doctor, what happened to me? Who paid for the plastic surgery?"
His forehead crinkled into a confused frown. "I don't understand ma'am."
"I don't understand myself either," I murmured in a trembling voice and let go of his hand.
"The only thing we did was to stitch the cut on your forehead as you were brought in from the accident."
"Is there any other problem?" The doctor added.
"At least I'm not in hell," I said in a whisper.
He was still expecting a reply from me, so I shook my head. The doctor let out a faint smile and left the room.
When the door was shut, I moved my gaze to the window that was slightly open, revealing a dark night sky.
Those words refused to leave my head, and I asked myself multiple times, "Where am I?"