Kyra's pov
Beep. Beep. Beep.
The rhythmic sound echoed through my skull as I peeled my eyes open. Everything was white. Sterile. Soft voices murmured around me—one male, one female.
"Oh, you're awake..." the woman whispered, eyes shining with emotion.
I blinked slowly. Two adults hovered over me, their faces warm and concerned. The woman clutched my hand; the man stood protectively beside her.
"Sweetheart," she said softly, "I'm your mum. And this is your dad."
My chest tightened. Mum? Dad? Their voices felt like a warm blanket—but something inside me twisted. I didn't know them.
"I…" My voice cracked. "Who… am I?"
They exchanged a quick glance, then smiled—too quickly.
"You're Kyra. Our little girl." The man's voice was firm, yet gentle.
Confusion spun like a whirlpool in my mind. I looked down at my hands, pale and trembling. My head began to throb—a sharp, stabbing pain like needles behind my eyes. I let out a gasp, clutching my temples."Shh, darling," the woman cooed, brushing my hair. "Just rest. We'll show you some pictures, hmm?"
She held out a photo album. Me, smiling. Me on a pony. Me blowing candles on a cake. The images were bright and happy—but felt like dreams someone else had.
Later, the man returned with stuffed animals and toys.
"These were your favourites."
"Thanks... Dad," I said, testing the word.
He smiled. "Everything for you, princess."
And yet… something still didn't sit right. Their words were sweet. Their voices are soothing. But behind their eyes was something unreadable—like actors reciting a script.
That night, I closed my eyes to dreams of ponies and flowers…