If you're reading this, congratulations. You're not dead from malnutrition. That puts you ahead of where I was ten minutes ago.
I guess I should start from the beginning—or the end, depending on how you look at it.
My name was—well, I guess is—Eli. Eli Carter. Ten years old. Orphan. Resident of the Sweet Oak Shelter for the Unwanted and Occasionally Forgotten. Spoiler: It wasn't sweet, it wasn't oak-scented, and we were always forgotten.
I died on a Tuesday. Not in a blaze of glory or some heroic last stand. Nope. Just… hunger. My stomach caved in before the world did. One second I was curled up under my thin blanket in that freezing little dormitory, wishing the ache would stop. The next?
Beep. Beep. Beep.
I woke up in a hospital bed, surrounded by white walls and wires, with the most ridiculous floral wallpaper I've ever seen. It looked like a vintage grandma exploded in here. I blinked up at the ceiling, then down at my arms—and nearly choked.
These weren't my arms.
Too soft. Too clean. Too… moisturized?
I sat up with a jolt. Or tried to. My body was sore, and there was a stabbing pain in my ribs. A nurse gasped from the corner of the room and dropped her clipboard.
"She's awake! Call the doctor! And the family—call the family!"
Wait. She?
That was when I caught sight of my reflection in the shiny side of the heart monitor.
I had long, silky brown hair.
My skin looked like it had never known the sting of a winter draft.
My cheeks were pink. Like, healthy pink. And full.
And—I'm just gonna say it—I had eyelashes longer than my dreams.
"What in the Hello Kitty hell is happening," I whispered.
Turns out, I had died. Again. Only this time, it was someone else's death. Someone named Annalise Sinclair.
Ten years old. Heiress to the Sinclair Financial Empire (which, by the way, sounds like a board game but is very real). Spoiled. Popular. Dresses that cost more than the shelter's entire monthly budget. Her biggest problem? A tragic accident involving her pet Pomeranian and a bottle of imported perfume. (Don't ask.)
Annalise had gone into a coma two days ago. Doctors said it was a mystery—heart just gave out. Boom. Down she went like a Disney princess without the musical number. And now?
I was her.
Well. Sort of.
She was gone. I was here. The bed was still warm.
"You gave us such a scare, sweetie," a woman's voice said, soft and trembling.
I turned. A beautiful woman with perfect hair and Chanel everything rushed to my side, tears running down her face. Behind her stood a man in a crisp suit, holding her shoulders like she might fall apart. Both of them had eyes like mine now—hazel and gold and glassy with worry.
"Mom?" I said, without even thinking. The word felt weird in my mouth. Heavy. Unfamiliar. Warm.
"Yes, darling, I'm here. We're both here. You're going to be okay."
The man stepped closer and put a gentle hand on my head. "Welcome back, pumpkin. You gave us a heart attack."
I was quiet for a beat. Then:
"…Did I die?"
They froze. Glanced at each other. The mom—my new mom—brushed my hair back from my forehead.
"No, sweetheart. You just… had a scare. But you're back now."
Yeah. I was. Not their Annalise.
I smiled, kind of. Not sure if it reached my eyes.
Later, when I was alone, I stared at my hands again. Small. Perfect. Painted nails. Who paints a ten-year-old's nails in a coma?
This wasn't fair.
I mean—yeah, okay. It's a cosmic upgrade. From starving orphan to rich girl with two loving parents and a pillow that smells like lavender and dreams. But I didn't ask for this. I didn't earn it. I just… got lucky.
And what happened to the real Annalise? Did she just vanish? Am I squatting in her body like a soul thief?
I pulled the blanket up to my chin and whispered to the ceiling.
"I don't know why I'm here. Or who thought this was a good idea. But if I get a second chance... I'm not gonna waste it."
Just then, the door swung open.
A teenage girl with matching hazel eyes, a perfect braid, and an attitude that entered the room five seconds before she did, strolled in. She looked down at me like I was a puzzle missing half the pieces.
"You're lucky you're cute," she said. "Otherwise I'd have to kill you for scaring Mom like that."
She flopped into the visitor's chair and started scrolling on her phone.
That, apparently, was my big sister.