Chapter 6

The hospital room was silent except for the rhythmic beeping of machines, each beat marking the slow passage of time. The room was filled with the low hum of machines, the steady beeping that measured each shallow breath Bell took. Bell's body lay still, her condition unchanged for weeks, slipping further and further from hope. Her condition had not improved over the past few weeks; in fact, the doctors noticed subtle signs of further deterioration. Her once vibrant self lay motionless, her body a fragile shell of the person she used to be.

The nurses moved in and out of her room, whispering quietly to one another, their eyes heavy with resignation. It was clear they had lost hope, even if the machines hadn't. Bell's chances of waking up grew slimmer with each passing day, and yet her body clung to life—just barely.

To the outside world, she was a girl frozen in time, trapped in a vegetative state. But inside her mind, something strange was beginning to unfold.

At first, there was darkness—a void. Bell couldn't feel her body. She couldn't hear, couldn't move. It was as if she were floating, weightless, disconnected from everything. Am I dead? the thought crept in, her mind slowly processing the stillness around her.

Then, faintly, a sensation. She wasn't sure how or when it started, but it felt like a slow pull, as though something—someone—was trying to tug her away from the emptiness. Where the heck am I? Panic surged. Her mind raced. Was this the end? Was she crossing into the afterlife?

A dense fog began to swirl around her, curling like fingers, pulling her deeper into the unknown. The atmosphere was strange—neither cold nor warm, just… nothing. She spun around, trying to catch her bearings, but it was all the same. White fog as far as the eye could see. No horizon. No sound.

Wait. Is this... heaven? Am I really dead? No! No, this can't be happening. Not like this!

The fog thickened around her as her thoughts spiraled. She had fought so hard, struggled through life's ups and downs, only to end up here, in this confusing, silent space. I'm dead… The realization crashed over her. I'm dead… she repeated, trying to make sense of it.

Her initial shock morphed into something else—acceptance. It was hard to admit, but maybe this was easier. Maybe being in this in-between, with no pain, no struggle, was better than the suffocating battle of her life before. Well... she sighed, her mind settling into the quiet, I'm tired of all the fighting anyway. I guess this is it. No more stress, no more... anything.

Her shoulders relaxed, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she felt… at peace.

It's over.

But just as she let go, something shifted. The gentle pull that had been tugging at her consciousness intensified, yanking her violently through the fog. She tried to scream, but no sound came. The world around her twisted and bent, the soft whiteness transforming into something darker, more chaotic. The fog swirled faster, whipping around her, and suddenly—

She gasped, her eyes flying open.

Blinding light poured into her vision, and she flinched, her senses overwhelmed. But something wasn't right. She wasn't lying in a hospital bed. The sheets beneath her were impossibly soft, the air smelled faintly of roses and expensive perfume, and everything felt... off.

Bell blinked rapidly, trying to process her surroundings. The fog had completely disappeared, replaced by an extravagant room, rich with lush fabrics, towering mirrors, and gold accents that screamed luxury. Her heart raced as she took it all in. Where am I?

She pulled herself up, her body feeling strange—lighter, stronger. When she glanced down at her hands, her breath caught in her throat. They weren't her hands. The skin was flawless, smooth, and manicured. Her arms were toned, not the ones she remembered. Bell scrambled out of bed, her heart thudding in her chest as she stumbled to a nearby mirror.

What stared back at her was impossible.

The reflection wasn't hers.

No. No, no, no, this isn't right. That's... that's not me!

A breathtakingly beautiful woman stood in the mirror, her dark, wavy hair cascading down her shoulders. Her eyes were bright, her face sculpted and flawless. Her lips parted slightly as Bell ran her hands over her face, her pulse quickening with every touch.

This... this can't be happening. Bell turned away from the mirror, her head spinning. Am I still dead? Is this some sort of afterlife?

She was still in shock, her mind struggling to reconcile the reality before her. Every part of her body felt different, foreign. There wasn't a single piece of Bell left—except her thoughts, her consciousness. She ran a hand through her hair, the silky strands slipping through her fingers like water.

Just then, the door to the room burst open, and a woman rushed in, her high heels clicking sharply against the marble floor.

"Good morning, love! You're running late. The car's already outside waiting to take you to your recording session," the woman chirped, barely looking at Bell as she placed a stack of papers on the bed. "And don't forget, VibeNation magazine is expecting you for the big interview later today."

Recording session? Interview? Bell's confusion deepened. None of this made sense.

The woman finally looked up and paused, noticing Bell's wide-eyed, bewildered expression. "You alright, Vivica? You look a little… off."

Bell stared back at her, words failing her. Vivica? Vivica whatt??

"Come on, we don't have time for this. You're Vivica Winters, the biggest name in music right now. Don't tell me you've forgotten," the woman teased lightly, clearly unaware of the storm brewing inside Bell's mind.

Vivica Winters …? Bell felt her heart drop. The name was familiar—she had heard it before, on TV, on the radio. Vivica Winters was a superstar singer, a global sensation. But none of this should be happening. Bell wasn't supposed to be here, wasn't supposed to be… Vivica Winters.

She looked down at her perfectly manicured hands again, the truth sinking in deeper. She had woken up in the body of a global superstar, and she had no idea how or why.

Panic gripped her. She was Bell. But to the world, she was now Vivica Winters.

What the hell is happening to me?

Bell's heart raced as she tried to process everything. Vivica Winters? A singer? She blinked rapidly, feeling the dissonance between her thoughts and the body she now inhabited. The room, the woman calling her Vivica, the luxurious surroundings—it all felt surreal, like she was stuck in a dream she couldn't wake from.

She swallowed hard, her throat dry. "Wait... Vivica, right. I—" Bell stammered, her voice sounding foreign to her ears. The assistant gave her a puzzled glance, clearly thrown off by the hesitation.

"Uh, yes. Of course, the recording session…" Bell mumbled, trying to cover her confusion.

Her eyes darted around the room, landing on the gold-framed mirror once more. She couldn't avoid it—the reflection that wasn't hers. A creeping sense of dread started to fill her chest. This isn't me. This isn't my life. I don't belong here.

But before she could lose herself in panic, the assistant's voice cut through her spiraling thoughts. "You need to get ready, Vivica. You're already behind schedule."

Bell nodded stiffly, though her mind screamed for answers. How had this happened? Why had she woken up in someone else's body? Was this some sort of twisted second chance? Or was it a curse?

As the assistant exited the room, leaving her with a pile of clothes and papers, Bell slumped onto the plush bed, running her hands over her face. Her hands—Vivica's hands. Her pulse pounded in her ears, and she felt a wave of nausea building. She squeezed her eyes shut, gripping the soft sheets tightly.

This can't be happening, she thought. I'm Bell. Not Vivica. Not some famous singer with a life I know nothing about.

She inhaled deeply, trying to calm her shaking nerves. But then, the gnawing realization hit her again: in this world, Bell was gone. Aislinn, her friends, her entire life—they were behind her now, and she was trapped in Vivica's body. She had to accept it, at least for now.

Her hands fell to her lap, trembling slightly. "You really do not have time to think about what happened right now, Bell," she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible in the quiet room. "This is not even the problem, the problem is that I do not know how to SING!!."

She took a deep breath, fighting the wave of emotion welling up inside her. "I guess I have to play along to know what's going on. I literally have no choice here. If life gives you lemon, you make lemonades, that's how the saying goes right?"

It's my time now. I have to survive this. I have to live this life. I don't have time to think about what's gone.

With a heavy sigh, she wiped her face dry and looked around the room again, feeling the weight of her new reality pressing down on her. She wasn't Bell anymore. She was Vivica Winters, the superstar. The thought terrified her. But it also stirred something else within her—something like determination.

Bell stood up and faced the mirror once more. The woman staring back was flawless, perfect. She straightened her posture, steeling herself for what was to come.

"Alright," she muttered, taking a deep breath. "Let's see what being Vivica Winters is all about."