Three months ago, a car accident stole my sight. My parents, ever protective, moved us away from the city to a quiet villa where they could better care for me. But this morning, miraculously, I could see again. Light, color, and form flooded back into my world. I was about to cry out with joy, to tell my parents the good news, when I noticed a crumpled-up tissue under my bed.
My demand for cleanliness is extreme, so I instinctively picked it up. As I smoothed it out, I frowned. Words were scrawled across it, the handwriting messy, as if written in a great hurry.
“Don’t tell them you can see.”
Them? It obviously meant my parents. But who could have left this message? In the last three months, the only people who had entered my room were my parents and my husband, Noah.
Just then, a knock on the door. “Ella? I made you some soup,” my mom’s kind voice sounded from behind the door. I casually threw the tissue into a dustbin. But when I opened the door, my pupils shrank.
A woman stood there, holding a bowl and smiling at me. Her lips were bright red, and the smile on her face looked eerie. She was not my mom. I jerked back, my face a mask of shock. My mother was a kind-looking woman; this woman looked shrewd, and her features bore no resemblance to my mom’s. But the strangest thing was that her voice was exactly the same.
I was about to question who she was when the note’s warning echoed in my mind.
“Ella, what’s wrong? Not feeling well?” The woman took a worried step closer.
“Just… leave the soup here, Mom. I’ll eat it later,” I fumbled, sitting back on the bed.
“You should have it while it’s hot, Ella. Why don’t you let me feed you?”
“I’m still a little sleepy, Mom,” I refused immediately. “I want to take a nap.”
She didn’t insist, leaving the bowl on the nightstand. The moment she closed the door, I let out a sigh of relief, my back completely drenched in cold sweat. Where was my real mom? Who was this woman?
Worried, I opened my door and stepped out into the spacious, two-story villa. I saw a man sitting on the sofa in the living room, his back to me, reading a newspaper. This must be my dad. Making sure the woman wasn’t around, I lowered my voice. “Dad?”
The man turned his head. Fear swept through my entire body. It was not my dad, but another completely unfamiliar face.
“Ella? What’s wrong?” Yet, from his mouth came my dad’s voice.
I squeezed out a smile. “Nothing, Dad.”
The woman walked out from another room, her bright red lips pulled into an extravagant smile. “Ella? Weren’t you going to take a nap?”
“Oh, changed my mind,” I smiled.
“Then let me help you with the soup,” she said, feeding it to me with a spoon. I could hardly taste it, terrified of what she might have put in it.
“What’s wrong, Ella? You’re sweating so much,” she noticed, her eyes staring straight into mine. They were large, but the whites took up most of them.
“I just… don’t know when my eyes will recover,” I said, pretending to be frustrated. The woman smiled and stroked my head lovingly.
Back in my room, I locked the door, my chest tight with fear. Half a month ago, my husband Noah had visited. At that time, my parents were still my real parents. I found my phone, still set to voice mode, and called him.
“Ella? I just got off the plane. I can come and see you now.”
“Noah, this might sound crazy,” I said urgently, “but believe me, everything I’m about to tell you is true.” I told him everything.
“I’m coming over right now, Ella.”
The airport was an hour away. His promise eased my anxiety, but then came another knock. “Ella, time for your meds.” It was the man’s voice. I didn’t answer. The doorknob began to turn. “Why did you lock the door, Ella? Your eyes won’t heal if you don’t take your meds.”
I held my breath, determined not to open it. I heard his footsteps go down the stairs, but I had a strong feeling of being watched. I crept to the door and carefully got down to the floor, wanting to peek from under the door.
A pair of eyes, mostly white, stared straight back at me from the other side.
I was instantly covered in cold sweat. Pretending not to see him, I slowly groped on the floor. “Strange… I think I just dropped my phone.” The eyes disappeared. I collapsed, gasping for air. What did this creepy couple want from me?
An hour later, Noah called, his voice anxious. “Ella, where the hell are you?”
“What? I’m at the villa. You’ve been here before.”
“I am at the villa,” he said, puzzled. “But I don’t see you or your parents. It’s dusty here, like no one has lived here for a long time.”
He sent me a photo. It was the villa, but abandoned, covered in dust and cobwebs. The layout was exactly the same, but it was not the villa I was in right now. A chill ran down my spine. I was trapped in a nightmare.
“I’ll try to find another way in,” Noah’s text came. “Don’t leave your room.”
I heard footsteps on the stairs again. “Ella, I brought more soup,” the woman’s voice cooed. I noticed a glass of water on my nightstand that hadn’t been there before. They were trying to drug me.
Desperation washed over me. I remembered the window. It was my only way out. Without a second thought, I opened it and began climbing down the balcony railing. As soon as my feet hit the ground, I ran. The gate was locked, but I squeezed through an opening in the fence.
Headlights approached. It was Noah. I ran towards the car, waving frantically. “They’re not my parents, Noah!” I sobbed as he hugged me. “They’re imposters!”
He pulled me into the car and sped away. I looked back. The villa’s lights were off, and it looked abandoned, just like in his photo. I felt dizzy, my grasp on reality slipping.
“You’re safe now, Ella, I promise,” Noah’s voice was firm, but something in his tone unsettled me.
“You believe me, don’t you?” I asked, hesitant.
He looked at me for a second, a strange smile on his lips. “Of course, Ella. I always believe you.”
My heart sank. The nightmare was far from over. As he kept driving, I began to feel incredibly weak. The world distorted, his voice faded, and I was engulfed in a deep, comforting darkness.
Suddenly, a bright light. I was in a vast field, covered in a soft mist. In the distance, I saw them—the figures who looked like my parents, their smiles cold and expressionless. “Ella, dear,” the mother-figure called. “It’s time for you to come with us.”
I stepped back, my soul screaming that this was wrong.
“Ella, don’t go.” Another voice. I turned and saw Noah, surrounded by a bright, infinite light. His eyes were kind and protective. “You can’t go with them, Ella,” he said, extending his hand. “It’s not your time.”
“Who… who are they?” I asked.
“They are beings who came to take you,” he replied, his voice firm and reassuring. “But you don’t belong to them yet.”
It all started to make sense. The strange house, the imposters, the danger. I was caught between life and death. Noah was my protector, my guardian angel.
“Trust me, Ella,” he said, wrapping me in a gentle embrace. “It’s time for you to wake up.”
The light intensified, and everything vanished in a blinding flash.
When I opened my eyes again, I was in a hospital bed. Machines beeped softly. I turned my head and saw them: my real father, my real mother, and my real Noah. Tears streamed down my mother’s face. My father held her hand, his own voice choked with emotion. Noah was beside them, his eyes filled with a love so profound it nearly broke my heart.
I understood. All that time, I had been in a coma. The car accident had left me in a state between life and death, and what I experienced was a battle for my soul. The beings who looked like my parents were forces that wanted to take me, but Noah—or a representation of his love, his prayers—had saved me.
My mother explained that the doctors had lost hope. They had authorized the disconnection of the machines. But at that exact moment, I came back. They called it a miracle. And I knew, deep in my heart, that it truly was.
Today, I dedicate my life to sharing that miracle. I tell my story—of the darkness, the fear, and the light that brought me back. I speak of the guardian who fought for me. And every time I remember waking up to see my family by my side, I know I am here for a reason. Life is a gift, and I will honor it every single day.
I had thought I was alone in this world, trapped in a strange place between life and death, until that moment I regained my sight. But what followed was a twisted journey I never expected.
The more I tried to grasp what was happening around me, the deeper I felt the pull of something unnatural. The woman, whose face wasn’t my mother’s, whose voice mimicked hers so perfectly—she had a coldness that I couldn’t shake. The man who wasn’t my father, though his voice echoed his perfectly—something was terribly wrong. Every action they took, every word they spoke felt rehearsed, as though they were following a script, playing roles that they weren’t truly meant to.
The real fear came not from the sight of them, but from what they represented. I began to understand that these weren’t just strange versions of my parents, but something else entirely—something malevolent that had taken over their forms. They had to be the forces Noah had warned me about.
When I called him, the only person I could trust, the only one who still believed in me, I could feel my world unraveling faster. His concern was palpable through the phone, his promise to come to me bringing a sense of hope. But even as he reassured me, I couldn’t ignore the feeling that I was still being watched. The eyes at the door—their haunting stare that made every part of me freeze with terror—told me that I wasn’t alone. It was as if I was being surrounded, trapped in this cage that looked like my home but felt like a nightmare.
It was the sudden intrusion of the woman, bringing soup and a false sense of comfort, that made everything click into place. She was trying to lull me into submission, drugging me, slowly stripping me of my will to fight. But I wasn’t going to let them win. I wasn’t going to let these imposters take me without a fight.
The phone call with Noah, though brief, was the lifeline I needed. As he drove toward me, I prepared for the worst. I knew I couldn’t stay in that house. I had to escape. They wanted to keep me there, in their strange, distorted world, where nothing made sense, and everything felt wrong. The moment I climbed down the balcony railing, feeling the cold night air against my skin, I thought of Noah and the life I had left behind.
I pushed myself harder, knowing that once I reached him, I would be safe. But the moment I stepped into his car, with the cold embrace of his arms around me, I still couldn’t shake the feeling of dread. The story he told me—that he couldn’t find me in the villa, that everything was dusty and abandoned—shattered everything I thought I knew. The house I was in, the world I had just escaped, was not real. It had never been real.
Then, as Noah drove me away from that nightmare, the reality of what was happening hit me like a cold wave. The world around me began to blur, the edges of it stretching into a fog. I couldn’t focus. My mind, which had been so clear just moments before, seemed to slip away as I became enveloped in an overwhelming darkness.
It was only when I saw the light—bright, blinding, almost too much to bear—that I knew I wasn’t alone anymore. In the mist, I saw them. Figures that resembled my parents, their smiles wide but empty. They were calling to me, drawing me closer, beckoning me toward them. But I knew. I knew deep down that I couldn’t go with them.
Then I saw Noah. His figure cut through the haze, his voice a beacon of warmth and safety. He wasn’t just my husband. He was my protector, my guardian. He had come to pull me back from the edge, to save me from the void that these beings were trying to drag me into.
Noah’s love for me, his presence, had anchored me in that moment. His voice had reminded me of everything that mattered. I wasn’t alone, not truly. I had someone fighting for me, and for the first time since the accident, I felt that maybe—just maybe—I wasn’t lost.
When I woke up, everything was different. The sterile smell of the hospital filled my nose, and the rhythmic beeping of machines around me grounded me in reality. My parents were there, tears in their eyes, holding hands as they spoke to each other. And Noah—Noah was beside them, his expression one of relief and love. The world I had been living in for so long, the one I thought was real, melted away. The coma, the battle for my soul—it all made sense now.
The doctors had given up on me, had prepared to disconnect me from life support. But at that very moment, I woke up. It was a miracle, as they said, and I knew it was. I had been given a second chance, and I was going to live it.
This wasn’t just a story of surviving a car accident. It wasn’t just about the miracle of regaining my sight. This was about the power of love, of the people who truly cared for me, fighting against all odds to bring me back from the brink of death.
Now, I carry this story with me. I share it because I know that every day I am given is a gift. I tell people about the darkness, the fear, and the overwhelming light that brought me back to life. But more than that, I share the love that saved me. It was Noah’s love, the love of my real family, that pulled me from the grasp of those beings who had tried to take me.
Every time I feel afraid, every time the shadows of that time creep into my mind, I remember what I learned: love is more powerful than any force in the world. And I will never take it for granted again.
