Everyone Is Connected

Rio chapter 14

Elouise's POV

I slowly drift back into consciousness, my mind thick with fog. The first thing that hits me is the smell—sweet and fresh, like ripe mangoes and something saltier, the unmistakable tang of the ocean. The air is cooler here, a soft breeze caressing my face, and for a moment, I let myself just breathe it in, wondering if I'm still dreaming. But then, reality comes crashing back: the explosion, the smoke, the blaring alarms... the pain.

I force my eyes open, blinking against the sunlight streaming through large windows. It takes a moment for my vision to clear, but when it does, I'm stunned by what I see. I'm lying in a spacious room, the walls painted in soft, warm tones, with the light dancing off polished wooden floors. Outside, through the open window, I can see the ocean—a brilliant blue stretching endlessly towards the horizon. Exotic birds chirp somewhere nearby, their song weaving through the gentle rustle of palm trees.

Where... am I?

Everything feels off-kilter, like I'm caught between two worlds. My body is heavy, my limbs still aching from... what exactly? It all feels jumbled, disjointed. I try to sit up, wincing as pain flares up along my ribs. That's when I notice the tray beside me, piled high with fruits. I reach for a mango, the vibrant orange flesh almost glowing in the sunlight. As I bite into it, the sweet juice bursts onto my tongue, and for a second, I close my eyes, letting myself get lost in the simple pleasure of it.

But it doesn't last. My instincts are sharper than that, honed from years of running and fighting. I hear the soft creak of a door opening and immediately tense, my hand darting towards the knife on the tray without even thinking. My pulse quickens as I tighten my grip, ready to strike if I have to.

A figure steps into the room, and my breath catches in my throat. It's... a woman. She's wearing simple but elegant clothes, her dark hair swept back in a loose bun, and there's something in her eyes—something soft, yet piercing, as if she's searching for something.

"Elouise," she says, her voice gentle, almost hesitant. "It's alright... You're safe now."

Her words don't make sense. Safe? That's not a word that belongs in my world. I narrow my eyes, my grip on the knife tightening. But there's something... familiar about her, something I can't quite place. My mind struggles to connect the dots, fragments of memories that slip through my fingers like sand.

Then it hits me—a flash of recognition, like a lightning bolt. Those eyes... the same color, the same warmth I used to see in the mirror when I was younger, before everything went dark.

"Who...?" My voice comes out raspy, barely more than a whisper. „Mom.....?!?"

Her eyes glisten with unshed tears as she takes a cautious step closer. "It's me, Ellie... It's your mom. Mary."

My heart stops. For a moment, I can't breathe, can't move. Mom? That word... it feels foreign on my tongue, like something out of a story I once knew but forgot. I was seventeen when they took me—when Umbrella ripped me from everything I knew and twisted my mind into something unrecognizable. I've been fighting to survive ever since, but... her? I never thought I'd see her again, never even let myself dream of it.

I stare at her, trying to reconcile the woman in front of me with the ghost of a memory they tried to erase. My hands shake, and the knife clatters to the floor, forgotten. She takes another step, her arms opening as if to embrace me, but she stops, waiting, not wanting to force me.

For a long moment, neither of us move. I can feel my throat closing up, my eyes burning. Then, before I realize what I'm doing, I take a shaky step forward. The moment I reach her, her arms close around me, and suddenly I'm no longer the battle-hardened fighter I've become. I'm just... a daughter who finally found her way home.