Blessed By The Moon

Chapter 1

I thought I was dead before I felt the cool splash of water on my face.

My eyelids fluttered, heavy from exhaustion, the sunlight glaring painfully against them. It took a moment before I managed to blink the world into focus—a clear blue sky, immediately hidden by a woman standing above me with a concerned face. She splashed more water, stopping only when she saw me stirring.

"Oh dear, oh dear... Howell, she's awake! Do you hear me? She's alive!"

Her voice sounded far away, muffled by the throbbing in my head. I groaned, trying to make sense of where I was. The alleyway was dark and unfamiliar, the street empty. My arm ached, bruised, and my head felt like it had slammed into something hard. My shirt was shredded, soaked with blood, but strangely, none of it was mine. No wounds. No explanation.

"Look at you, my dear," the woman said softly, her voice sweet but tinged with worry. "Someone really roughed you up. Can you tell me your name?"

I opened my mouth to answer, but nothing came. My mind was a blank slate—no name, no memories, no idea why I was here. Panic bubbled up inside me, my breath catching in my throat. I didn't know whose blood stained my clothes, or how I ended up in this place. Tears welled up, blurring the edges of my vision, and I frantically looked around, desperate for something, anything familiar.

"Hey, it's okay," a man's voice cut through the fog in my brain. Howell, I guessed. His tone was steady, calm. "We've got you. But we need to call the police, and for that, we need your name. Someone must be worried sick about you."

"I... I don't remember." My voice cracked as the tears fell freely, my throat parched and raw. Everything hurt.

"It's alright, love," the woman cooed, her hand on my shoulder. "You don't have to remember right now. Howell, should we call the police? Maybe child protective services?"

The man paused, his face hardening for a moment. "Look at her," he said, his voice tight. "Blood on her shirt, bruised up—what'll they do? Stick her in the system, leave her there until they figure something out? No. That's not the right thing."

He knelt down, his gaze softening as he looked me in the eyes. Despite the rough lines etched into his face, there was kindness there. "Do you remember anything at all, child?"

I shook my head weakly, barely able to speak. "No."

He nodded as though he had expected it. "Alright, Alison, we're taking her home with us. She needs a hot shower, a good meal, and a safe place to rest. If anything turns up on the news, we'll call the police. If not, we'll give her time, see if her memories come back before we make any decisions."

"Okay, dear," Alison agreed, her expression softening into relief. "Come on, love, let's get you up. We'll take care of you...err, we have to think of something to call you until you remember your real name.""

As she helped me to my feet, I felt the weight of their kindness wash over me, a gratefulness I couldn't even begin to express. My mind was still blank, but one image remained clear—the sky. The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes.

It took me a second, the only thing that felt right was the first thing I saw when I opened my eyes, a bright blue sky. You can call me Skye," I whispered, the name falling from my lips like a lifeline.

Alison smiled warmly. "Now, that's a beautiful name, my dear. Let's get you cleaned up."

Few hours later

I was enjoying a delicious BBQ plate that felt like it was made an angel, well it was, the angel Alison and her angel husband Howell that saved my life, when I heard the front door slam and a guy enter, a tall, slightly muscular, rebel looking guy with chocolaty hair and brown eyes.