I opened my eyes and couldn’t help myself.

“Fuck.”

It wasn’t difficult to realise this was the wrong fucking body.

I squinted it's tiny eyes at the low ceiling, waiting for the blurriness to clear. It didn't, and I groaned out loud as I considered the possibility that not only was it small and weak and human, but it also had questionable eyesight. My voice burned at the sound, like it hadn't been used in a while and, confused, I tried to sit up.

Bad idea. A flash of pain in my left arm had me sinking back down into the pillow, blinking back a wave of nausea. My body felt like it was weighed down with bricks, muscles aching like I'd been stamped on by something particularly large and vicious.

"Hello?" I called out, huffing as I managed to loll my neck from side to side, looking around.

The room was shabby: a twin bed took up half the space, no windows and a scuffed stone floor. A distinct smell of mould floated in the air, emanating from the scratchy woollen blanket that was currently draped over my lower half.

There was a faint thudding sound from below, and I sighed, closing my eyes as it materialised into footsteps. How had this happened? Everything felt like it was covered in a thick, dense fog, my memories just... gone.

The door burst open and I watched curiously as a woman, brown hair shot through with grey, rushed in, eyes growing wide as soon as she saw me blinking up at her. She froze, hands gripping onto the doorframe so hard her knuckles turned white.

"Oz," she murmured, suddenly pale. "You're... awake?"

I tried to smile but the muscles wouldn't cooperate and it turned into more of a pained grimace. "Yep," I said, still creeped out by how young the voice was. Was I - Oz - a teenager?

Was I cursed?

"It's been weeks," she said, still making no move to come closer. "We thought you were going to die." 

"What happened?" I asked, eyes flitting to the bandages covering my arm. 

"You... well, you had an accident."

"What kind of accident?" I probed, wincing at the effort of speaking. Maybe knowing what had happened to 'Oz' could shed some light on why on earth I'd ended up in his body?

To my frustration, she shook her head suddenly. "We don't need to talk about it now. You've just woken up - let me call your sister." Her thin frame disappeared behind the door and once again I stared at the ceiling. 

That was weird. I thought she might be Oz's mother... but that reaction wasn't one of a mother seeing her son open his eyes for the first time in weeks. If anything, she seemed shaken, apprehensive. 

Another series of thumps downstairs, and ten seconds later a short teenage girl barrelled in. "Oz!" she gasped, blonde hair flying as she launched herself at the bed, hands fluttering over the dead weight that was my body. "Oz, oh - I can't believe it."

To my horror, her brown eyes started to look distinctly wet. I smiled up nervously. She must have been able to see the confusion in my face as she swallowed, backing up until she was no longer half leant over me.

"Oh, that's right. Do you," she stumbled over the words a little, voice small, "do you know who I am?"

I made the decision: better to be honest. "No," I croaked, a little apologetically. "I'm sorry, I can't really remember... well, much of anything really."

She nodded, hands coming up to blot the tears welling in the corner of her eyes, back straightening. "The healer said with the blood loss and the fever... you might not."

My brow furrowed. Blood loss and fever? "What happened?" I asked.

The girl opened her mouth to reply but was cut off.

"Anabelle," the woman's voice rang out in warning. Anabelle bit off what she was about to say, looking down at the floor.

The older lady strode in, quickly taking her hand. "As you can see, he's ok." She frowned, squinting at me. "He's just woken up though, we should leave him to rest." 

"It's fine-" I started to say, but she shook her head. 

"The healer said you need sleep," she said firmly. "We need you better, which means no stress for now." The words seemed to be imbued with some kind of deeper meaning, and I watched as she caught Anabelle's eye.

Now that she'd mentioned it, I suddenly felt exhausted, like somehow the thin straw mattress was the softest, warmest cloud, pulling my limbs in until they sank down and down. My vision was dimming, but my brain was too tired to be concerned, the two figures in the doorway slowly disappearing with each heavy blink.

I slept.

*

The next time I woke there was a chair next to me, a dozing Anabelle curled up in it. For a second I watched her, wondering if I shared any of the freckles, the pale skin and blonde hair. 

This time it was easier to move; I didn't know how much time had passed but I felt a thousand times better than before. Slowly, I pulled myself up to lean against the wall at the head of the bed, gaze running over my limbs. Thin, young (just about an adult) and - yes, freckled. My arm was still bandaged, and I held it in front of my face, a little creeped out by how delicate my hands were. Gone were the thousand tiny scars, proof of the senior summonings I'd accomplished. These were new, the slender fingers more suited to... something less impressive, in any case. I curled my fist, spine itching at the sensation of the new muscles moving, everything a beat delayed. 

It seemed my shifting woke the girl. She startled, eyes flying open as she saw me awake and non-horizontal.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"Hey," I greeted, trying to sound brotherly.

"Hey," she beamed, jumping up and grabbing a cup on the side. "How're you feeling?" She stepped closer, gesturing to press it into my hands. 

For a second I panicked, wondering if it was going to slip right out, but it seemed I'd mastered the fingers at least. Walking might be another story. I took the cup with a mumbled thanks, wrapping my hands around it clumsily and taking a small sip. Whatever it was, it was lukewarm and faintly bitter, but tasted familiar. 

"A lot better," I admitted, setting it down in my lap. 

Better, but in sore need of some answers. 

I let some of the fear shine through in my face, keeping my voice soft and small. "I'm just so confused. I don't know where I am, who I am... or what even happened to me?" 

Predictably, her eyes grew wide with concern. "Oh Oz, please don't worry. That's easy to explain - and I'm sure you'll remember soon." She glanced at the door before something decided settled in her face. "Your name’s Ozterly Taylor. We're in Lowgate, you know, near Peter's City."

Inwardly I groaned. The middle of fucking nowhere. Great.

"The reason ma’s so worried is because you're supposed to take the exam next week - the one for The Academy, and... well, to be honest, she pinned all her hopes on you passing it. Baby June is eating up all the savings and what with your Talent, we hoped you'd make it in."

I nodded, deciding to skip over the mention of another sibling. Far more interesting was that this kid had a Talent, and somehow I hadn't picked up on it.

"But why was I unconscious for so long?" I went with first.

Anabelle bit her lip, and, panicking, I let out a sniffle for dramatic effect. It seemed to work. "Well…” she said slowly, looking down, “you tried to. To kill yourself." The words were so quiet that I had a brief moment of thinking I'd misheard. 

Oz had tried to kill himself? Suddenly the bandage on my arm made much more sense and my stomach flipped thinking about what might lie underneath.

But... why?

I must have mumbled it out loud as Anabelle shook her head sadly. "I don't know why you did it Oz. None of us do. I mean, there was the problem with your friends, but that was last year - I thought it had gotten better."

“A problem with my friends?" I asked, my eyebrows raising. 

"Well, it doesn't matter," she hurried on uncomfortably before sighing. "Honestly I'm just so glad you're ok. I really didn't know if you were going to make it. You had a pretty bad infection, you should have heard some of the things you were saying when the fever was peaking."

Oh? I raised my eyebrow encouragingly. 

She grinned. "All this stuff about Lucifer, and rituals... it was pretty weird."

The smile on my face froze, as the word pinged something buried right at the back of my mind, a faint memory stirring and raising its head. Lucifer? That's right, I was right there, it was just about to tell me-

A blinding pain split through my mind like a bolt of lightning, so harsh and bright that I temporarily lost vision. It was gone a few seconds later, and I warily cracked open my eyes, fighting back the dizziness and raising my head from where I'd buried it in between my hands.

Anabelle was staring at me in horror. "Ma was right, we shouldn't be talking about this now," she said worriedly, standing up. "I'll bring you something to eat and then you need to sleep." 

I opened my mouth before closing it again with a click. I didn't want to move too quickly here. Nodding, I shuffled back into the pillow, reaching over for the tea again as she left. I let the surface settle, peering into the murky reflection. Two light, almond-shaped eyes wobbled back at me, an upturned nose and freckles, dark brows cutting through my face. Not... unattractive, I thought, although it was hard to tell. 

My eyes fell to my arm again, and curiosity got the better of me. Feeling weirdly guilty, I gently tugged the end of the grey bandage free, slowly unwinding it. The more fabric that unravelled, the more stained it became, until my heart was beating out a fast, uneasy rhythm, half dreading what I would find under there. At last, the last coil slipped free and my breath caught as I saw the wound.

Four long, sharp gashes lay down the length of my forearm, skin bruised an ugly, swollen red. The scars were bright and fresh, the scabs still papery thin, and after a few seconds of taking them in, I didn't want to see them anymore. Quickly and efficiently, I redid the wrapping, feeling an unwelcome pang of sympathy for whoever Oz was and whatever it is that he'd had to go through to make him do something like that. 

Four cuts. Each one must have been agony. God - four. He really wasn't planning on coming back. 

It was just in time; Anabelle pushed the door open with her hip, a tray of broth and some bread balanced in her hands. My stomach chose that moment to make itself known, a long, protracted howl echoing loudly in the room. I grinned sheepishly, suddenly aware of how starving I was. 

My new sister watched with mild horror as I devoured the meal, slurping up the soup and inhaling the bread in about two minutes flat. Once I was done, the familiar tiredness started rise again, but I pushed it down, sitting up straighter. 

"So, what's The Academy? And - my Talent?" I knew what a Talent was, obviously. And I was pretty sure 'The Academy' that she had referred to was All Saints Academy, down in Gabriel's City, but it didn't hurt to check. 

Anabelle nodded thoughtfully, sitting back down in the usual chair and drawing her feet up into a cross-legged position. She wrinkled her nose. "It's weird how you remember some things and not others," she said offhandedly. I stiffened but she carried on. "So The Academy is the largest in the East - it's really prestigious and only takes around fifty pupils each year. Your family gets like a merit prize if you're accepted, as they know for a lot of us on the outskirts losing the help is hard." We both traded a look that seemed to agree not to delve further into that, or mention 'baby June'. 

"Right," I nodded, hoping she'd hurry up and get to my Talent. 

"They only take those with Talents - doesn't matter how large or small." She looked away for a second before meeting my eyes. "We didn't actually know you had one until a few months ago... but anyway, those who get through the year at All Saints and actually graduate end up doing their Devil's Apprenticeship. Which, you know, is crazy - it's basically a one way ticket into Hell." Her eyes were shining with excitement. 

I nodded, trying to hold back the frustration in my voice. If only she knew I'd come from Hell - exactly where, I wasn't sure, but I was definitely no stranger to the place. "So what's my Talent?" 

Anabelle's grin softened slightly, her gaze catching on my arm before guilty flitting back to my face. "You can see death," she said quietly.

My eyes widened. Wait, that was a pretty strong one. I suddenly felt a rush of excitement. Maybe being shoved into this body was actually a blessing in disguise-

"...only on dead people though."

My head shot up. "What do you mean 'only on dead people'?"

Anabelle had the decency to look a little embarrassed. "Well, it turned out that your Talent is pretty, you know, untrained. You once told me it was like seeing little shadows flittering over someone who had just died."

I struggled to pull myself together. So, I could see death on people who were already dead. 

"That-" is quite possibly the most useless Talent I've ever heard of, "-sounds pretty cool," I managed to say.

"That's what you said before!" Anabelle grinned, before she seemed to remember that I was supposed to be resting. "I got a little carried away, but I'm supposed to let you sleep now," she said primly, getting to her feet and grabbing the tray. "But, just to say, I hope you do end up taking the entrance exam. I'm sure they'd take you - anything to do with Death is always really popular."

"Thanks," I replied weakly, slumping down into the blanket. 

As soon as the door closed I let out a sigh. "I guess that's that then," I grumbled, scrubbing my good hand over my face, trying to bat away the prickling fatigue.

Despite my 'Talent', I was still planning on taking the exam. At the moment it seemed like my only feasible option of getting back to Hell, even if I had a one in a million chance of actually making it through the school. It would at least give me a few months to do some scouting around, see if I could pick up anything else or jog my memory.

Because one thing I was sure of: me waking up in this body was intentional. The question was, who had intended it?