Reborn As Lydia Martin

The world was a kaleidoscope of muted colors and hushed sounds, a stark contrast to the blinding white and deafening silence of her last moments. A soft, unfamiliar bed cradled her, and the scent of jasmine filled the air, not the stale smell of her attic prison.

"Wake up, honey. You're going to be late for school." A gentle voice, brimming with warmth she hadn't known in years, drifted from beyond the closed door. Footsteps receded, leaving her in a bewildered silence.

Her eyes fluttered open, scanning the unfamiliar room. Pink walls, a vanity table laden with glittering cosmetics, and a closet overflowing with designer clothes. It was a teenager's dream, a stark, painful mockery of her own childhood. Panic flared, a cold hand squeezing her chest. She wasn't home. She wasn't dead. Where was she?

Her gaze snagged on a framed photo on the nightstand. Two women, one older, one younger, both with striking red hair. Recognition, sharp and disorienting, pierced through her. Lydia Martin. And her mother, Natalie. From a TV show. Teen Wolf.

Her hands flew to her hair, finding a cascade of unfamiliar, impossibly vibrant red locks. She stumbled towards a mirror, her reflection a stranger's face staring back. A beautiful, popular stranger. "Oh my god! Why am I Lydia Martin!" The whispered words were hers, but the voice was not.