Meagan loses her family

Meagan jolted awake, her vision blurred and her body heavy, as if anchored to the bed. A wave of nausea washed over her, and she tried to draw a deep breath, but her lungs burned with every attempt. Fire… At the thought, Renee's charred flesh flashed through her mind, and Meagan's world went blank again.

When she came to, she was alone in a hospital room. The sterile walls and the hum of medical equipment told her she was in the medical unit at the military base. With a forceful pull, she yanked out the IV drip. She had to talk to Mason. The boys' birthday—how had it gone? She moved frantically, her legs wobbling as a dizzy spell hit her. She steadied herself against the wall, her eyes scanning the room until she spotted her locker. Stumbling toward it, she grabbed her phone.

Her hands trembled violently as she dialed Mason's number, but there was no reception. No connection. 

"Hey, Meagan, you should be in bed right now. You can't be moving around!" Meagan turned to see Captain Allen Lee, the camp commandant, standing in the hallway. The sunlight filtering through the window behind him made her squint. He looked at her with an expression she couldn't quite place, was it pity? Discomfort? 

"Please," Meagan begged, her voice cracking. "I need to speak to my husband. My squad… what happened to them? Did they recover the bodies?" Her face contorted with anguish as she sagged to the floor.

"Meagan, their bodies have been sent to their families. We've…"

Meagan's head snapped up, her eyes blazing with a murderous glint. "What do you mean? Why am I here and not at home? Why am I not with my family?" Her scream echoed through the corridor, making the walls vibrate.

"You were unconscious, Meagan. No one should have survived that blast. We thought you wouldn't make it." Allen Lee kept his gaze averted, his fingers nervously tugging at his belt.

"Have they been buried? How long was I out?" 

"Just two weeks. I'm sorry, Meagan." His soft apology felt sincere, and it only deepened the ache in her chest.

Meagan scrambled to her feet, her eyes wide and haunted. "Then I have no business being here. I need Mason." Her voice thickened with emotion as she said his name. "I'm leaving immediately. My husband can bring in the best doctors in the world. I need to speak with him now. Everything will be better once I—"

"I'm sorry, Meagan." Allen Lee's voice cut through her words like a knife. "Your husband and kids were involved in an accident that day too. No one survived. Their remains are currently at the morgue."

Numb. Stunned. Devastated. The ringing in Meagan's ears refused to stop. She was sure her heart had stopped beating because she could feel herself soaring into the sky, her body numb and weightless. 

"Yes, this is death, finally," Meagan whispered, her voice filled with pain and surrender. She was done with life. That was her last thought as she blacked out.

---

The alarm clock shrilled in the quiet morning, jolting Meagan awake. She panted, her hair a tangled mess, as she threw off the bedsheet. This was the norm for her now, returning to the day she lost her life in her dreams. Every night, the pain was the same. She was still the broken woman life had turned her into. She thought her heart had given out, but somehow, she was still living.

The doorbell buzzed incessantly, but Meagan was oblivious to the sound. She walked numbly and expressionlessly into the kitchen, as was her routine, and drowned herself in liquor. The place reeked of dirt, mold, and alcohol. She had fired all the staff months ago.

Meagan hadn't realized just how wealthy her husband was. The cellar was stocked with enough wine to last a decade. 

After regaining consciousness and returning home, she had been asked to identify her family's remains. But… her hands shook as she relived that moment. She hadn't been able to recognize Mason or the boys. When asked to describe their physical appearance, she realized she had only ever seen the triplets in headshots during video calls. She didn't know their shoe sizes, their builds, or even their distinct features. 

"I'm not human," Meagan slurred, her voice thick with emotion. The guilt was unbearable.

She picked up Marcel's secret journal and ran her fingers over the words. She hadn't known he wrote like her, the way he shaped his letters, the romantic tone of his entries. He wrote about the triplets: the gruff Masjesty and the kind-hearted Marcus. They had shared a bond she hadn't fully understood.

Even as worthless as she was to them, Marcel had mentioned her countless times in his journal. She hadn't realized how much she had missed.

Mason's phone chimed continuously, irritating Meagan. She picked it up gently, treating it with the care it deserved. It contained videos and pictures of the boys and her beloved husband. She made sure the battery never ran out.

"Hi, Mason Stewart. This is just a reminder that you promised to send clothes and toys to the Scarlet Orphanage Home. It's been three months past the date you said you'd come." Meagan read the words but didn't care. She didn't understand them anymore. Nothing mattered.

"Go to hell!" Meagan slammed her hands on the table, her breath coming in ragged pants. She didn't feel the shards of broken glass digging into her flesh.

The sound of the front gate opening froze her in place. She was sure she hadn't invited anyone. Hell, no one knew her. Everyone she had ever known had been reduced to ashes.

"Great. I get to kill someone. I won't be miserable alone," Meagan muttered, staggering to the door. She picked up the baseball bat leaning against the wall, as she opened the door.

With a fierce battle cry, Meagan swung the bat with all her might, blindly unleashing her rage on the unknown intruder. But instead of connecting with her target, she felt herself flying forward, her face slamming into the floor with a loud thud.

As her face hit the ground, Meagan's ears rang, and her vision blurred. The bat slipped from her grasp, rolling away with a low thud. Dazed, she struggled to lift her head, only to meet the piercing gaze of...