I was driving. My last memories are of my sister talking about some online novel for the third time that day. I was doing my best to tune her out. At the same time I could not help but think that the events in this piece of "literature" were a bit ridiculous. When I couldn’t take the chatter anymore, I took my eyes off the road to tell her to shut up and in that second everything stopped, there was only me and an endless ocean of black. 

At first, I tried to swim around but I either had no limbs or I could not feel them. This brought several minutes of panic but I may not have had any limbs to begin with, yeah that sounds right. I gave up on swimming. The darkness was heavy and staring at me somehow. No, that can’t be right. Maybe it was leading me somewhere? I stared into it and there was definitely a vague shape there but I could not distinguish any features. Maybe it didn’t have any? That odd thought brought me back to the surface. I opened my eyes. 

I was looking up at a ceiling I did not recognize. The color was wrong, a sickly shade of pink no sane person over the age of five would pick. There was a chandelier-looking thing in the shape of a sphere that was a light shade of pink. 

This was not my room. I took a few moments to entertain the thought that I  might be in a hotel. After I crashed the car that seemed almost reasonable or maybe a hospital would be more likely. I sat up and vaguely realized that I did have limbs after all. Looking around, I was not sure I could afford a hotel this comfortable. The bed was twice the size of my bed at home and much, much more comfortable. The covers were soft, thick, and the same stupid shade of pink as the ceiling and walls, apparently. 

Maybe this is hell, I thought wryly. Next to the bed was a chair and on it was a woman I had never seen before but I chose to ignore that. The woman was not moving so I half convinced myself she would be the weird shadow thing from the darkness.

 On the far right was a window taller than me and at least eight feet long decorated with curtains, the ugliest shade of pink I had ever seen. It occurred to me that the window might be a door to a patio or balcony. I could picture myself chilling on a balcony overlooking the ocean. I could sit on a fancy chair with a drink in my hand and watch the waves all day, but could I? I didn’t even know who the room belonged to.

 Opposite from the window-door-thing, I could see a tall wooden two door dresser with a mirror on one of the doors and little intricate carvings on the side I could see. Not that I could see what the carvings were of, it just looked like scribbles from where I was sitting. A small table and a chair were close to the corner with the window. Maybe it was the angle but they almost seemed child sized which was ridiculous. Something else that struck me about all these things was how new and how sturdy they seemed. The wooden objects like the table and dresses looked heavy, the wood in the legs was thick. They were also all in different shades of pink but that was hardly surprising. There was a sofa near the dresser, a large and heavy looking rug in the center of the room, a big dollhouse-looking thing, is this the bedroom of a child?

Why is everything pink? 

I raise a hand to rub my eyes, half expecting the room to disappear when something else catches my attention.

Those are not my hands.

 The skin color is about the same but the hands…

 They are the hands of a child. 

I absentmindedly reach for my hair and can’t find it. My hair is shorter than it should be. It barely reaches my shoulders when I know for a fact my hair almost reaches my knees. The few strands I push forward are the wrong color too, they are red. As much as I like red hair, my hair color is more of a dark brown, maybe even black. Casting an uncertain look at the motionless human on the chair next to me, I slowly crawl over to the edge of the bed taking note of how long it took me to get there. I was smaller than I should be. I climbed down, either the bed was really tall or I was short. Walking over to the mirror on the dresser, I take an anxious peek.

That was not me.

The face looking at me was that of a child. Her hair was a bright, unrealistic red, it was short and tied in a ponytail. Her skin color was a shade of brown similar to mine but slightly darker. The most unsettling thing about her, even stranger than the red hair, were her impossibly pale blue eyes. At first sight I had assumed her eyes were white until I noticed the blue.

 I also realized I knew this kid. 

It was the cover image for that online novel that Nadia was always going on about but she was older in the cover. Of course, after hearing about it for so long I must have had a dream about being in the novel but why did I have to become the villain of the novel? Anastasia Salvestro, the typical engaged to the crown prince, noble lady that is mad at the protagonist because the prince likes her. She is some kind of noble in a semi but not quite modern setting, so there’s electricity and I think dragons. Maybe there’s magic too? Why couldn’t I dream about a story I actually liked?

It was a miracle I remembered anything about the story at all!

Whatever, it didn’t change the fact that I was not supposed to be her. 

‘Damn is this dream realistic,’ I thought to myself after I pinched myself and was surprised it hurt. 

‘Maybe if I go back to sleep I will wake up in my own body and things will make sense again?’ 

With that thought, I turned and started to head back to the bed when I realized that the person from the chair was watching me. 

I didn’t know her but she vaguely looked like the protagonist of the novel. I thought back to my spotty knowledge of the story, the main character and villain are the same age. The lady in front of me was dressed in, of all things, a maid outfit and she seemed to be at least 25. Therefore not the main character, and not the person who is going to get me executed. Wait, does Anasatasia die at the end of the story? And I’m not Anastasia! I can’t be.

“Gabriela,” I half surprised myself by saying. 

Gabriela Landgeage, what is wrong with the person who created names like those! The mother of the main character and the same name as my stepmother. That’s right, Nadia mentioned it… repeatedly. The Landgeage family was once a noble house that fell from grace when the grandfather of the protagonist blinked the wrong way in front of the king or some equally petty thing. The family lost their fortune and were reduced to finding menial labor… like a maid.

“Good morning Lady Anastasia,” the lady on the chair said at last.

It speaks!

The former lady is tall or maybe child-me is just short. Her skin is pale and sparsely freckled. Her hair is an unrealistic shade of orange that I am almost positive the protagonist shares. Her maid dress is long and just looks like a simple black dress with a white apron. Her eyes are a weird shade of purple or maybe pink that the protagonist also shares. Of course, the ridiculous colors of the main character stand out. 

I wondered whether or not to answer when the fake novel person decided to speak again.

I stopped listening almost as soon as she started speaking. 

The eldest daughter of the Salvestro family needs to be educated, and she should be getting ready for the tutor to come over. He can’t be kept waiting! I assume his head will explode if proper protocol is not followed to the f***ing letter but I don’t say that out loud. 

My father has asked me to have lunch with him, as well as something about having to visit my mother before her time comes. Okay, sick mother and a father who, err, exists? The way the maid had said what my father had asked had made it seem like more of an order than a request. I stare blankly around until something else catches my eye, my sleeping gown is also pink Lovely…

“Where is your daughter?” I asked. I decided that I wanted to see the main character before I woke up, because this was all some dream, right?

That shut her up.

I could not tell whether she was offended or not but the silence before she started talking again was quite awkward.

“I know you used to sneak her into the room when the tutor came over but she will get into significant trouble if she does it again as will I.” Gabriela says slowly.

I got the feeling this is not the first time she has had to say that. That line sounded rehearsed

“Education is important,” I say but with no conviction.

In my head, I counted down the seconds until I woke up from what had to be a dream brought about by crashing a car into a tree. 

It was either that or the afterlife was more annoying than I realized.

“She is being trained to be a maid. She does not need it.” Once again, Gabriela was speaking slowly, rehashing an old argument maybe. I bet it pained her to have to say that. I wondered how thorough her education was.

“Don’t you want her to-” She cut me off.

“What I want is for you to get ready. The tutor has been standing in the study for at least 5 minutes. It will not do for you to be late, again.” 

She rushed over to the dresser and my protest that I could dress myself died when she picked up a pink dress. As she fumbled to get it on me, I knew I would not be able to figure that cloth mess on my own. Maybe the setting is not as modern as I thought.