(Author's Note: I can't read/write Italian or Spanish. All of these translations come from Google Translate, so I have no clue how accurate they are. But the idea is that you don't understand what they're saying like Mirabel doesn't. Again, don't worry; this language barrier won't last long for our characters- promise! Enjoy!)

"Si è già svegliata?" Voices….. "Non ancora. È così da un po' di tempo ormai. Mi sto preoccupando un po'." "Il dottore dovrebbe essere qui presto." Unfamiliar voices….

Nugh, my head. What happened? Where am I? Who's in the room with me? Am I even in a room? My eyes gradually fluttered open to see myself staring up at a white ceiling. There was this throbbing pain all throughout my body but mostly in my head. It felt like behind my eyes was pulsing…

Twelve hours after I blacked out in the sea, my consciousness began to re-awaken.

I didn't recognize what it was at first, but something cold and damp- which turned out to be a cloth dipped in water- dabbed my forehead. It didn't help the ache, making my eyes wince a little. I felt whoever was dabbing my face physically perk up beside me. "Ehi, Massimo! Si sta svegliando! Guarda! Si sta svegliando!" Ugh, does he have to talk so loud? His young voice rang through my ears, which literally made things worse. My eyes instinctively shut again, and when they reopened, I found the two men from the boat earlier hovering over me worriedly. Both were watching me with such intent, like they were searching for any sign of life in my expression.

That's when the coughing fit started. Before I knew it, I was hacking up what felt to be a lung. "Facile, facile," the one-armed man cooed, rubbing my back with his hand. "lei sta bene?" The curly-haired man asked the older, glazing at him anxiously. "Deve aver ingoiato molta acqua di mare. Dalle un minute," he replied, still rubbing my back. When that hellish fit was finally over, I peered back at the two fellows warily. It was my first good look at their faces.

The older one had this air of parental kindness about him. He was weathered, but in a sort of gentle, honest way. Like someone who had been working his whole life outdoors, probably on the sea. And the other man….. Our eyes met for the very first time; him flashing me an elated grin. Oh boy… Was he handsome! He had this rugged, also weathered charm about him. Very tall, very slender, very tan, and obviously very strong. His arms were definitely NOT purple, making me think that I saw a mirage or something back in the water. His eyes were emerald green- something I'd never seen before. Very beautiful, stunning even…. He was, indeed, a breath-taking young man, about my age or so. Maybe a year or two older.

All what I described happened in the span of two seconds in reality. The current situation- that of me being in a stranger's house- hit me very, very fast once I was conscious again. My hands gripped the side of the bed as my head shot every which way rapidly. You could tell I was immediately terrified.

"Where am I?! Where is this?! What happened?!" I made the mistake of suddenly sitting up really fast. The younger man immediately put his hand on my shoulder, carefully pushing me back down to lay on the bed. "Hey! Non sederti così in fretta! Ecco, sdraiati," he told me in a concerned tone. I blinked at him like I didn't understand a word he was saying. Maybe that's because I didn't understand a word he was saying! Panic gripped me all over as I prayed one of them might be able to help me.

Ignoring what was probably an order to stay laying down, I instantly shot my upper half back up again. "Where are we?! What time is it?! How long was I passed out for?!" Watching me in a sort of stunned awe for a minute, the two men merely glanced at each other in pure disbelief and confusion. "Cosa sta dicendo?" The curly-haired man, with his strong hand still on me, asked the older man. He studied my face ponderingly, rubbing his finger below his bottom lip. "Non lo so. Non parlo spagnolo," he soon answered. I eyed the two of them like they were the crazy ones.

"Listen! You have to tell me where I am! I have to get home as soon as possible!" Both men blinked at me, now perplexed by the urgentness in my tone. I wanted to bang my head on the wall; and not just to get arid of my pounding headache. They again, looked at one another, more confused now than ever. "Che dici?" The younger inquired to me. I could simple ogle them in disbelief, the reality of the scenario finally landing on my shoulders.

"Wait. Can you…. speak Spanish?" I was afraid to ask. When my question was met with silent, muddled stares, I felt my heart sink into my stomach. "Oh my god, you can't! You can't speak the same language as me! Which must mean….. that I'm not in Columbia anymore! Oh my god…. Oh my god! What am I going to do?! How am I going to get home?! I don't even know where I am!" You cannot imagine the amount of sheer, unbridled panic I was experiencing just then. Neither could the two men in the room with me.

The younger man's hand reached out to grab my shoulder a second time. He held me with a firm yet not painful grip. "Ehi, calmati. Starai bene," he tried to sound reassuring. I gave him an incredulous look. "I don't know what you're saying! I can't understand you!" "Sei spagnolo?" The older man next asked me, leaning in toward me slightly. My mouth still agape, my eyes drifted from him to the younger man's face. I felt like I was going to burst out in a flood of tears any second. "No…. No, I have to go home…. I have to go back home."

It was their turn to panic when I started trying to climb out from the bed. The younger man did his best to keep me on it, looking all sorts of worried. "No, non ti muovere! Ti sei appena svegliato!" He tried to push me back down with more effort this time. "I have to figure out where I am and how to get back home!" Luckily, I was able to break free from his grasp and slip around him off the bed. I thought the older man might try to stop me but a knock at the door called him away. He glanced at the bedroom door anxiously, then back to the younger man now reaching for me. "Quello sarà il dottore. Non lasciarla andare, Alberto," then he left the room.

The curly-haired man tried again to take my arm. "Non dovresti stare in piedi così! Non stai ancora abbastanza bene!" He pleaded with me. But I was determined to get out of there and find my way back to Encanto as soon as possible. "I'm sorry! Thank you for rescuing me, but I really have to go!" "Dove stai andando così veloce? Non puoi sdraiarti ancora un po'?" He sounded like he was starting to get upset, but not an "angry" upset; more like a "concerned" upset. I nearly dodged his hand this time as he made yet another attempt to take hold of me and put me back onto the bed. Still staring back his way, my hand grabbed the bedroom's doorknob. "I'm sorry, but I have to leave!" And then I pulled open the door.

The door opened, much to both of our surprise, not out into the hallway where the older man vanished in, but into Casita's kitchen! Our kitchen! I couldn't believe my eyes! I opened the bedroom door to find my home on the other side! How…. How is that even possible?! Is it… that I can open doors to and from our house? Is that…. Is that my gift? Had I finally gotten my gift, my miracle after all this time….?

The younger man looked more shocked than I was. His mouth was agape and his arms limp at his sides. He took a single step forward, not trying to stop me from going inside now, which I did. Without another look back at the man, I wasted no time running into the kitchen, forgetting that I slammed the door shut behind me.

And that move, dear reader, turned out to be very important.