A lump forms in my throat as I stare at the sleek lines of the car, the glint of moonlight off its hood. My heart pounds in my chest, a mix of fear and anticipation making my mouth dry. I can feel the weight of Joel's gaze on me, the question hanging unspoken in the air between us. Meeting his eyes, I see the spark of mischief there, the thrill of the unknown. In that moment, I knew I'm fully committed. The rush of that moment is intoxicating, my heart matching the thump of the bass.

The soft swish of liquid, the smooth, cool feeling of glass beneath my fingers. The world goes dark as I close my eyes, a soft smile makes itself at home, the scent of molasses and apples filling my nose. A kiss of glass on my lips, the warmth of a smooth drink. As always, its familiar taste; comforting. Opening my eyes, I take another second to enjoy the smell, the slight tingle of liquid under my nose. 

Passing the bottle back to my friend, it's quickly replaced with the taste of menthol. Smoke swirls over the tongue, and glides along the roof of my mouth. A slight itch as the smoke, ever persistent, finds my left eye. Reaching up, rubbing with my palm, I watch as the world flies by in the window. The honking horns and blasted stereo surround and encompass me, a final joy ride.

A taste of tar on my tongue as I lick the filter. Hands stinging as I slap and beat on the dashboard. My cheeks burn from the uncontained smile, and laughs rip themselves from my chest. The thrill of the moment, the freedom of the night, it's electric.

A wide and manic smile cuts into the features of Joel’s normally calm face.

“WHOOOOO!”

The heavy thunk and impact of a fist as he beats the roof, adding to the drum of anticipation.

“GO! GO! GO!”

Screaming in excitement as the stolen car weaves through interstate traffic. As the headlights are switched off, fear mixes with pleasure, having no doubt that my expression mirrors his own. Minutes pass by as the amber of the taillights stream into white, yellows and blues.

This thrill, this joy, shivers of excitement race throughout my body. Lips part, caught between the need to both gasp and exhale as my chest shudders. This instant, nothing else matters, unstoppable, untamed, uncatchable.

A roar of metal goes unnoticed as we rip under a trailer with its own lights out.

-~*~-

A gasping breath, the sudden jolt of wakefulness, the sudden spike of panic as my senses overload. I struggle to breath; the gasp turns into cry as I struggle to lift my head off the pillow. Arms tangled, struggling against the covers as they pin me down. Faces stare back at me in the darkness, black claws reaching across the floor.

Up,

up,

the hands reach,

claws scraping at my periphery. 

Another heavy inhale; focusing on the feeling my lungs fill, the widening of my nostrils, the pressure of a full chest.

Arms find their freedom, as I wrestle with the trickle of new memories.

Small hands drift over soft sheets, the tingle of satin on smooth skin. 

A held breath, once, twice, my heart thumps. A second sharp inhale, a third.

Fingers roam and explore, an angled jawline, a square chin. 

Thoughts and memories spin and rebel against the calm and quiet. A memory of a life before tears at my shaky sense of self. 

I work to focus on the feeling of fullness in my chest, the full breath, held and controlled. Eyes close, silent, dark, a comfort in the control of myself.

The faint pressure of lip on teeth as fingers dance and travel upward.

A tenth beat as I lean my head back on the soft pillow, and breath out.

A tickle as fingertips brush my lashes, a pressure on my eyes as the palms settle.

“A new life?” more a breath than a whisper. “Lylie?” I taste the name as it leaves my lips. A welcome change, a new self. “I have a mom and dad?” 

A forgotten feeling of moisture, my nose crinkles and lips twitch. I fucking hate this feeling. Teeth clench, and lips curl, “Quit crying you stupid bitch.”

Scalp begins to sting as my fingers curl and grab, hair tangling through small fingers.

A small, welcomed distraction accompanying the pain. A huffing laugh makes its escape. Fingers unfurl, as the pain slowly recedes. 

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

The creak of hinges accompanies the warm orange light setting the room aglow. A soft, unintelligible string of words meets my ears as I feel an odd sense of comfort. The faces of shadow, and black claws soften, and fade. Give way to furniture, drapes, and the shadow of pillows knocked to the floor.

Beautiful amber eyes look down at me as I work to understand the dream, and the slow trickle of memory. Soft hands run through my hair, play along my scalp.

“What’s wrong sweetie, have a bad dream?”

Slowly piecing the foreign, yet familiar words together, I struggle to figure out how to respond. The babble of tongue not known to this world, mingles and mixes with the slow remembrance of a new life.

“Mhm.”

Soft lips press against my forehead, as a smile creeps onto my lips. My own hands reach out, as I quickly reconcile and become more used to the body. Hands grasping shoulders as I try to give a hug.

“Sorry for waking you up.” That might have been too coherent.

I watch as she blinks slowly, see the crinkling at the edges of her eyes. The obvious signs of tiredness.

“You don’t need to apologize,” another peck, aimed at my cheek. “Do you want to tell me about the dream?”

An odd mix of guilt and happiness, slowly giving way to an undertone of excitement as I slowly realize the new life I have. 

I work to give my brightest smile, “I’m fine, thank you mommy.” Is this childish enough? “Back to sleep?”

With a soft giggle she stops stroking my head and strands straight, “Okay sweetie, goodnight, love you.”

A brief moment of confusion, as I struggle to maintain the smile and push myself to respond, “I love you too.” 

My face relaxes as the door closes, a heavy intake of breath, followed by a slow exhalation.

“I can start over, I can change.” A soft laugh tickles the ears, and I feel myself becoming excited, anticipating a new tomorrow.

Arms stretch and splay wide across the bed as I work to contain the excitement. I thumb through the scenes and chapters of my lives, building new connections, new meanings. Comparing the memories of Lylie to that of Morgan, as I piece together what I can. 

Reborn into a new world and having just turned two years old only days ago. A mother and father, both seem quite nice, caring. Father appears to be a soldier of some kind, maybe a guard? He’s well built, easily a giant compared to me, often carrying a sword. Practices often in the courtyard on our wing of this… castle? Mom is likely a scribe of some kind, as she’s always transcribing books, or translating?

The world mostly seems to fit the fantasy world aesthetic, medieval, but with a heavy seasoning of magic. Light orbs that can be moved, a cool home despite the heat and humidity outside. 

Cackling as I mime throwing lightning javelins at the bed’s canopy. “I wonder if mom is actually a mage, studying to throw fireballs and lightning??”

As the excitement of the thought passes, I lay atop a fluffy bed, clean sheets and soft pillows. Thoughts run wild, uncontained, and uncontrolled. Digging tracks and ruts as they loop through my mind. Turning over memories, both old and new. A feeling I haven’t felt in years has crept up on me in this short stint awake, and aware. 

Jealousy, but of what? I frown, face scrunched as I realize the answer. The happy memories of a new life. I’m jealous of myself? This is a weird feeling…

I sigh as I roll onto my side, the odd light through the window catching my attention. This is a strange, fantastical world. With its magic and medieval trappings, it's exceptionally alluring. A part of me can't shake the feeling I don’t deserve it, old doubts of an old life. Hopefully these thoughts can go away, I would have preferred not to remember it. Pushing past the fear and doubt, I try to focus on this golden egg. Everything I’ve ever thought about falling in my lap like a sick joke, there’s definitely a fucking catch. 

“Shut up Morgan, just be happy, you’re Lylie now.” The whispered words carrying their own venom.

I focus again on the odd lights, hoping to further distract myself, hopefully enough to get some sleep. I drop off of the bed with a thud and walk to the window.

“So, I’m Lylie.” I stare out from the third story window, fingers tracing the grooves in the gray and white stone. A blood red moon dominates the sky, proud and defiant. A clear objection to the thought of darkness at night. “I was reborn, with memories of another life.” Lips failing to close, left parted in astonishment, jaw slack and relaxed. Eyes scan the vast expanse of the sky; dyed in green, freckled with white gold. A second moon, yellow and shy, peeks out from behind her red brother, its seemingly slow crawl barely noticed by the eye. “A world with magic, sword swinging dads and an angry cook with eyes in the back of her head.” The clouds almost seem to encourage her; moisture capturing the light, glittering with shades of orange.

Stone greedily sucks the heat from my cheek as I rest my head on the stone. “It’s probably best that I keep my otherworld memories a secret.” Eyes catching the motion below as I finally break from the hypnotic beauty of the sky. No less captivating, a city stretches below, segmented and neat. A kaleidoscope of colors appears to flow and move with the breeze. “It’s too beautiful to not be a trap, a dream too sweet.” Magical lighting floats like fireflies between multi-colored roofs, through colorful trees and over the moving dots of people in the bright night. An utterly radiant red sea laps at the harbor to the east, black, yellow and green sails bob with the waves.

A fading smile, accompanied with worry and uncertainty. “Karma must be a cheap whore; I don’t have the luck for this.” Nails scratch and scrape along a ridge of stone, a slight shiver at the sensation as the smile returns. I need to get out of my own way, out of my own head. I’m not Morgan, I’m Lylie, a different person, a real home.

The feeling of heavy-lidded eyes, “I need to get some sleep.” Mind still whirling, and thinking, running its own marathon around a too-short track. Bare feet soundlessly make their way across oddly warm stone, over an impossibly soft sheepskin rug, and before a canopied bed.

Crawling onto the bed, foot slipping on a polished wood board, grabbing at my covers as I drag myself up. Who the hell gives a child a bed this high? Burrowing beneath blankets and stuffed pillows, I work to get comfortable. An admittedly easy task despite the whiplash of emotion.

Thinking of the new. Setting goals, dreams, a new life. A fresh start, clean slate.

Seconds stream and flow, as minutes bleed into hours, as time passes by.

Eyes shut, and arms wrapped possessively around a particularly fluffy pillow; and back to pressed to the headboard, I finally slip into rest.

-~*~-

Eyes snap open to the feeling of pressure on my shoulder.

Panic.

A scream tears at my throat as clenched hands swing blindly.

Panic.

Awareness refusing to click, hands thrown out to shove myself away.

Panic.

My shoulder meets a stone floor as my consciousness pieces itself together. Fists clenched, as I meet worried amber eyes.

Mom reaches out to me, worried and crouched. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Soft coos and assurances, “it’s just me.” A soft voice, calming and familiar, a balm for my frayed nerves.

Piecing the words together in my daze. Hands still shaking from the emotional high of adrenaline, giving way to fatigue. Oh, I fucked that up. Arms open up, reaching out, as I move to distract, seek to amend.

A tender touch, “You’re okay sweetie, I’m here. It’s just a bad dream.” fingers brushing through my hair, trimmed nails scratching my back as I’m embraced.

Good, she doesn’t seem to be upset. Sighing in relief as I rest my head on her shoulder, blonde hair tickles at my face. I feel myself being torn at the realization. Part of me rebels as I marvel at the safety and care.  

A slight push, as she seeks eye contact, hands gently resting on my shoulders. “Are you hungry? Linda is almost done with breakfast.” A warm smile on full lips. A smile far more relaxed than before, natural and nurturing. 

Eyes roam the woman in front of me, searching her face, seeking reactions. Is she worried? I’m probably acting too different, too many racing thoughts as well. Remnants, a residual wariness 

An easy smile still remains as she stands back up. Hand lightly pushing down on my shoulder, hands move up, fingers trace and finally comb. The soft tugging of hair as it flows and shifts through spread fingers. A small straight nose, full red lips. It looks like she is wearing makeup. Is it not a medieval fantasy? “Get dressed, breakfast will be ready by then.”

Watching her leave, I look across the room, searching for a closet. Eyes latch onto a large cabinet. A wardrobe huh? Walking over, curious hands rub on the wooden surface. Live edged, black metal hinges, and some sort of dark brown wood. The twin doors open soundlessly, allowing me to look within. A couple dresses, pants and even what looks like undergarments in the drawers. Now, what do I choose?