The first thing that she knew was that she wasn't quite herself.
It was subtle things… the room was too dark. The light wasn't streaming in through the window, rather it was subdued by the curtains. The metallic blue of the walls was a far cry from the vibrant greens of her bedroom. The mattress was a little too firm; the blankets a little too soft.
The noise wasn't the same either. It was too quiet. An eerie silence, way too unlike the usual morning chaos of her home. There was no smell of the stale coffee and cigarette smoke that accompanied her parents lab work; no clatter of her brother's feet against the hard wood floors of the hallway. The shower wasn't running. Her alarm wasn't buzzing.
She sat up in bed, leaning against a lace-trimmed pillow. The room was hardly like hers. It was clean, but cold. There were silver-framed photographs on the desk, pictures of people she didn't recognize. She didn't know the pale gray cat that was curled on the edge of the queen-sized bed.
Nothing was hers.
She forced herself to rise from the bed, looking into the mirror over the mahogany dresser. It wasn't her face that greeted her. Instead, the reflection was sharp and angled, with a stubborn chin and silky ebony locks framing a heart-shaped face. The body wasn't hers, either… She was slightly shorter, with longer legs and bronze skin.
Her legs gave out. She stumbled to the pristine white carpet. She stared at her hand. The bitten nails and chipped polish was replaced with a neat manicure. Kim bit her bottom lip hard enough to taste blood in her mouth. She brought her wrist to her mouth and bit hard. Pain, so there was no way she could have been dreaming.
Kim Possible ran a hand through her hair, her eyes wide. She lifted a hand to touch Bonnie Rockwaller's face – her face, she supposed. A sick feeling twisted her insides…"I'm Bonnie," she muttered, staring up at the mirror with a sense of disturbing fascination.
Author's Notes: Comments? Criticisms? Suggestions? …Review!