Something strange happened after I got hit by a car when I rushed across, what I had assumed to be, an empty street. That wasn't the strange part. People got hit by cars all the time (unfortunately). The pain of it was so immense my vision went white, and I passed out.
At some point I briefly regained consciousness and it was freezing. I could feel my lungs working themselves into a scream, and somewhere nearby I heard a baby crying. When I tried to open my eyes everything looked bright and blurry. Not liking the situation I closed my eyes and surrendered to darkness once more.
The second time I woke up I felt much more alert. I looked around and noticed things at certain distances were blurry to me – which was odd, considering I didn't wear glasses. The accident must have affected my eyesight.
I tried rubbing my eyes to see if that would help, but I couldn't move my arms. Lazily tilting my head to the side revealed my body to be encased in a white blanket with little pink ducks on it. I didn't think hospitals had blankets like these. Especially not ones that soft.
The next time I woke up was because somebody picked me up. I stared at the lady with wide eyes. Something was definitely wrong. My body fit in the crook of her arm, and her head was almost as big as me. I would have thought her to be some sort of giant, if not for the fact they didn't exist. There were people who grew super tall, but not to the extent where they could carry a seventeen year old in their arms without struggle.
That was when I realized something strange happened. Getting hit by a car and waking up in a hospital was the only normal part. I panicked to the point of crying, and I realized I sounded like a baby. It surprised me so much I immediately stopped.
Things began to come together. The blurry vision, the soft blankets, giant people, I assumed the baby bottle was from a dream. Instead I found myself as a newborn baby with nurses catering to me.
Telling myself it was a dream wasn't convincing, so I settled on coma. That didn't sit well with me either, but I had a limited number of rational choices. There was no way the situation could have been real.
When a woman with mousy brown hair and green eyes picked me up with an expression of complete love and adoration, I decided my course of action would be to sit back and wait. If it was an elaborate dream I would eventually wake up, but if it was a coma I would be stuck there indefinitely.
That thought swirled around my brain while the brown-haired woman and a tall blonde man took care of me. They must have been my new parents. They had nothing on my real parents. I couldn't stop myself from comparing them to my real parents, and every time it happened I became a little bit more depressed.
I gave them props for taking care of me so well. Of course I made it easier on them, and only cried when I was hungry or soiled my diaper. Those were moments in my life I would never be able to unlive. Newborns did not have good motor skills, so climbing out of my crib and walking to a bathroom was out of the question.
Weeks went by, and my senses eventually began developing. I could see better, hear the British accent in people's voices, and taste the horrid flavor of baby food. That was probably the worst thing I ever put in my mouth. The man and woman (I struggled to call them mom or dad) had such a hard time figuring out why I refused to eat the food. I didn't spit out formula, so they usually fed me that when everything else failed.
Eventually the blonde man, my dad, had a stroke of genius, and blended up a bunch of vegetables mixed with formula. The woman, my mom, didn't want me drinking it, but dad was adamant.
I sucked that shake down like there was no tomorrow. After so long of drinking formula, spinach and broccoli tasted heavenly. The two adults were so happy they found something I would eat, they continued to make the veggie shakes for each meal. Luckily they never upset my stomach.
Time passed, and I continued to observe my new surroundings. That was how I learned things. Like my mom's name being Natalie, and dad was Brandon. I had an Uncle Jeffrey and Aunt Tilly. They visited Natalie and Brandon a lot with gifts for me. Friends visited, too. One couple brought over their own baby girl for "play dates". She drooled on everything and looked around with wide blue eyes. Before getting hit by a car I had been the youngest of 4, and never had much experience with young children, so I didn't enjoy their presence. My hesitance around her was obvious, yet all the adults figured time would fix that.
At night I fell asleep wondering if this new life was the work of a coma-induced dream. Not a single sign of waking up after so many months. At one point I wondered if I had to get hit by a car again. If that were the case I didn't know how I would accomplish it.
This could very well be a new start for me. A life in Britain apparently. I would never be with my parents in America ever again. Hear their voices, give them hugs, tell them I loved them. Now I was stuck with strangers for parents. They loved me equally, but for some reason I couldn't connect with Natalie. I couldn't let go of my real mom in order to truly accept her.
This life also meant I would never see my friends again. I fell out of touch with my friends from grade school and middle school. I made one or two close friends in high school, but their loss didn't cut so deep that it would take years to get over. It was moving on from my family that would take a while.
A few days after realizing this situation was permanent I cried for hours. Natalie and Brandon hadn't known what to do with me, and their coddling only made me cry harder. They weren't the ones I wanted comfort from.
When I heard talk of bringing me to a doctor I forced myself to reign it in. I didn't consider them my real parents, but they considered me their daughter, and my non-stop crying scared them. I didn't love them, but I cared enough to try not to worry them.
I adapted to this new time. I let Natalie and Brandon care for me while I learned how to crawl, stand, and walk. They "potty trained" me, meaning they showed me how to use the toilet while I pretended not to know how it worked.
At four years old I found time to examine my new body in a mirror. My once blonde hair now fell in frizzy chocolate curls, and my green eyes were a few shades lighter. I'd seen myself before, but only when Natalie or Brandon helped me brush my hair and teeth. In that moment I felt my chest tighten from the number of emotions I'd been holding back since being reborn. I felt it build inside my chest until I felt like exploding.
The mirror in front of me shattered at the same time the feeling in my chest disappeared. I jumped away from it and stared at the broken shards reflecting my wide-eyed expression. Brandon rushed in with wide eyes, but I had no explanation, so the incident was pushed aside.
Natalie and Brandon were hesitant to send me to preschool. Not once in this life had I uttered a single word, barely a laugh. The most I did was smile when someone made a silly face. They took me to a doctor, who proved I could hear. He said it was possible I chose not to speak, but agreed with my parents it was strange I rarely laughed.
The two of them talked about it one night in the living room while I colored a barbie coloring book.
"How will she get through school if she doesn't talk?" Natalie wrung her hands nervously in her lap.
Brandon ran a worried hand through his hair and sighed. "I don't know, Nat. Even without talking, Rose needs an education."
My head perked up at the sound of my name. My full name in this life was Rosabell Juniper King. It wasn't a horrible name, but I missed my old one. My new one was a mouthful whenever somebody said the whole thing.
Natalie and Brandon came to the agreement of sending me to school as a test to see how I did. They warned the teachers about my mute nature. Imagine everyone's surprise when I passed the classes with flying colors. Of course, preschool didn't offer much more than coloring and activities.
At the end of the school year Natalie and Brandon sat me down on the living room couch with bright smiles.
"Rose?" I looked at Brandon, and tilted my head questioningly. "Your mother and I have some good news."
I acknowledged his sentence with slow nod. When they tried talking to me in the past they either grew awkward or frustrated, but now they could read every blink, head tilt, or hum as if I were actually speaking.
Natalie took over the conversation. "Your father and I just found out: you're gonna be a big sister!"
I froze. Not in my wildest dreams did I think I would have a sibling. In my previous life I'd been the youngest of four, so I knew what it was like or have a sibling, but that was then. I'd been an only child for nearly seven years in this new life, and I'd grown comfortable having just the three of us. A sibling never crossed my mind. My feelings about a new life as Rosabell King had finally settled, and now I needed to face being an older sister.
Sitting on that couch with Natalie and Brandon staring at me with expectant faces, I did my best to give them a smile. It felt more like a grimace, but it didn't matter when all the light bulbs in the living room exploded. The room was plunged into darkness, and all I could hear were Natalie and Brandon's shocked yelling.