I know things are off as soon as I try to open my eyes, and fail. My first thought is that the body I'm in today is in a coma, which, at least as far as I can remember, has never happened before.
Granted, I can't remember much from individuals before the age of five, but I like to think that if I had been in a coma before then, I would have some memory of it.
My next thought is that maybe I can't open my eyes because I'm blind.
But again, according to my memory, that has never happened before.
Still. Both situations are possible, and I've done this switching bodies thing for all of my life. While I would hardly say that I have experienced a day in the life of anyone in any possible situation, I like to think that I am ready for whatever new thing comes along. So, what next?
Testing the coma vs. being blind theory, I try to move my head. Nothing. An arm. A leg. Nothing. A finger, even. Nope.
Okay, I'm in a coma. Well, at least I know, now.
I can handle this. It's just for one day, and at least I won't have to do anything. Impersonate anyone. I'll just have to lie here, and my parents or guardians or nurses or whoever will take care of my vitals, keep me alive. It's not a fun way to spend a day, but then, I think about how it is for the person who's body I've taken.
It's only a day.
I would have gone with that theory and accepted it as the truth, except that I now become aware of another presence in my head.
Had I been able to move, I would have jumped up out of bed in surprise.
That had NEVER happened before. Whenever I took over a body, the person always stayed behind. I don't know how they interpreted their missing day, if my memories somehow mixed with theirs, or if the day just became an empty slate.
Like I said, I've never been in the same body twice.
I suddenly become nervous-but also excited-as I realize that there's someone else there. Another body snatcher, perhaps? Did the powers that be who control who gets what body get their schedules mixed up? And I and another body snatcher sharing the same body?
It's never happened before...but pretty much everything since I have become aware this morning feels alien to me. So, why stop now?
It occurs to me that not only do I have no control over the physical body, the mind is gone as well.
I always have a memory attached to the body. I don't ever know their feelings, not really, but events and information about who's behind the body I am supposed to inhabit today is present.
Always.
Today...nothing.
If it's not for the other presence in my mind...which seems to be growing stronger, I could almost chalk it up to my coma theory. Having never been in a coma before, it's possible that the memories of the mind vanish, at least temporarily, when the body is comatose.
Except for the existence of the mind next to mine.
I don't know if I should say anything. The thought would make me laugh, if I could. The real question isn't should I say anything, but CAN I say anything? I mean, can we communicate? Or, am I breaking the rules that I set for myself-to live each day as the person whose body I am inhabiting would live it?
Then again, all the rules I know have basically flown out the window, so why not?
Besides, it's not like I'm actually doing anything. Communication mind to mind, if it even works, isn't even as significant to the person's life as moving a hand.
Before I can say anything, though, the eyes open. The body moves. Stretches. Gets out of bed.
But it's not me doing any of that.
The mind that's next to be-somehow, I know that he's doing it.
Because the other mind is in control of this body.