Chapter 12: Old Friends

"Regrets collect like old friends

Here to relive your darkest moments

I can see no way, I can see no way

And all of the ghouls come out to play."

-Florence + the Machine, 'Shake It Out'

Run, run. Far away. What can I do? I know what I am supposed to do... but these people, I hardly remember their names (if at all), let alone their faces!

I pause, trying to catch my breath. Where am I? When am I?

This is my time. When I should be.

I'm a thirteen year old girl. What difference can I possibly make?

I have to try, I know that much. Doing otherwise is just giving up... giving up on myself, on my friends, on my family, on everyone...

What does Time even want to achieve by doing this?

I need someone to help me... but who?

Taking a deep breath in, I prepare to face one of my worst fears: the past. Time has shown me how she does it. A mutant, like my mother, she somehow trusts me. I walk back nto the small cottage. We reside somewhere amongst the rolling fields of Wisconsin, 1985. Way before I was born, or even my mother or father. Technically, I will be traveling forward through time, though I will still be in the past. When Time first brought me here I had trouble differentiating between past, present, and future. She explained that the present is simply wherever the stream of life directs you; wherever, according to our birthdays, we 'ought' to be.

Grandmother is at the table, surrounded by papers. Most of it is the expensive graphing sort. Physics equations and drawings speckle the sheets—her handwriting loops through the page in the crazy, slanted swirls that make up her old-fashioned script. She turns to face me. Grandmother appears to be somewhere in her mid-fifties, with gray-blonde hair and youthful green eyes, but I doubt that she'll stay this way for long.

"What do you need, Lilly?" she asks silkily, her voice akin to warm cocoa on a frozen night.

I try to meet her eyes. "Moram putovati natrag u vremenu."

"Povratak?"

Quickly, I attempt to cover my slight of tongue. "Proslijediti ovdje. Povratak iz moje sadašnjosti. Moje isprike, baka. Moj jezik i dalje posrće preko svojih poznatih riječi. To je bilo tako davno da je dopušteno govoriti o K'un L'UN-a."

"Dobro, dobro. Vi ste skromni. I will not question your judgement... for now. Remember... I always win." Only her voice can make my homeland's words seem so harsh and grating.

Unsteadily, I rise to my feet. The world around me is strange, unfamiliar. I grip my silver bracelet, pressing it to my skin before slipping it over my wrist once more. It can bear only a dozen journeys, three of which have already been traveled.

A school. Whispers resound through the walls.

"Leave me alone, Danny," a girl with long brown hair hisses, pinning another student against the lockers. The hallway is otherwise abandoned. "I've seen too much. It's my fault."

"You saved his life," the boy replies. I don't recognize him, but he seems familiar. "You are the sole reason that he survived."

"But—Bereave," she chokes. I stiffen at the name. "She almost killed him." Her head sags, and the boy—Danny—embraces her. He ruffles her hair soothingly. My heart pangs, and I suddenly miss my parents even more. "And now... now that Ali's—"

"Shh. It is all right, Emma."

EMMA?! DANNY?!

It worked.

I back against the wall, wishing I had chosen a better time. Ironic, isn't it? "Moji roditelji."

They whirl around to face me. Mom's eyes widen, but Dad doesn't seem to recognize me; rather, he tenses, ready to fight. I swallow my fear, like Dad taught me.

"Baba? Dad?"

His face goes slack in surprise. "Wha—?"

"Baba, seni özledim. Beni bıraktı! Beni terk ettin! Sana güvendim! I TRUSTED YOU! YOU ABANDONED ME!"

"What the...?" a voice mutters from behind me. Ava. A younger Ava, but still the woman who cared for me. "Danny, of all the people, I did not expect you to go around knocking—"

"I did not." Dad sounds incredulous.

My lip trembles. I can't help it. Why am I always rejected? He can't even remember me. Of course he can't. Mom should, though!

"Annesi?"

"Bu olamaz," Mom says, her voice trembling.

"Sen K'un L'un kelime konuşur?" Dad seems confused.

"No. I didn't think so..." Mom looks terrified now, shaking her hands incessantly.

Footsteps come from behind me. "PETER!" I scream, running over and hugging him.

"What the...?"

"Long story."

"Schnitzels."