Sometimes I think back to my old life, wondering if my family misses me. My dad had walked out on us after cheating on my mom, I hadn't seen or heard from him in years. I was a middle child, but my brother and sister never really cared for me either. They would act like they did but they would never invite me to go out with them, and then said they were sorry when I asked why they didn't ask if I wanted to go, "we didn't think you would have wanted to come out with us" they would say. I'm not some shut in, I'm just not a people person for gods sake. I prefer to keep to my self because people are annoying, that doesn't mean I didn't like to get out and away from my room everyone once and awhile.
My mom on the other hand was an angel sent from heaven. I don't think my brother and sister thought like that though. My mom worked 70+ hours a week as nurse to make sure we had a roof over our heads and food on the table. I'd also tell people that she was my best friend, she was always willing to listen to my problems and tell me she still loved me despite all my faults. Even when I told her I was gay, she smiled, told me she knew, and that she didn't love me any less. I cried a little that day and I'm not really one for emotions so that goes to say a lot.
Not that any of that matters anymore. I died. I never thought I would die at 18 but I did. Not from some truck coming out of no where and sending me to meet God and get wishes. Not from saving a damsel in distress. It was over before I even knew what was going on. I just walked to the convenience store a quarter mile from my house to grab some snacks for the weekend while I played some games and watch my favorite tv shows. Next thing I know some guy is rushing into the convenience store, holding a gun, most likely to rob it, but I had never found out, he shot me shortly after he walked through the door. All I knew after that was darkness.
At least for a little while. Shortly after I opened my eyes. But I was in a different body. Not a baby. If I had to wager a guess it was an 8-year-olds body. I don't honestly know though I'm not a genius. Before I really had any more time to think though my world went dark as memories that were not mine but still felt like I had lived every one of them personally, flowed through my mind, leaving me with a pounding headache that made me feel like I was shot in the head, not the heart.
After what felt like forever the memories stopped and I came to know that the kids' body I was now living in had just recently smacked here head off the floor when she slipped trying to grab food from a cabinet to high for her reach because her neglectful mother was to busy to feed her. I'm almost certain she would have died had I not "merged" I guess is the right term, with her. Her name, my name, is Daniella Swan.
Oh god. I'm Isabella "I love Sparkly Vampires" Swans twin sister. God help me. Please.