Chapter 1 Adapting
The first few days passed by in a blur, I slept in the cot provided by the matrons, while I silently mourned my odd displacement. I was able to figure out that I am somewhere in the United Kingdom, judging by the accent of the people around me. I drank the milk they provided in a bottle and slept. A lot. I didn't really cry, as crying makes me feel like I lost the last semblance of control I had. There were nuns all around me, they were supposed to take care of others, but I literally see them drinking, snacking and gossiping more than doing anything else. I was sixteen, just about to start my Ph.D when I fell here, wherever this is. I realised that I had to be in the past when I overheard the nuns gossiping excitedly about the orphanage finally getting a telephone. I may or may not have bawled my eyes out at that. Then something weird happened, it was a feeling of pressure, it kept building and building up as I panicked, I was in the past. When time travel is meant to be impossible.
Then the windows shattered.
When I finally calmed down later that day, I immediately tried to think about the history lessons I have had. At least, from what I could hear, it seems to be not too far in the past, since telephones apparently were a recent invention to them. The matrons were nuns so it was hard to tell, but there is a high chance I will see my parents and friends again, even if I look different. So I did not spend too much time mourning their loss. After three days of rest and panic, I decided to train myself to start talking, I mean, it's a horrible feeling when I lose bowel or bladder control, at least I will be able to voice my needs soon.
But atlas, this task was easier thought than said. (Please excuse the pun) I found out as I determinedly tried to grab a strand of my wispy hair, trying to at least know what I look like.
…Aaaand I punched myself in the eye.
My resultant "Ouch" sounded more like a strangled "Uoug". My muscles have barely been used, thus they are hard to control. On the plus side, my ears are extremely sensitive and I can tell the time through the routine checking and feeding of the nuns by their footsteps. After five days of training by cooing almost every waking moment, whenever the nuns were not looking at me, I was finally able to control a form of slurred speech. Time to make an entrance and stun the nuns!
This will be fun.
I waited until it was just after feeding time on the tenth day of my existence in this world. When a new, young nun was being shown the ropes. She was on rocking duty, trying to rock us 'poor orphaned dears' to sleep. Impatient, the older nun took out her pocket watch. Perfect. Twisting my head slightly, I stared straight at the watch and slurred, "What is that."