1

I was always terribly interested in the development of children, both biologically and emotionally. My mother, a nurse, grew used to me asking her questions about infants and mine and my siblings own development. She'd answer them the best she could, looking a bit amused the entire time. My grandmother was a bit more concerned and when she found me reading What To Expect When You're Expecting and Caring For Your Baby and Young Child she'd given me a stern talking to about waiting to have children. My family was determined that my siblings and I would be the first to go to college and finish it. Being a mother in high school, or even middle school, would ruin or at least make that dream incredibly difficult. Eventually though they realized these books were much like the books I had on symbolism or the Tudor family. One of my many interests, or research projects as I called them, that I simply wanted to know about for the sake of knowing.

So here's one interesting fact I remember about the development of infants.

Babies are born with peripheral vision, but have to develop the ability to focus on a point in the center of their field of sight.

In the lucid moments of my first month in my second life the inability to focus on what was in front of me made me panic a bit. I wasn't able to process these emotions at this stage. This lead to quite a few crying fits that appeared, to my caretakers at least, to come out of nowhere. On my part I was scared and couldn't understand what was going on. I had my memories, but I couldn't completely process them. I had the emotions of an infant contrasting with the mind of a freshly turned twenty year old and I was honestly a mixture of the two.

So for a good portion of my time I was content with being safe and well feed. I slept quite a bit and tired easily. But the second I became aware of how I was supposed to be I grew confused and terrified and this triggered another loud screaming fit.

When I began to be able to concentrate on what was right in front of me it relaxed me. I didn't mind that I couldn't focus past a certain point. That was nothing new. I'd been nearsighted since fifth grade and it was extremely comforting to begin to feel like myself again. Though I still couldn't fully process what I was or what exactly was going on.

With my new found abilities to see and my increasing ability to focus I began to take in the world around me.

I lived in a nest of softness that I only sometimes recognized as a cradle. My needs were met quickly and efficiently, not leaving much room to cry for neglect. Despite this the care I received seem strictly professional without the soft affection or added attention parents paid their newborns. I knew this wasn't right, though I didn't know why and I quickly began to do everything in my power to get any trace of affection and touch from my caretakers.

It took me awhile to realize that they did not all disappear the moment they were out of my sight. My world solely focused on what I could see. It caused me almost as much panic as my sight. The feeling of being alone in my soft, bright world. Once I was able to realize that they came back I relaxed some. I still did not enjoy having them out of my sight though and cried for them.

Eventually though they stopped indulging me, leaving me to cry myself sick sometimes. The brief touches I craved lessened and I grew despondent. When I stopped crying though they returned.

It was a lesson I wouldn't soon forget. Even so early. They were not there to give love. They were there to keep me alive.

. . .

I had three permanent caretakers, though on certain days I would get some who would never return.

The first of my watchers was an older woman. She was not an old woman though. I'd estimate she was in her early thirties, but her cold eyes and clinical manner made her seem older. She had stress lines surrounding her amber eyes and had grey streaking her red hair. I loved her hair. The color always caught my attention and I would watch it for hours. On rare days she was in an inexplicable good mood she would even let it fall over her shoulder into my greedy hands. My grip wasn't fully developed, but the feel of the soft locks tickling my open palms was comforting. She was there more often than not, usually with the other two switching off on watching me. In some part of my mind that was working on a more adult level I recognized that she was the one in charge of the other two. Most of the time though I just knew she was the one I saw on a daily basis and even with her withheld affection she became a familiar rock in my confusion.

My second watcher was also a woman. A bit younger than the red-head though. Unlike the cold facade the older woman put on my younger watcher constantly smiled. Occasionally she would even bay talk me. She had short blonde hair and skin that was much fairer than the redhead. Despite her seeming cheer if anything she cared less than the redhead. While smiling her eyes looked through me. She would often ignore me while caring on her duties and she felt even colder than the redhead's aloof face. I think she might have hated me, though for what I didn't understand. What I did recognize was the way she sometimes held me a little too tightly to me comfortable and the way that when her smile would drop her face would grow hard. I was a little scared of her and I was relieved by the fact that not once did the redhead leave me with her unsupervised.

My last caretaker was my favorite. He was somewhere in age between the redhead and the blonde. He was the only one who seemed to have genuine flashes of affection for me, though the redhead was always quick to scold him out of it. I put an effort into pleasing him the best ways I could, giving him my best imitation of a smile and trying to be quiet for him. He was the one who would touch me the most, casually picking me up and stroking my head gently when he held me. He had thick brown hair with a fringe that fell in his face and dark, black eyes. His hands were always warm and I registered the fact that sometimes they seemed to get warmer than others. Usually when I began to fuss the warmth would appear and I would feel myself relax without explanation.

His was the only name I tried to learn, though I couldn't completely understand why it was important. Unfortunately I never could catch it. The blonde called him "Senpai", a word that set off alarms in my brain that I didn't fully understand. I still hadn't caught up with my mind and I forgot a lot, not being able to understand it yet. The redhead didn't speak other than to give him orders and occasional scold. She never did break him of his random affections, but she did manage to create some distance. I resented her for that. As much as a two month old could. Well that and her refusal to call him by name.

I still would chose her over the blonde any day.

I spent that second month under their care watching and listening. Registering what I could without much comprehension. Only later when looking back on the blurry memories of this beginning would I realize how unusual it was I learned as much as I did. I'd always had a frankly shitty memory, but in my new life I'd apparently improved in that area and recalled my three caretakers, my white cradle and bright room, and the knowledge that I wasn't meant to be loved.

. . .

I was in my third month when I finally remembered and became aware. It was a rare day with my red haired caretaker watching me on her own and me watching her long hair swish back and forth as she walked around the room. I was in a fairly good mood. The redhead had held me against her longer than usual while feeding me and had played with my hands, helping me to open and close them around her fingers, before she'd settled me on a blanket on the ground. Being out of the cradle was a new experience. Plus the blanket I was laying on was smooth and soft. I enjoyed rubbing my face against it as I watched the bright moving strands of hair of the woman in charge of me.

The redhead herself seemed more relaxed than usual. Maybe I was growing on her at this point? But her mood was visibly lighter as she went through the room wiping down each surface with the wet rag she held.

My eyes drifted around the room lazily as she moved.

It was a very plain room. It had blank walls with black lining showing where they separated into parts. I already knew that they slid to the side when someone entered rather than open, which I felt was odd. I didn't know why though. The floor was similarly made up of several separate pieces. When I touched it I could feel the interconnecting pieces of the wood that were still oddly smooth. It wasn't soft like my blanket, but the coolness and texture was pleasant so I wiggled until my arms hung off the blanket allowing my hands to pet the floor and my face to rest against the blanket.

It was pleasant.

The redhead watched my movements carefully as she continued to clean with one hand. This inattention made her not notice her hand drift towards the glass of tea she'd set on one of the scare pieces of furniture in the room. It was falling before she could register the touch. I followed the movement with my eyes.

When it hit the ground it made the largest sound I'd heard in my second life.

I was back with my mother the moment it registered in my ears.

'...and now we got bad blood. Hey! Hey remember when you tried to write me off? Remember when you thought I'd take a loss. Don't you remember that you thought that I would need ya'? Follow procedure.'

"Three months to go." the brunette women beside me says a hint of sadness in her voice.

That wouldn't do. I make my voice light and reach over to poke her arm playful.

"You're gonna miss me." I inform her in a sing song manner. She scoffs and smacks my hand away.

"Nope." she replies, popping the 'p' deliberately and smiling. "I was just thinking of how much time I had to finalize my party plans."

I don't believe it for a second and lean over. "You're gonna cry."

The woman rolls her eyes, but recognizes the tone in my voice is just joking however true it may be.

"Not even a little."

"Liar." I accuse. "I'll be in England and you'll be here and miss me. You're baby girl's growing up Momma. Soon I'll be done with college and working at a real job and have a house of my own. You'll only see me during holidays. I'll even be talking to the doctor all by myself."

She gives me a smile at that with a hint of mischief. "I suppose that means I'll be renting your room to someone else soon."

I frown, but don't mean it. Her grin grows at the expression.

"Yes, fifty a week should do it. You're cousin did say she wanted to move closer to town. Do you think she'll be ready by next week?"

I give her an unimpressed look.

"She'll make your arm hurt." I tell her bluntly. This causes a laugh.

"No more than you three did!" she teases, eyes drifting back to the road. I'm happy to find that the sadness is no longer visible in her eyes. The car grows quiet and I catch the sound of the music, still playing.

'...and I don't think we can solve 'em. You made a really deep cut. And baby now we got bad blood!'

I pull back into my seat and relax. Behind me the dogs bark. Our puppy had insisted she come and if she got to go with the people than the older one definitely did. I look back at them amused and Eggsy jumps forward the second she sees me. I reach down to touch her and the puppy gives my hand a soft lick. She is a big licker. My sister says it shows submission. In the back seat Torino gives us both an unimpressed look and settles his head on his paws.

"I'm thinking of taking the Shakespeare class." I tell my mother as I pet the puppy.

My reply is an arm smacking across my chest. I look up.

There's a piercing sound in my ears. It hurt. It's loud and sharp and I couldn't tell where it was coming from. But nothing hurt as much as my insides. My head felt like it was on fire and my heart felt like it was being ripped in two. The floor was no longer cool underneath my palms.

I look at my mother first and see her skin pale underneath her tan.

I felt something grab me. Hands I realized startled, but the noise wouldn't stop and the pounding in my head was worse. My throat felt like it was closing up, but I could still breathe. I heard another sound, a voice calling out over the loud noise in my ears.

Something's wrong, I think suddenly. I turn to look out the window. Something had made her 'pull a soccer mom' as my sister put it.

It was a voice I realized. The loud noise was a voice and the person holding me had to be my red haired caretaker. Her voice was the other sound I heard and it had more emotion in it than I'd ever heard. I was shaking now and my face was wet. I was crying.

There is an old truck in front of us. It was close. Too close I realize slowly. My mother's hand digs into my chest. I feel the car begin to jerk as she slams the brake.

I was screaming. That was the noise. It wasn't like any of the noises I'd made before. I sounded like I was dying. Maybe I was. I just wanted the pain to stop. I couldn't see through it anymore. I could only hear. My screams and the one word that the redhead called again and again.

"Nao! Nao!"

My body moves forward despite my mother's hand. My seat belt does not catch me as my head moves towards the dash. I am going to die.

Another hand suddenly touched me. Warm and familiar. It doesn't stop the pain, it just adds another sensation to it.

'If you live like that you live with ghosts!'

It felt like one of my migraines peaking only a thousand times worse.

There is pain, but it goes black before I can really feel it.

I'm supposed to be dead. There's too much in my brain and not enough of me to process it. Everything I had is gone. Everything I love is gone. There was an explosion of white behind my eyes and the pain in my head vanished. My crying didn't stop though. My heart hurt. My throat ached.

Why was I alive? All of me that was washed over me and I remembered my death and who I used to be. I was only three months old I couldn't handle it. For the first time in either of my lives I fainted.

Author's Note: This was much more fun to write than I suspected. Our thus far unnamed protagonist isn't having a good time, but I certainly am. Thank you everyone who has reviewed so far! And lots of thanks to the follows and favorites. I usually don't write near as fast as this.

Quick question. Which name for her do you guys like best?

Midori, Hitomi, Kama, Botan

I'll be naming her soon and I can't decide. Tell me what you guys think! She'll get it either in the third chapter or fourth. It'll take that long for reasons. Also just curious anyone have guesses to when and where exactly she is?