My throat is on fire….my throat is on fire….what is happening?
I stopped dead in my tracks.
I had been so preoccupied by my confusion that I hadn't noticed the small messenger bag that was slung off of my shoulders. I lightly took it off of my arm, and slowly unzipped it, revealing its contents.
There was a cell phone, an Ipod, a mirror, three academic books, and a wallet. I gingerly took the wallet out of the bag. There was no money in it, just a little ID card.
Lyric Taylor. Age 12. Longview elementary school.
I assumed it was me, but the girl in the photo looked nothing like the girl I had seen in the puddle. This girl had zits lining her forehead, slightly crooked teeth, and awkward smile, medium length brown hair that had strands sticking out in every direction, and piercing green eyes. I grabbed the mirror, just to compare.
The girl in the mirror had perfectly straight features, clear, smooth, pale skin, Perfectly kept brown hair that touched her back, and red eyes. The image sent a shudder down my spine.
But it had to be me.
Lyric Taylor. I like it. I will be Lyric.
Twelve. I am twelve years old.
I eagerly took up the cell phone, just to see if it had any information about me. Lyric Taylor. But instead of picking it up, I snapped it into a million pieces. I felt like I was ready to cry. I was alone, confused, and scared. I expected tears to flow, but nothing came. I quickly crumbled to the ground.
I picked up everything on the ground and put them in my bag, except this time I was much more careful. The ground felt like smooth velvet on my bare skin. I slung the bag over my shoulders once more.
My head shot up abruptly. The most delicious smell hit my nose. What was it…saliva? Something along the lines of saliva welled up in my mouth.
Before I could do anything else, I pounced on the passerby.