Brushed

Chapter 6

The first thing I think of when I wake is the visions I’ve been having. The very first vision that I had, the one with my whole life. And the second one, the half-birthday party. The third one, the one that I just had, was when I was ten, and I got the wind knocked out of me and I couldn’t breathe for a couple minutes. That was painful; I could actually feel the pain that I was in. These visions are getting worse. I can feel more; I’m not just seeing what happens. And I don’t even know why I’m getting them. Is it a sign?

                 I don’t know if I should be scared. Something is definitely happening. Is that what the woman at the adoption center meant when she said of age? Does this happen to everyone?

                 This is the first time that someone hasn’t woken me up from a vision. I woke up by myself, or at least I think. I open my eyes slightly and let them adjust to the light. It’s very bright, and I continue to squint for a while before I can fully open my eyes. Once I don’t have to squint anymore, I attempt to sit up. The pain in my head begins to throb painfully. I drop back against the bed, and realize how comfy it is. I run my hands against the blanket beneath me. It’s quilted, unlike all the blankets that I have. But for some reason, the blanket seems familiar.

                 Finally, when I feel well enough, I sit up. I slowly push myself up, careful not to make any sudden movements. There is still throbbing in my head, but it’s improving slightly. The room is lavender, one of my favorite colors. The curtains are teal, my favorite color. This room seems like a room that I would want to sleep in. It’s different than the cold, empty room I currently sleep in. This room is much more preferable. I almost feel like I have slept in this room before.

                 Whenever visions happen, it’s because I’ve been thinking of something related to my history. Except for the first time, which I still believe was just to prepare me. So, if I let myself slip into the memory, it will just… happen?

                 The only way to find out is to try.

                 “Honey, will you come and help me with her?” I don’t recognize this voice. But I do, somehow. Deep down in my head I know who it is. It’s the foster mother of this house; Adriana’s new mom.

                 And it sounds like it’s coming from me.

                 “I’ll be right there,” said the foster father.

                 I am seeing the world through the foster mother’s eyes. Then I see myself. The foster mother—me—leans in and kisses the baby on the forehead. That baby looks familiar. Oh right. It’s me. But how? I am not her child.

                 From inside the foster mother’s body, I strain to look around the room. There is the blanket I’m sleeping under. And this is the same room.

                 I used to live in Axel, the town of the free.

                 The baby—also me—is wearing a pink, fluffy dress. Definitely not something I would wear now. The baby starts to cry, and the foster mother—me—cradles the baby in her—my—arms.

                 “Nikki, I love you. Don’t cry. Mommy is right here for you.”

                 Mommy? I am her daughter? Truly her daughter?

                 The father comes over and sits down next to the mother. He smiles at her and she hands him the baby.

                 “Come here, darling,” he says. “It’s okay. We love you—”