Forgotten Life

Chapter 1

"I have a fear of heights."

Is it the fear of heights,

Or the fear of falling?

I'm not afraid of heights

Because I'm already falling.

***

While looking around the crowded room that appears to be more of a closet packed to the ceiling with hopeless souls more than anything, I notice someone looking at me. Not just wandering eyes filled with disgust that I have become acquainted with, but curious, almost sympathetic eyes.

I don't need sympathy. I didn't choose to be filled with a perpetual loop of lives stuffed into a single body. If I had the choice, I would simply wish to look normal on the surface. Or be held captive in an eighty year old guy’s basement hidden away from the rest of the world. Anything would be better than the life I currently live in.

High school is a waste of my time. I have nothing more to learn and no more damage to contain. Although I must admit I love how the teaching style has changed so much. Learning use to be so closely tied with pain and no one wanted to learn because it was forced upon them.

I do my very best to pretend I didn't catch her eyes on me and take a bite into my apple. On any other occasion, I could easily ignore this random girl just as I've done the other million times when I’ve received a funny glance. When looking out of my peripheral vision, I catch a shift in her position. She has her head tilted, squinting, and her eyebrows are crinkled together. Has no one taught this girl that staring is impolite? I presume that they haven't.

In my past lives, no one gives more than a passing look of disgust. Yet, this girl insists on walking over to my table, and plopping her and her tray across from me. She sets her elbows on the table, interlocks her fingers, and rests her head on her hands. I can't help but lower my head with embarrassment.

I choke out a polite, "Can I help you?” avoiding eye contact at all costs.

She just tilts her head once more, staring into my eyes as if looking into my lives.

"Um," I mumble, "if you could excuse me, I have to get going. Class is about to begin…" even though we still have ten minutes left of lunch.

I steal one more glance at the girl with curious, sympathetic eyes, and rush towards the doors. I toss the apple corer into the trash on my way out of the cafeteria and run to class.

The rest of the day goes scot-free with no signs of the girl from lunch.