Emeline Rivera has done the same things since practically the moment she was born. Wake up, go to school, hang out with her friends, spend time with her mom, and have scarily realistic dreams at night. With some fainting mixed in of course. Forks's...
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November 2014
Jasper dropped Emeline off at her house using Edward's car, though only after Emeline muttered many reassurances that she was fine did he let Emeline go into her house. "I'm fine, I swear." Emeline lied for what seemed like the millionth time, opening the passenger side door to get out.
"Get plenty of sleep tonight, and call if you start feeling-"
Emeline cut Jasper off as she stepped outside of the car, leaning down to peer in. "I'm fine, Texas. I'm used to my head self destructing on me." The brunette said, tapping her forehead with a smile. Jasper was a lot more perceptive than he looked, and though it was nice to have someone worrying about her, she didn't exactly want it. She was still too weirded out.
"I'll see you at school tomorrow." Emeline said with a tight smile, closing the car door behind her before heading up the driveway and entering her house as quickly as possible without looking unnatural.
Emeline sighed as she closed her front door behind her, dropping the facade of being okay as she allowed herself to lose it, running upstairs to her room.
"Emmy, is that you?" Her mother asked from her room down the hall, and Emeline closed her bedroom door as she started to look for her laptop frantically.
"Yah, I just got home." The brunette said as she located the silver MacBook at the top of her closet, and she grabbed it and put it on her bed before throwing off her shoes. "Sorry for being loud!"
Emeline opened up her laptop, relieved that it was still charged from the last time she used it, and the brunette quickly typed in her password before pulling her hair into a messy bun, and she loaded up Google Chrome quickly.
The first phrase Emeline typed in was: memories that aren't mine ; and she was able to find a promising link describing someone experiencing nausea, dizziness, and weird memories, but when she clicked on it the article was talking about an anxiety disorder. Another similar post came to the conclusion of them being side effects of a seizure problem, which didn't satisfy her, even though it would make sense.
Emeline was looking for something specific, any answer to the things she'd while she was out.
Emeline searched for what seemed like hours with many different keywords and phrases, before settling on something that she thought might yield some results.
Chronic migraines and past lives?
A few different articles and cases of people being cured of chronic migraines by past life regression therapy, and though that didn't exactly apply to Emeline, she thought that it was a good place to start. She looked into the therapy, bookmarking a few tabs on places in Seattle just in case, though they were pricey, and Emeline wasn't sure that this was what was going on at all. She was being crazy.
Just as she was about to give up, Emeline found the most promising result so far.
It was a blog that belonged to a girl named Hannah Snow, and though the posts were a few years old, Emeline clicked anyways. A specific post resonated with Emeline, and she whispered it quietly while she read it, practically making no noise at all.
My subconscious is trying to warn me about something, or maybe I'm just going crazy, but nearly every morning I wake up to a note in my own handwriting, but that I have no recollection of writing.
This morning: Dead before Seventeen
I booked an appointment with the closest therapist that will deal with these things, because I obviously need one if I'm writing such morbid things and can't even-
"Are you going to come down for dinner? I made burgers!" Wren called out to Emeline from downstairs, and the tall girl's eyes widened as she looked at the time in the corner of her screen.
Emeline closed her computer, carefully leaving the girl's blog open. Past lives didn't exist. Saying that would be like saying her random dreams of red eyed people were real.
And they weren't. Emeline was sure that after dinner she'd be able to keep reading Hannah Snow's blog, and the girl would reveal that she'd just been over exhausted and that the session with her therapist had helped. Hell, it would probably be detailed in the next post, if not the same one.
It wouldn't hurt to casually ask some questions though. Just to prove how ridiculous she was being.
With that thought in mind, Emeline went downstairs to the kitchen where her mom was putting their burgers on styrofoam plates with a smile on her face, and Emeline took hers and sat down at their counter, taking in the familiar smell of the burger, perfectly greasy, as it should be. Just being around another person felt grounding, and she was tempted to just put the whole thought out of her mind.
Reincarnation sounded even crazier when she was sitting at the bar setup on the other side of the counter from her mother. It was absurd to think about when she was looking around at the chipped wood on their worn out cabinets, and the koolaid stain on their counter that hadn't came out since she was eight.
It was crazy talk.
Wren simply stood leaning against the sink as she picked up her burger to eat it, and Emeline opened her mouth to speak. "Did I ever do anything weird as a kid?" Emeline asked, feigning a causal aura as she picked at the bun of her burger, and Wren simply laughed.
"You were a weird kid Emmy, you'd have to be more specific." The short haired woman said, a fond smile on her thin face as she looked at her daughter.
"Like did I say things or know about things I shouldn't have?"
Wren put down her burger on her plate as she thought for a moment. "Kind of. I was pretty strong on making you watch educational things when you were younger. You used to glue yourself in front of the TV whenever the history channel was on, and you'd make comments as if you were there." Wren said with a fond chuckle. "You had a weird imagination."
"What kind of comments?" Emeline asked, barely hiding the curiosity alight in her brown eyes as she took a sip of the soda that her mom had put out for her, the carbonation finding its way up her nose and making her cringe at the dull sting it left.
"You'd correct the placements of those battle reenactments or point out when they were wearing the wrong clothing or if they got a fact wrong. The creepiest was when you'd glue yourself there and wouldn't speak." Wren's face screwed up in confusion, wondering why her daughter was suddenly asking so many questions.
"Wouldn't speak?" Emeline asked, wondering how her mother had never mentioned this before. It seems casual to her mother, like she'd seen Emeline do it everyday. They didn't exactly talk about Emeline's childhood much, but she was surprised her mother hadn't even used it to embarrass her in front of her friends or something.
Wren shrugged, the necklaces around her neck clanging together. "You'd sit inches from the TV, I thought you were going to go blind because of it." Wren looked a little uncomfortable as she talked about it."You'd just be there, completely silent as you watched with your wide little brown eyes, and you wouldn't let me turn it off or you'd cry."
"How old was I?" Emeline asked in a strained voice, knowing that she had to be very young. Her memories started early, and she had no memory of this ever happening.
"You stopped around the time you were six or seven? It started when you were only a baby. You had an obsession." Wren said, taking another bite of her burger before laughing about something she'd remembered. "Unrelated, but since we're talking about weird stories, do you remember how you wouldn't sleep on your own until you were eight? At least once a week you'd come crying and running to my room."
Emeline nodded, she did remember that. She'd been scared of the dark until she was twelve, which was a pretty embarrassing age to still be afraid of the dark.
She finally started on her own burger, turning stuff over in her mind as she ate.
A/N Our little Emmy is starting to put things together, at least the stuff that pertains to her
