Nothing | Nobody

Prologue

The world fades away as the suspected dark dreamless half sleep encompasses me.

Oh, ah... again, is all I can think before I'm sucked in and disappear.

I wake... suffocating. I freak out and sit up too fast, displacing the murder weapon, only to whine and drop back down as memories surge into my mind, colorful, vivid, unique and crazy. The white fur-ball that I suspect to be the attempted murder weapon shakes itself off the floor and jumps back up on the - my - bed, yipping at me in discontent about her disturbed sleep. Lily... thats her name. I have a sudden unfamiliar urge to smile brightly at her and call her over to adore her. I gulp and start to shake it off before my face surfaces in my mind - bright, cute and artsy with a brown hair in multiple shades shaped into a masterpiece of a pixie cut.

My head aches as I try to update myself. My breath is easier and faster.

Artist-rich-famous-young-events-Lily-exboyfriend-rival-parents-friends-mentor-studio-articles-Lily-eccentric-bipolar. Information in a random pattern gets registered into my brain.

Oh... I see. Lily crawls into my lap and I look down, pause for a second, then lean in to pet the pampered Bolognese as i sigh. Muscle memory kicks in as i get up to head to the toiler then arrange my timetable on my head quickly and smoothly. Sick! I'm good! I think as i tilt my head at my choice of words, then wonder about that.   

I am walking towards a hyper Lily's food cupboard when I come to. Again, it happened again. I sink down into a sitting position as Lily, discontent for the second time that day, the poor little thing, starts  yipping around me trying to get my attention to her empty food bowl. I sigh and get up as a strange care for her surfaces in my heart. I fill the food and water bowls with her favorite food to make up for today, then I make my way to the bed. I half-lie-down as I'm used to but it feels uncomfortable with the fresh lack of fat. I settle on my back as I start to freak out a bit.

Okay, that's three times now and this time I'm definitely not in India, though at least I'm female. Only... what do i do about this?

I'm shaken out of my train of thought as my parents come rushing into the room. My mother kisses my on my head and tells me to hurry in an unfamiliar language as father gets my bags together.

I reply to my mother fluently in the same language and get out of bed while relevant memories of the art camp come to me. As a prodigy I'm in a quite senior position but as a teenager I'm still just a junior mentor.

Walking across the bathroom I freeze. Art... creativity... is that something that stays with this body or is it retained from my consciousness? An ominous fear builds up in my chest...