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Krissy

It was a strange feeling. A tingling spread through the body from the core out. As the tingling spread so did function. Heart pump. Lungs expand. Hand into fists. Bend knees. Wiggle toes. Eyes open.

Light seemed to fill the whole universe. As the eyes adjust, the light is only overhead. The body raises and noises now enter the world. Two other bodies are also in the room and they move erratically, frighteningly, causing alarm. Arms move to defend self and confusion ensues.

The noises began to make sense. One of them is a woman and she is my mother. She calls me Krissy. She tells me of who I am of how she lost me to the accident that she won't tell me about.

The other is her assistant. He is always watching but Mother tries to keep him away from me. He haunts her to attend to her work but she counters that I am her work. She insists only I matter.

The few times the assistant is with me he whispers of souls and destiny and the ultimate transformation. He whispers of how he was being selfish before with my brothers and sisters and as I am for Mother and not himself, he must be onto right path. He confuses me with his words that make no sense but that he insists are important. Mother is angry and says I have no siblings. No equal.

Mother eventually starts taking me outside. We visit some parks and other places with other children. She pushes me to do and act like the others. She takes delight when I laugh and play like they do.

But every night now, the assistant finds his way to me and keeps on with his whispering. He tells me how I'm watching the wrong things. Stop watching the children and watch the adults. How am I supposed to remember how to be a daughter when I'm look at mothers and fathers? But his words always seem to sing to the empty places within me so I do it and I see it.

They don't flinch. They see their daughters and run to them and love them without hesitation. Mother pauses every time she comes to me and has to gather herself before she holds me. She talks slowly to me like she has to pick her words carefully out of a briar patch. She doesn't really look at me the closer she is. I try to turn her head to look at me and she shutters at the touch.

I test it with the other parents and they are happy enough at first with the girl playing with their children, but the child soon cries. The parent comes and I can almost see the line in the sand  where concern changes to fear or disgust.

And it never goes away. It spreads. The more I look the less they hold their children. The less they look each other in the eye. The more they scowl at me. We used to be able to change parks and be okay for a few days, but now, when we get there people leave.

Mother has even started yelling at her assistant. The day after she finally drivers him away, I'm awoken by a loud crash. I go out to find Mother laying still in a pool of blood. I sit and wait. And wait. And wait.

Nothing changes until a knock comes on the door. I don't answer it but that does not stop them. Men in uniforms swarm our home and I'm torn from Mother's body.

More and more locked rooms. I'm passed from one to another while they whisper around me. They are obsessed with who I am. They seem unable to understand that I am Krissy and Mother is Mother.

I am finally put in a room with a man called Detective Amimis. He brings me a framed picture of me and Mother. She is smiling broadly as her arms drape over my shoulders. "You say you're Krissy? This is Krissy."

"This is a picture of us on our last holiday." It was before the accident. I remember Mother telling me all about it. He held out another frame to me. It was metal and had the face of a girl in it who seemed to have been in the same room I was in now. The picture seemed to move as I moved...

He tapped it. "That's a mirror. Maybe you've heard of one of those. That's what you look like." I dared to look closer and saw that he was lieing.

The girl in this "mirror" had a face with skin too light and hair too dark. The face itself even had the wrong lines and shapes entirely. "The accident, it was bad" I offered.

"No 'Krissy.' There was no accident. There was a divorce and the real Kristen was taken away to live with her father. That picture," he thumped the picture hard again, "is the last picture of them together and it was taken over 15 years ago. Kristen is living her own life with her own family!" He stood slamming down the photo, shattering the glass.

He opened his mouth to continue when someone opened the door and silently beckoned to him. When he returned he had a small folder. "I'm sorry Miss. We seem to have found your real family. Your real parents are flying here to get you," and he left the folder open on the table and let himself out leaving me alone.

The folder had pictures of the girl in the mirror. Some pictures she was in fancy dresses, others she was with a man and woman smiling. The only writen document detailed how Sarah Sheldon had gone missing eight months ago. The other two from the photos soon appeared with loud tears and flew me back to the home they thought I belonged to.

I had a new mother and this one came with a father too. They were fervent about me seeing and talking to people about how I didn't remember them and me not remembering seemed to trigger a sadness in them.

It started creeping. Just like at the parks with my first mother, they started not looking at each other or at me even. Things that seemed to pass as normal when I first arrived started to trigger fights between them when they thought I couldn't hear. Talk eventually turned to sending me to live at a special school. I accept it and they jumped at the opportunity.

And its happening here too. The stares and glares. The whispering behind my back. It's worse then before. My things are getting broken and I'm getting shoved and tripped when ever I'm passing a group. I don't know what's going to happen to me. What home can I have if the poison is always follows me?

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