A Wasted Second Chance

Of New Worlds and Bathtime

"Huff Huff Huff" The sound of my own breath echoed in my ears as I awoke. It took me a few minutes to calm down and realize I was safe in my secure, though now moist with sweat, bed.

"I hate that dream..." I mumbled as I pulled myself hesitantly out of bed.

The dream in question was one I've had repeatedly for the past ten years. It was about the place I never wanted to return to. A place I had spent only a brief time in. A place that left a crippling fear in my heart. The Underworld.

Nine years ago I died, went to the underworld, and was given a second chance. The reason for that second chance I have forgotten, maybe it had to do with my untimely demise, being only sixteen at the time, or possibly the way that I died, which was particularly gruesome or maybe it was just dumb luck. My death was awful and prolonged, I think it was the hypothermia that actually did me in, that or maybe my injuries. I was out of it for a long time leading up to my death, I can't even remember the last words I spoke or what exactly I was doing. All that I remember is the cold, and the horrible sights I saw immediately following.

"NO!" I thought, slapping my cheeks to cut short that awful memory.

During my delightful trip down memory lane, I managed to get up from my giant, poofy, warm bed, slide on some slippers, and walk to the mirror. The face that greeted me was, in a word, adorable. It had white hair that was cut around shoulder length, soft, round features, pale skin with a constant blush on my cheeks, and startling deep, red eyes. Not to mention the ears were of the cat variety, set atop the head in a way that exploded the cute radar. Ah yes, it was truly a sight for sore eyes, but what may surprise you is this. That face belonged to me!

...

Okay enough with the narcissism

...

Although, it's crazy that I look this cute.

In the end, I spent far too much time getting ready that morning.

.

.

.

"Ah, good morning, Jessamine," said my father with a charming smile as I walked up the table.

"'Mornin there, Pa"

"Did you have a nightmare again?"

"Oh! Ummm... no..."

I sat down and averted my eyes from Mikkel's. Mikkel was the man who wound up as my father in this new world I found myself in. He was handsome, charismatic, and polite. I liked him a lot as it happens, but can't see him as my father. I can't tell him that though. Anyway this morning I apparently didn't calm down enough from my nightmare. Or maybe it was just a parent's intuition, who knows.

"I don't believe you, but won't push the truth out of you either. My friend said that when girls get around your age they become more and more rebellious, and that forcing it wasn't worth it."

I took offense to that statement

"I am not rebellious?!?!"

"See? What was that right there if not rebellion." Mikkel said with a self-satisfied smirk, his smile could make any woman within 500 miles swoon. I found it deeply irritating.

"THAT'S NOT FAIR AND YOU KNOW IT!" I stood up in my chair and shouted with all my righteous indignation. I planned to continue my defense but was interrupted.

"That's enough you two"

Still fuming, I turned my attention to the voice. The woman who owned that voice was of the particularly graceful sort, a sort of untouchable beauty. Her name is Rosetta and she is my mother. As well as, at the moment, also a tool for my success.