The Long Run (Prequel to Time Loop)

Chapter One

(First part is in Spanish. Sorry? I tried my best to translate for those who don't speak Spanish)

May,1951

"¡Cumpleaños felíz! Te deseamos a ti," my mother and father sang happily. She held her stomach as she sang, showing her baby bump under her turquoise dress. It was going to be a boy. So far mom and dad were stuck between Emmanuel and Anthony.

I was turning 13 today, but it didn't feel like it. Most of my friends have already been starting to go through puberty and I looked eight. Everyone just said it was maybe cause I had a late growth spurt, but I wasn't so sure.

Once the song was over, they both waited for me to blow the candle. I stood up from my chair, leaning over to blow the flame. Thanks to my clumsiness however, I tripped forward and my arm hit the candle forward, making it fall onto the beige table cloth.

Panicking, I held my hand out to catch it when suddenly, the candle stopped mid-fall. It literally was hovering over the table.

"¿Comó?"I glanced around to see if my parents were seeing what was going on, but when I looked up, I realized their expressions had been frozen in place. "¿Máma? ¿Pápa?"(How? Mom? Dad?)

I waved my hands in front of their faces, but to no avail. Maybe I'm just dreaming. With that in thought, I blew away the flame of the candle that was still frozen in mid-air, then discarded the candle.

After that, I sat back in my chair, waiting for things to go back to normal. So there I waited. And I waited. Probably hours had past by then and nothing changed. The wide eyed gasp still stuck on my mother's face and the frightened grimace on my dad's face didn't change. I stared at the clock beside me. The long hand had stayed on 7 and the short hand on 32 for quite a while now.

"Necesito dormir," I told myself and stood up from my seat, walking upstairs to my room. Sleep would clear my head.(I need to sleep.)

I don't remember exactly when it was I fell asleep, but I was grateful I did. Once I had woken up, everything seemed normal again. Voices could be heard downstairs and that calmed me down. As I rushed downstairs in my nightgown, I could see my mother cooking and my dad reading the paper.

"Mira esto, Juan Perón perdido nuestra dinero otra vez," my father shook his head in disbelief as he read, "He perdido toda esperanza por esto país." (Look at this, Juan Perón wasted our money once again. I have lost all hope for this country.)

Juan Perón was the president of our homeland, Argentína. We weren't allowed to speak bad about him outside of home. He was an okay president in my opinion, he was just terrible at managing the economy.

"¿Pápa?" I peeked out from the corner. (Dad?)

"¿Isabelle, dormiste bien?" my dad asked with a slight look of concern, "No comiste su biscocho." (Isabelle, did you sleep well? You didn't eat your cake.)

"¿No recuerdas lo que sucedió ayer?" I arched a brow. (You don't remember what happened yesterday?)

"¿Que pasó?" my mom asked. (What happened?)

"Ustedes congelaron," I said simply, resulting in blank, confused stares. (You both froze.)

"¿Tuviste una pesadilla?" my dad furrowed his eyebrows. (Did you have a nightmare?)

I shook my head, "No, yo me recuerdo eso. Todo era real." (No I remember it. It was all real.)

"¿Estas enfermo?" my mother walked over to me, placing the back of her hand on my forehead. (Are you sick?)

I backed away, "¡No! ¿Por qué no me crees?" (No! Why don't you believe me?)

Long story short, they thought I was genuinely just imagining things and that nothing happened. Soon enough, I started to believe that too and moved on.

That was until, they actually brought in a therapist to see me. "Hola, me llamo Doctor Qinto. ¿Tú eres Isabelle, sí?" the doctor asked with a polite smile. (You're Isabelle, yes?)

I nodded, "Sí pero yo soy bien. No necesito ayuda. No soy loca." (Yes, but I'm fine. I don't need help. I'm not crazy.)

"¿Comó es su vida en su casa? ¿Tus padres son amables o no?" He asked, completely disregarding my statement.(How's your life at home? Are your parents nice or not?)

"Están bien," I rolled my eyes, wanting this to be over. I expected him to ask something else, but he had oddly been quiet. When I glanced back up to look at him, I realized he had a frown on his face. "¿Que?" (It's fine...what?)

"Perdoname porque no es bueno lo qué yo voy a decirte," the doctor said, taking off his glasses, "Tus padres están enviando al hospital. Pues, no crees qué ellos no te amor. Ellos
están tratando de ayudarle a." (Forgive me because what I'm about to tell you isn't good... Your parents are sending you to a mental hospital. But, don't think they don't love you. They're just trying to help you.)

"¡No me dice eso!" I shook my head and stood up. I waited for him to say something else, but his facial expression was stagnant. "¿Doctor?" (Don't tell me that!...Doctor?)

Unresponsive. I snapped in his face and he didn't even blink. I shook my head in disbelief, "No, no otra vez." (No, no not again.)

I backed away nervously, unsure of what to do or where to go. My mind was racing and I couldn't think straight. The only thing I could think of, was to run.