rebirth
noun
1. the process of being reincarnated or born again.
2. a period of new life, growth, or activity; a revival.
You know how those amazing ancient wuxia transmigration novels that start off with a description of a beautiful lotus flower filled pond with a lilac scented breeze wafting through the cloud shrouded night and our leading lady rises from the depths of the lily pool, reborn into a goddess phoenix that topples nations and causes princes and dukes to bow to her glory? Yeah, my rebirth was nothing like that.
I woke up to the stench of my own vomit and a little something else, a massive high fever and shivering chills. But at least I woke up. The moments ago memory of dying at the bloody hands of my step-sister and the guy who I thought was my love eternal, yeah, not the most pleasant of experiences ever in life. Or death in my case. Yep. I died. But I'm back.
"Oh Godess!" I moan, pull the vomit permeated pajama top off my body and slop it on the bedroom floor and try to figure out where and when the hell I am.
"High school. Circa eight odd years ago, senior year if those posters on the walls are anything to go by." I find myself in my teenage bedroom, probably before the crazy all began, but judging by the funeral clothes dumped on the floor in the corner, my father has just passed away in hospital and my mum is about to remarry her high school sweet heart.
Yep. Not even a week after his funeral and that stupid woman will pack us up and move us into a new mansion across town with her new hubby Wallace, his daughter - aka White Lotus Witch with a capital B, and my mum's four year old son Jack who I didn't actually know was her real bio son until moments before I died.
Oh that creeps me out. Just thinking about what I just went through, how I was killed. Hair shaved off, fingers broken, knee busted out, forced alcohol induced poisoning. Then they ran me over by my very own Maybach S650 with fracking Lewis 'Prince' Channing at the wheel.
Just the thought of the excruciating pain, the crunching of bones, sqeltching of internal organs, my own screaming echoing in my ears... I quickly kick off the soiled bed covers and race to the adjoining backroom, catching the vomit in my hands before the toilet is in position then heave everything all up that hadn't been emptied on my bed and pajamas already.
"Cough, cough, ew, nasty." My voice is croaky from hours of post-funeral crying and damage from stomach acids going where they shouldn't go. I flush the loo, strip off everything else I'm wearing and jump into the shower as it begins to warm up. Washing body, washing hair, brushing teeth then rinsing and repeat.
Half an hour later I'm standing in front of the bathroom mirror looking over my teen aged body. And what a fine body it is. Oh, I missed this body. Curly brown hair, almost ringlet like curls covers my head to my shoulders. I can't brush it at all when its dry or it will boof into afro town central and I'll look like a clown without the nose and shoes. I run the last of the leave in conditioner to tame the mess, marveling at the golden highlights that I haven't seen in my hair since I was a teen. Oh yeah, I am a teen. I gotta get used to that.
My eyes are light blue, after my father. He had similar light blue eyes with reddish dark brown hair. I think he was really handsome and I love that I have his eyes. My hair is from my mum. I check out my body, slim build, defined muscles on my arms and legs, from all the sports I did in high school, and running on weekends. But I love my pert butt and fantastic rack. I was always well endowed, something that I think I get off my great grandmother from my dad's side of the family, as my mother is almost flat as a pancake.
I sigh in envy, which is stupid as its my body I'm envious of even though I'm now in it. But it didn't last long, this great body of mine. The family mess, study stress, partying and wasting my university years on a stupid arts major all lead me to putting on heaps of weight and my 5 foot 5 pixie frame became 5 foot 5 blubber butt central. So you can understand why I'm struggling with the envy dichotomy thing my brain has going on. Its messing with my self image, spacial awareness, my gait and balance because I'm still walking like I'm a hundred pounds over weight.
I finish combing my wet hair and carefully towel dry it, then walk out in a tank top and panties to my mother, Brooke Twice, knocking on the bedroom door.
"Lily, are you alright?" I start a little as she steps into view with a scrunched up nose. "Oh, are you OK in here? Were you sick in the night?" I really want to roll my eyes at the obvious pointing out of obvious.
"No, I had gremlins over for a tanker and it got a little out of hand." Sarcasm is my go-to for when I'm upset and even as a 24 year old adult it was still one of my major flaws in my toolkit. I walk up to her, grab her hand that's not covering her nose, place it on my forehead and wrap my arms around her waist, burying my face in her neck in a half hearted attempt at gaining sympathy. She might just change my sheets if she feels 'needed'. Even with the stench.
"I'm sick. 45 degrees, I'm certain. I'll call the school and let them know I'll be off until the bug has passed the suburb on by."
"Lily, you are hot. Oh honey, you should have called me in the night." She fusses over me and I nearly want to cry. She hasn't treated me like this since she was trying to show me off to her high school sweet heart slash new husband the week we moved in. She was so proud of me back then. Gosh that was years ago, but strangely, it will take place sometime in the next week.
I groan trying to piece everything together in my mind, realising that there is so much to sort out and plan for. I can't let it all happen like that again. I can't lose to those bastards who took everything from me and threw me away. I can't let them kill me and steal my Maybach baby.
"I can't." I groan as tears slip down my face, remembering all the pain and hurt, being chased out of town then hunted down like a dog.
"You can't what, Lills? Don't worry, I'll take care of the bedding. Go rest up on the couch in the lounge." She kisses my head, checking my temp again then murmurs that I am a little hot.
"I'm sorry mum." I want to tell her I'm sorry about much more than the current stinking mess, but how do you tell your mother that in about two years time everything is going to go all to hell and she will hate me forever. If I don't change, don't get my shit together, don't stop some major events from taking place. Like Jack. I shake my head. Don't want to think about what happened to little Jac-jac.
"Go lie down. School is tomorrow, no need to call in." She gently pushes me to the hall encouraging me to go rest.
"Thanks, mum. Sorry about the mess. My dirty pajamas are in the sink," I croak then move down the hall.
Spare blankets are in the hallway cupboard and an extra pillow. I bundle myself up like a sushi roll and curl up on the couch and let oblivion take me. Its much easier to do that than think about the fact that I just came back in time. One thing I can be thankful for, no more facial scars courtesy of the White Witch. I brush my hand over my smooth face and right shoulder just before falling to sleep with a scowl on my face.
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Author's Note: I've been enjoying writing Lily Twice's story. Thank you for reading. I also have another story in the works - Lina Laruna's story. Please check out: "You Will Be Found."
Found here: www.wattpad.com/story/285394437-you-will-be-found
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~This is an ORIGINAL webnovel by author JV Findlay. Feel free to support her work over on ko-fi.com/jvfindlay ♥~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~