This Life Isn’t Mine
Copyright © 2017 Dominique Laura
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, or by any other means, without written permission from the author. The only time passages may be used is for a teaser, blog post, article, or review, so long as the work isn’t being wrongfully used.
This book is a work of fiction. Characters, names, places, events, and incidents portrayed are solely from the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual places, people, events, or other incidents is coincidental or are used fictitiously.
Cover Design: Liv’s Lovely Designs
Formatting: Formatting Done Wright
Dedication
To anyone who has ever felt out of place or lost.
This life is—and always will be—yours.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Epilogue-ish
Author’s Note
Other Books
Acknowledgements
My eyes opened to an overly lit, bright room. I blinked several times, the black fuzziness lining my vision from the harsh light slowly fading as my eyes adjusted. I couldn’t feel my fingers or toes—actually, I couldn’t feel much of anything. Worry filled my mind and I tried with every fiber of my being to move a muscle or two.
I couldn’t. Nothing was happening.
I looked at the white blanket that wrapped my body like a burrito and at the blank walls of the room I was in. It was quiet, aside from the beeping of machines on either side of me. I swallowed back my fear and closed my eyes for a second, gathering some strength. I was fine, I must have just been in an accident or something.
The beeping faded and soon I was blanketed in complete silence, my own thoughts too loud for me to listen to.
I released a sigh of relief.
Maybe that was a good thing, maybe they had heard the beeping and decided to turn it off. I searched for any sign of someone coming, but I saw nothing, no one around.
I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out. I tried to scream, but not even a breath formed. It was then I noticed that my chest wasn’t moving up and down the way one should when you breathe, or when your heart is beating.
Why aren’t I breathing? I inwardly screamed at myself. What’s happening to me? Someone please save me. Oh, God.
I closed my eyes, willing myself to sleep. I hoped that when I woke up my life would right itself again. I just needed to rest and everything would be fine.
I drifted into a slumber deeper than one I had ever experienced, except I didn’t dream, I didn’t do anything. My mind was just blank and empty for the duration of my sleep, if that’s what I was even doing.
My eyes blinked open again to the same brightly lit room, except—wait, this wasn’t the same room. It looked a whole lot similar, but it wasn’t it.
Panic rose inside my chest and I opened my mouth, a baby-like scream leaving my body. It was shrill and ear-piercing, but I hoped someone would hear me. I was exhausted, and I had just slept for whoever knows how long. I just wanted my mom, my dad, my sister, my whole life back.
I was tired and emotionally drained. All I wanted was to go home.
A pair of arms wrapped themselves around me, and I was held against a chest I wasn’t all that familiar with. I went to move my head but the arm held me tighter against its body. I felt like they were holding my whole body, which didn’t make sense because last I checked I was a twenty-six-year-old woman, not a child. I squinted my eyes, looking at the face that cooed down at me. My eyes widened and I tried to flail away from the stranger, but I couldn’t. My body wouldn’t let me.
I heard sounds of laughter and hushed voices talking, but I couldn’t hear what they were saying in detail, I couldn’t even see them. It was like my vision had went from being near-perfect to being almost non-existent.
Maybe I was dreaming, that had to be it. I would sleep again and wake up to my boring, slightly-above-average life. I was going to need a girl’s night out after this weird dream-like haze, that was for damn sure.
I snuggled against the body that held me and drifted off to sleep.
Everything will be okay in the morning, you just wait and see, I promised myself.
Things weren’t okay in the morning. No, they were horrifying. I woke up every day for seven years feeling like I was an imposter in a life that was never supposed to be mine, or maybe it was, but I didn’t want it. I wanted my old life back, the life I had unwillingly left to live this one. It was like a fresh start, a never-ending cycle of life, that again, I didn’t want.
I was only supposed to be ages one, two, three, and on, once, not twice. I was a twenty-six-year-old English teacher with a supportive family and even more supportive friends, and I had finally found love with a really incredible guy. At least those were the few facts about myself that I remembered. So, why was I being punished? Why was I being forced to start life all over, and as someone new for that matter? I didn’t understand it.
“Uggggghhh,” I yelled, throwing the doll house the lady who liked to call herself my mother gave me against the wall. I didn’t want anything from her, from this child life. “This isn’t fair!”
“Everly,” Claire said as she opened the door to the room. She claimed it was mine, but I refused to take ownership of anything in this life. I was fully prepared to return to my old one as soon as I figured out how. If there was a way, I was going to find it.
She said my name again and I continued to ignore her.
“I wish you’d talk to me.” Her voice was barely above a whisper and her eyes looked sad.
“Talking to you is honestly the last thing I want to do, but it has nothing to do with you and everything to do with this life, I promise you that.”
As always, I kept my voice level when speaking to her. I used to lash out at her, but then she forced me into therapy and after I shared my theory about my newfound life with the guy, he wanted to put me on medication. Yeah, like that was ever going to happen. I wasn’t crazy, just wanted my life to return to normal.
Thankfully, Claire agreed with me because she didn’t want me to take medicine when it wasn’t needed. She said my dreams were vivid, but that was all there was to it.
Two points to Claire.
“You know, Everly, you’re wiser than any seven year old I’ve ever met.”
“I know, Claire, you tell me that all of the time.” I shook my head and sat on the small twin-sized bed, or well, the normal-sized bed since it fit my small, un-woman-like body.
“You still think you’re someone else?”
“Why do you ask like that? Especially when you know the answer. I tried to explain this to you before, but you wouldn’t listen.”
“I’m really trying here, Everly.” Her voice shook as she spoke. “I’m your mother, and I really wish you would treat me lik
e it.”
My stomach churned, and I nearly puked at her words. She, along with everyone else, referred to herself as my mother, when really she was far from it. My mother was a fifty-two-year-old thick, fearless woman. The complete opposite of this Claire person, but she would never accept that because she truly believed that I was her daughter. And I guess on some level she was right, I just didn’t like to admit it.
“You’re my miracle, Everly, and I love you,” she said, reaching out to touch me. I flinched back instinctively and she shook her head, disappointment clear on her face. “Your name is Everly Hope Davis and you are a seven-year-old girl from Dallas, Texas, with your whole life ahead of you.”
Goosebumps formed all over my skin as my body reacted to the words she said, tingling at the conviction behind her words.
“Stop saying that!” I screamed at her, my heart pounding ferociously against my chest.
“My name is Penelope Gomez and I am a twenty-six-year-old woman from Los Angeles, California with an English degree. I understand why you think what you do but believe me when I say, I am not this girl. I’ve been transported into this alternate universe and all I want is my old life back.”
That’s what I wanted to yell, to scream, to holler, but instead I settled with, “I’m not supposed to be here.”
She sighed, resigned. “I know you want to believe that but it’s just a dream you had when you were younger and it was so vivid that you started to forget your real life. It’s okay, honey.”
My eyes widened, disgust filling my gut at her naive words. She knew nothing and she would never even try to understand, that was the unfortunate part.
“You know,” I said. “For someone who claims to supposedly love me, you really should practice your trust.”
She walked toward the bedroom door and turned to say more to me. She always did have something more to say.
“Sometimes I forget you’re only seven years old,” she said with a sigh. “Dinner will be ready in a bit, and I would appreciate it if you would come join us.”
“Us?” I questioned.
“My best friend, Emily, is coming over with her son Elliot. You two get along really well, and he has been in your life since you were a baby, so please be kind tonight. I don’t think that’s asking too much, Everly.”
I rolled my eyes and resisted the urge to sneer at her. I had to constantly remind myself that she wasn’t the enemy and that whoever was responsible for my being trapped here was the real reason to blame.
If this was what I feared it was then I was going to be stuck in this new life for a lot longer than I wanted to and making the most of it would probably do more good than harm, possibly.
I groaned.
“Fine, decision made,” I mumbled to myself.
Before she could leave, I called out to her. She turned expectantly with a look of hope on her face. I could do this. I gave her my most sincere smile, if that was even possible, and nodded my head.
“Dinner sounds fun. I’ll be on my best behavior too.”
I stared at myself in the mirror, not really sure if I would ever get used to the girl staring back at me. She was opposite of everything I was before.
The girl I used to be, physically anyway, had dark features—tan skin, naturally plum-colored lips, brown eyes, black hair. The person I seemed to be now had light, almost fair skin, bright hazel eyes, and ash-brown hair. I didn’t know who this person was. I felt like an imposter whenever I walked, talked, or stared at her for too long. It made me cry myself to sleep at night. And most days, I couldn’t even get out of bed. I wasn’t supposed to be here, but I dealt with it.
Some days were easy to forget who I really was, while others were stark reminders of the people I had left behind. The reason was still unclear to me but being as though I was a child right now, there was little I could do about the situation, especially when everyone brushed off my cries of truth, claiming they were just too-realistic dreams. And although there was some truth to that, I knew in my heart that the life I was pulled from was one far too real to ever forget, hence those dreams.
I tried to smile but even my reflection frowned at me, at the attempt. It looked forced, weak, and painful—story of my current life. Even as the thought filtered through my mind, I knew that wasn’t all true. Claire did her best to be the best mom she could and it wasn’t that she was bad at it, she just wasn’t mine, but I knew she would be someone’s someday.
I swallowed back the defiant lump that had formed in the center of my throat. I wouldn’t cry, not today. I had done enough of that already. Besides, Elliot was coming over, and he wasn’t so bad. Well, for a seven-year-old boy anyway. Anyway, he was probably the closest thing I had to a best friend.
I sat at the kitchen table with my hands laced on my lap. Claire had outdone herself, per usual. I don’t think it was in her nature to not go over-the-top with something, especially gatherings, no matter how small they might be. Lio, as I liked to call him, sat across from me at the table with a genuine smile on his face, his deep brown eyes shining with happiness as he stared back at me. He was kind, even for someone so young. He didn’t tease, didn’t judge, I don’t think I had ever even heard him have a tantrum before. He was one of those rare types of children that didn’t complain, I can only imagine how much Emily, Claire’s best friend and his mom, loved that. Claire probably hated it though, having to watch his perfection and deal with the saltiness, ungratefulness of me.
“Okay,” Claire said as she set the last of the dishes down and took her seat beside me at the table. “Who wants to go first?”
I inwardly groaned, knowing immediately what she was referring to. Every night at dinner, whether it was just the two of us or with company, Claire had us go around the table and say something we were grateful for. Secretly, I think it was her subtle way of trying to get to know me better. That, or she really was as sweet as she had seemed since I—I shuddered at the remembrance—came out of her womb.
“I’ll start,” Lio exclaimed, nearly jumping up out of his seat. I shook my head at his adorableness. He was always so positive, it was no wonder he always had something he was thankful for on the tip of his tongue. “I’m thankful for Everly. She acts like a grownup a lot, but she’s my best friend in the whole entire world.”
I smiled wide at him. For seven years, since his birth and I guess since mine, we had been practically joined at the hip, and I knew he was always going to be here, so when I figured out how genuine he was, I decided to let my guards down around him. He made it easy, he made this life less heartbreaking than it would have been without him. He made the ache in my heart less painful whenever he was around. Even in kindergarten I knew how special he would be to me.
“You’ll always be my favorite, Lio,” I said softly. His eyes widened with happiness, before he turned to his mom, Emily, and asked what she was thankful for.
“I’m thankful that we’re all here together, sharing this meal,” she said with a sympathetic smile toward Claire. “It’s important for us all to be here for one another, especially when times get tough.”
My brows pulled together in confusion. That was something she mentioned a lot. And each time she did, she would stare at Claire. I wondered what she meant? Had Claire gone through something before I came along or was I the something she was going through? I didn’t care enough to ask, but still I was curious. Despite my reservations and guardedness toward her, she had been a part of my life for seven years and a small part of my soul cared for her in its own way, as much as I hated to admit that.
“What am I thankful for?” Claire cleared her throat and gave us all a nervous smile. “I’m thankful for all of you, especially Everly, my sweet little girl. I do love you, so much.”
I looked down at my hands, discomfort settling heavy on my chest. Everyone went silent and as I locked eyes with Lio across the table, I saw Emily reach out and give Claire’s hand a squeeze. After a few more beats of silence, they all turned and stared at me expectantly
, but I kept my eyes on Lio’s and when he gave me a reassuring smile, I breathed a sigh of relief. He was so young, but he was my favorite part about this life.
“Uh, okay,” I started awkwardly. “I’m thankful for Lio, the same way that he’s thankful for me. Best friends are hard to find, and I’m glad I’ve got him in this life.”
Lio’s smile widened, and I happily grinned back. I was going to try and live in this moment, in this life, because once I fell asleep, I knew I’d be transported back to my life as Penelope, as dreams reminded me of the life I no longer lived—my nightly routine, whether I wanted it to happen or not. They weren’t as vivid as Claire and other thought, some details were blurred, but I pieced them together as best as I could.
“Penelope, wake up,” My mom’s soft-spoken voice woke me from my sleep. I shook my head and kept my eyes closed. “Penelope, it’s a special day.”
“No, it’s not.” I murmured, pretending like I had no idea what she was talking about.
“Penelope Grace, today is the anniversary of your birth!” Her tone wasn’t so soft-spoken now. She shook the bed and wrapped me in her arms, pressing quick, wet kisses all over my face.
I laughed, jokingly trying to fend her off. “I’m a teenager now, mom, no wet kisses for me.”
“You’re right, thirteen deserves a giant cupcake and wet kisses!” She said excitedly, pressing more kisses against my cheek.
“Mom!” I laughed louder, shaking my head at her ridiculousness. My mom was the best. “I love you, you know that?”
“I do, birthday girl.” She gave me a tight squeeze. “And I love you, too. Now let’s get a move on this day while it’s still young. We don’t want to waste another minute not celebrating.”
I woke up in a sweat, wishing I could see more. Instead, I felt her love and heard her voice but was rarely able to get even the smallest glimpses of her face. I turned on my side, my body shaking from the pain of never knowing if I’ll get any answers, from the hurt of never understanding this predicament I was unwillingly placed in.
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