• I’ve heard the worst of it, been through the worst of it; all in another time…another life.

    We all have our stories, we all have our memories. Sometimes I wish I didn’t have my memories, because I wish I could forget…I wish I could go back to the time before I ever knew who I was. I don’t mean that person I put myself out to be me, let everyone believe was me. That person doesn’t even exist. That person could never exist; I could never exist, so long as I held these painful memories, so long as I remembered Grace. Sometimes I wish I wasn’t Hayden Jade Mercer.

    It’s been a little over two months; oh, how time changes in the blink of an eye, things alter so drastically, reality seems so distant…so unreal. About two months ago, I was normal, as normal one who was considered an outcast to my peers could ever be. However, that’s when I started having these ‘visions’.

    A little girl…the face I vaguely recognized, bobbing on the surface of a river as she went further and further down stream. Her arms were stretched out above her head. I just stared, frozen…as she gulped in what seemed to be streams of water. I was confused, so I went to the only people I could. My mother responded in her usual melodramatic manner.

    “Oh! John, what do you suppose this means? I read in a parenting magazine that violent thoughts are a warning sign of anger issues!” She sobbed theatrically, grasping the sleeve of my father’s navy blue jacket. Her face buried into his elbow, and her dark brown hair was all that I could see.

    “MOM! I don’t have anger issues! I’m not TRYING to think about this! Do you think I LIKE seeing a little girl drowning?” I threw my head into my hands, tugging on my medium length black hair. My green eyes flicked down to peer at our dusty orange 70’s shag carpet.

    Of course, to my misfortune, the confusion in my voice was mistaken for anger. My mom, being the flighty worrisome bird that she was, convinced my dad to send me to therapy. And, I’m not totally sure this is true, but I think the reason why I’m in the place I am now is BECAUSE of that. Being in therapy helped me remember…

    I still remember my first day of therapy, as clearly as possible with all these new and confusing memories that I have now…

    “I’m sorry, son. You know how Kimberly gets.” My dad patted me on my back. He had driven me here because, although my mom was dying to bring me, she was babysitting for some of her friends.

    The little room we walked into was exactly how you could expect. In all, it reminded me of a posh little office. The carpet was creamy beige, complementing the pastel rose walls. A little round glass coffee table was at the center of the room, an array of magazines spilled across the surface. The room was full of various pieces of furniture in shades of beige, ash, and cream. All I all, the room was very rectangular and very organized. A slight orangey antiseptic smell faded underneath the scent wafting from a cherry blossom candle lit on the coffee table.

    “Hello.” A professional doctor looking man appeared in a doorway which led down a small hallway. He was bald, except for the thinning gray hair on the sides of his shiny head. His tiny spectacles sat at the bridge of his pointy nose.
    “I’m just about ready for our session, would you like some coffee?” He pointed to a trickling coffee pot sitting in a corner.

    “No thanks.” My father answered for me. I wasn’t allowed to drink coffee. I never understood that rule, I wasn’t the most hyper kid. I was the solemn, keep to myself kid that rarely got out of hand. Okay, to be quite honest, I never got out of hand. Though don’t try to tell my mother that. Anyways, I was calm and collected for a fourteen year old boy. That was more than I could say for some of my peers who COULD drink coffee.

    “You should be okay from here, right?” My father asked, but he didn’t wait for my response. Instead, he walked out the glass doors, saying he’d be back in an hour.

    “Now then…” The man gestured for me to follow him through the hallway. We stopped at the third door down.

    I remember wondering if a big company ran the place, before the doctor showed me into the quaint room. It was exactly how you would guess. A little notepad sat on a plush blue chair, a stack of ink pictures rested on a tiny desk to the west side of the room.
    *****************

    That was when it all began; this was what led me to remember…This was why I would eventually remember…Grace.
    That was about two months ago. I continued the therapy for about a month, but the flashes…the memories…they were getting worse…I was seeing them more often. I convinced my parents that I wasn’t seeing the little girl in my mind…That wasn’t true, but it got me out of therapy. I couldn’t deal with it…

    Finally, things started to get better. The flashes got less frequent.

    It was all okay until yesterday. I was sitting in lunch, staring at my empty tray idly…Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through my skull. It took all of my will not to scream bloody murder. Instead, green- faced and sickly looking, I rushed to the nurse’s office automatically. I managed to contact my dad, my mom would have assumed it was a tumor or something and sent me to the emergency room. As I sat there, lying on the crinkly brown paper on top of one of the old beds in the nurse’s office…That’s when I remembered everything. I saw everything…I finally know what happened.
    ******************

    “C’mon! C’mon, James! We’re gonna be late! Momma an’ Papa are already at the party!” Grace twirled in her fancy white dress which Momma had just bought for her the day before.

    “Grace! Slow down!” I smirked playfully… “Or else you might trip!” I shouted, running towards her and scooping her up into my arms. Her curly red pigtails bounced up into the air. “What in the world have you been eatin,’ Grace?” I exaggerated, plopping her onto the ground.

    “If you get my new dress dirty, Momma’s gonna tell it to ya!” Her lip pushed out slightly, her hands rested on her hips. I rolled my eyes in response.

    Grace was my little sister, only seven years old. I was 14. Today was Aunt Margarette and Uncle Joseph’s 10th anniversary, and Momma and Papa left a little bit before us because they wanted some grown up time before all us kids came. I resisted a little bit to being called a ‘kid’, but it was my responsibility to take care a’ Grace, so here we were…walking to the party.

    “James! Look it’s the river! You still gotta take me swimmin’ one these times. You promised!” She pointed her tiny hand towards a small creek to the right.

    “Creek.” I corrected her. “And, no, I said when you’re older!”

    “I am older! Older than I was yesterday!” She said defiantly, running off course towards the creek.

    “Grace! Grace! Get back here!” I shouted, running to keep up with her. The water in the creek was bubbling, so I couldn’t see how deep it was from here. The current was pretty strong today; this could not be a good spot to swim even on a perfect day.

    “Grace, c’mon I thought you didn’t wanna be late!” But, the little girl just ignored me. She ran up to the creek, running at full speed.

    “Hmm….” I saw a mischievous glint in her eye.

    “Grace don’t you dare!” I shouted, but it was too late. She jumped into the creek, without even thinking for a second. She had ruined her pretty dress AND we’d be late for sure now. That wasn’t the worst of it. The water was too deep …Grace couldn’t swim.

    “GRACE!” I shouted, stopping at the edge of the river and peering down for any sign of her. I saw little strawberry curls bob to the surface.

    “James!” She swallowed a gulp of water and spit it out. She smiled, and I sighed. I had been worried for no good reason. It wasn’t as deep as I thought I guess. Slowly, she made her way towards me.

    PLOP! That was what I heard, then Grace’s smiling face disappeared underwater. She must have been standing on a rock…And now she was in the really deep water.

    “GRACE!” Her head bobbed up again, but she wasn’t smiling this time. The current had a hold of her now, and she was at its will.

    “JAMES!” She choked, as she flew swiftly down the stream.
    I stood there, frozen in fear. If I would’ve thought…I knew how to swim, I wasn’t thinking. I stood there, frozen…as my little sister floated downstream. It had all happened so fast.

    “James! James!” Her voice became more distant…Until finally she disappeared down stream behind a row of trees. That’s about the time I snapped out of it.

    “GRACE! GRACE! GRACE!” I screamed as I ran along the edge of the stream, my eyes scanning the creek for my sister. This couldn’t happen. This couldn’t happen. No. No. “NO!” My heart ached…My sister was gone. There was no sign of her; she had gone under long ago. Hot tears blinded me. If I was thinking, I would’ve jumped in. If only I had thought…If only I had thought…Grace wouldn’t be dead.

    After that, the rest of my life was a blur. I remember visiting her grave…engraved on it was:

    “Rest in Peace. Grace Pennington. 1762-1768.”
    ******
    I knew why I had this memory…exactly why. I had died with guilt, a guilt that transcended death, a guilt that carried on past my grave.
    I was…I am James Pennington…and in my past life I lost my little sister, and worst of all….it was all my fault.