CHAPTER SIX - Another Patricia

My head throbbed so hard it felt like it was splitting open again and again. A sharp, pounding pain that swallowed all my other senses.

Somewhere close by, I heard what sounded like soft sobbing from...a child?

“Mom, are you okay?”

“ M…mom’s dead!”

“She’s not dead! She’s just sleeping!”

“Mom, please wake up!”

Mom?

The voices echoed in my skull. I forced one eye open and the first thing I saw was a filthy ceiling covered in cobwebs, dirt, and stains. It was incredibly disgusting to look at, so disgusting in fact that I felt confusion wash all over me. Was this… a morgue?

I took a deep breath and froze. There was no pain in my chest. None of the sharp stabs that had come with every inhale before my accident. My head still hurt, but it was fading.

The crying grew louder and I opened both eyes and sat up.

The sight before me made my blood run cold.

I was lying in what looked like the dirtiest room I’d ever seen. The floor was covered with dust and trash, bottles of beer and cheap liquor littered everywhere. Dirty plates stacked high in a corner, flies buzzing around them. Rat droppings were on the floor, and roaches crawled on the walls.

I turned and froze again.

There were children by the door. The oldest, a girl that looked about twelve, trembled as tears streamed down her face. In her hand was a worn brown envelope, which she held tight the moment I looked her way. Beside her was a small boy, maybe five, holding a younger toddler girl who couldn’t have been more than three.

They all stared at me, eyes wide with fear like they were waiting for me to explode.

My head throbbed so badly I flinched reaching to touch the side of my head but when I pulled away I saw a trace of blood. My chest tightened. None of this made sense. The last thing I remembered was running—no, sprinting—into the highway, my father and Malcolm chasing after me. Then I remember stopping as blinding lights from a car hit my eyes. Then came the sound of screeching tires. Then I died.

No one could have survived that.

Especially not someone who was already dying.

So why was I still here? And more importantly… where was here?

I turned to look at the little children again, who were standing close together like scared little animals. The oldest girl’s face twisted with anger and tears as she grabbed a brown envelope from the table and threw it at my feet. Dollar bills spilled across the floor from it.

“Go ahead and give it to your stupid boyfriend!” she shouted, her voice shaking. “I don’t care what happens to this family anymore!”

Before I could say a word, she stormed off, slamming the door so hard the walls shook. The boy held the baby girl tighter in his arms, staring at me with big, frightened eyes before running into a room and locking the door behind him.

Everything after that moment became pitch silent.

“What the hell…” I whispered, pushing myself up. My body felt strange…stronger, heavier so much so that it took me a second to get used to it. I looked down at my clothes and felt the urge to vomit. I was wearing a faded pattern dress that looked stained.

I frowned wondering what the hell I was wearing when my eyes darted to my hands.

They were different. Not thin and fragile anymore like they could snap at any moment. There was color in them. It looked…alive.

My heart pounding, I stumbled toward the bathroom, flinching at the smell that hit my face. It smelt of mold, sweat and something very disgusting. I gagged, covering my nose, then forced myself to look at the cracked mirror.

I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.

The woman staring back at me from the mirror… wasn’t me.

Her hair was darker, tangled and messy. Her skin looked smoother and younger. Her eyes were piercing blue and nothing like mine was. But when I tilted my head, she did too.

A cold shiver crawled down my spine. My fingers trembled as I touched the mirror, brushing against the reflection that moved exactly as I did.

This wasn’t Patricia Dawson.

This was someone else. But why was I in her body?

Panic began to claw its way up my throat. I stumbled back, my breathing started coming out uneven. Then the headache hit again and flashes of memories that didn’t belong to me crashed into my mind.

Flashes of another life came rushing in of children crying, bottles clattering, the stench of alcohol, a small run-down house.

I gripped the sink, squeezing my eyes shut as tears slid down my cheeks.

That was when I understood.

Patricia Dawson—CEO of Dawson Industries was dead.

Rosie had betrayed me. My parents had turned their backs on me. My husband failed me.

And now… I was in someone else’s body.

Her name was Patricia Allen.

She was the alcoholic single mother of Anna, Billy, and little Gracie. Her husband had been a factory worker, killed in a freak accident just three months ago. The insurance payout was only a hundred thousand dollars which was barely enough to survive, but instead of using it to care for her children, she’d been on her way to give it to her lover. A married neighbor he’d been having an affair with.

That night, before I entered this body, she’d gotten into a fight with her twelve-year-old daughter, Anna. Anna tried to stop her and that turned into a screaming match. While they were struggling with the envelope, Patricia tripped and hit her head on the floor.

And that was when I—Patricia Dawson—opened my eyes in her body.

A broken humorless laugh slipped past my lips.

Before I died, I’d prayed for another chance.

I just never imagined this was how God would answer.

Now, I am Patricia Allen.

A widow. A mother.

And whether I liked it or not… this was my second chance.

Which meant…

I stretched out my hands, turned my head from side to side, and laughed. Then I jumped—actually jumped—like a child seeing sunlight for the first time.

I was healthy.

In this body, I didn’t have cancer. In this body, I wasn’t fading away on my matrimonial bed, counting my last breaths.

I was alive.

My heart pounding, I ran out of the bathroom and threw open the window. Warm air rushed into my face, carrying the noise of the city. Hawkers were shouting, cars honking, people arguing, laughing, living.

Life.

It was everywhere.

I pressed a hand to my chest and inhaled deeply. For the first time in a long time, the air didn’t hurt to breathe.

“It’s beautiful…” I whispered.

Then my eyes swept around the small, rundown house with the peeling wallpaper and half-empty bottles added with the faint smell of smoke and alcohol. I slowly started to realize that I hadn’t just inherited Patricia Allen’s body… I’d inherited her life, her responsibilities and her problems.

But instead of fear, something else burned inside me, it was joy.

Because now that I was alive, I had something I never thought I’d get again…time.

Time to make things right.

Time to make them pay.

Malcom. My so-called family. Every last one of them.

One way or another… I’d take back everything they stole from me.