What if . . . you could redo it all?
The novella. #3 TimeTravel.
If you could go back in time and redo one thing in your life, what would it be?
Anaya, a disillusioned, thirty-five-year-old doctor, has been looking after Gregory, a retired watchmak...
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2000, Eighteen Years Backwards
When Anaya's eyes finally snapped opened, she immediately forced them shut again, as if her eyelids alone could shield her from what she might have just done.
The attempt was futile. She'd time traveled not just once, but twice in the same day already. That took away the luxury of pretending it was a dream.
I'm seventeen. I didn't die. I've got another shot at life. Anaya repeated this over and over.
Gradually, she mustered enough courage to squint through her eyelashes. The white ceiling felt like it bore down on her and the teal walls boxed her in. As her panic and disorientation ebbed away, the room seemed to elongate and rise. This was her old bedroom in her parents' house, she realized.
Then, she cringed. My vibrant phase. The Armageddon of sorts expected at the dawn of year 2000, aka Y2K, had been all the craze back then. In preparation, Anaya and her friends had made their rooms into mini time capsules of everything they loved. You know, in case they were trapped in there for all eternity. Or something like that. One wall was plastered with posters of every movie she'd ever loved, ranging from 'Top Gun' to 'Legends of The Fall', and the other dedicated to artists that had sung her through every smile and tear. Toni Braxton, Jewel, Nickelback, Tupac, all peered down at her from their carefully decided places.
Her decor, her clothes, her style at this age were all so... Beverly Hills 90210, college version.
What the hell am I thinking?! I just travelled back in time! Lightening fast, she snatched up a pillow and pressed it into her face with all the strength she had to conceal her scream. Albeit muffled, it was a shrill, chandelier-crackling, throat-hoarsing cry of desperation.
Then she started hyperventilating. Not good, not good!
Anaya knew what would come next if she didn't find a way to calm down. More than half of the people who had bipolar disorder experienced one or more anxiety disorders as well. A hypomanic episode would follow, bringing recklessness, aggressiveness, and sometimes, hypersexuality along with it for the ride.
Focus on something else, something small!
With herculean effort, Anaya removed the pillow from her face. Rays of sunshine seeped through her lace curtains. She checked the table on her right, where her digital alarm clock would be. On cue, it sounded out 07:00.
My parents! She could barely come to terms with the fact that she was actually here herself, let alone begin to understand what anyone else knew or remembered. Throwing the duvet over her head, she burrowed farther into it.
But she could hear no noises. No movement. Nothing happened.
Then it came to her. Eighteen years ago, now, both her parents worked. An accountant and an entrepreneur. At this time of the morning, they'd have hit the gym together before burying themselves in work.
