In Six Years’ Time

The wind was almost brutal today, slapping my hair onto my face like little whips, leaving a small stinging sensation behind. The strong wind was good for me, not that I necessarily needed it but a little nudge in the right direction was welcome. After all, I made this decision. This was what I wanted.

Well, I wanted to die, that is.

I looked down at my toes that all but gripped the edge of the cliff. The water below was a dark gray that almost matched the sky. A storm was coming for sure. I was only a little sad that I would miss it. I always did love a good storm. The smell of rain was our favorite scent.

Now it was only mine.

But time was up for me. I made my bed and now I'd lay in it. I wasn't necessarily having second thoughts. I was just a little afraid.

I took a deep breath and lifted my arms. I would just gently glide over the edge. Free as a bird.

"I'll see you soon, Kace." I whispered before I closed my eyes and let my breath go, letting my weight fall forward until I felt my feet leave the ground.

I was free falling.

And it was fucking terrifying.

I wouldn't open my eyes. I instantly regretted this decision, the moment I felt my safety vanish and I was airborne. It was too late now, either I'll hit the jagged rocks below, or the water. Neither sounded like a good option anymore. I had wanted my pain to end, but I never considered the pain I'd feel as I felt it slip away.

My eyes were squeezed shut. I didn't want to see as I fell to the ground. I didn't want to know when I'd hit the jagged rocks. There are no second chances. I thought bitterly as I waited for the inevitable.

"But what if there were?" I heard a voice ask, and suddenly my eyes snapped open, finding myself standing at the top of the cliff again, my arms spread. I hastily threw my arms down and scrambled away from the edge, afraid that the wind really would give me the push I earlier had wanted, but now wish stayed far away from me.

Once I regained composure, I thought back to the voice I heard. Had I imagined it? Was the jump all one big hallucination? Maybe my brain tried to desperately keep me from dying so it gave me a play-by-play to keep me from jumping. If that's the case, it worked a little too well.

This decision to end my life was far too rash. I hadn't realized just how little I actually wanted to go through the process of dying. It wasn't until I didn't have the choice anymore that I suddenly realized I don't want to die. I just wanted my heart to have relief. I wanted the end result of death, without the process it took to get there.

I just wanted to be happy.

"I don't know about that—" the voice spoke again, and my legs gave out, sending me to the ground where I scraped my knee on the sharp gravel. "—but I can give you something better." It continued, not even phased by my terror. I didn't notice where the voice was coming from at first. There wasn't another person around. I looked for the silhouette of a man or at least another person, but found none. I began to wonder if I imagined it all until I heard it speak once more. "I am very real." It replied indignantly, and gave a little wiggle to attract my eye.

I finally looked down, stunned to see that it wasn't a man at all that spoke to me, but

a tortoise.

I shit you not, this was the biggest tortoise I had ever seen. I hadn't seen too many in my life, but he, by far, took the first place prize according to size.I had mistaken him for a part of the cliff he was so large. His shell was a similar color to the rocky exterior of the ground I stood on, and his size most certainly didn't attract my attention to him being a reptile. I just thought he was a large rock, so I paid him no mind.

But now, even crazier than his size, I realized he just fucking spoke to me. I looked around again. Surely there was a man somewhere that I had missed. Even if there was a giant tortoise hanging out, he couldn't speak. It wasn't possible.

"But that's where you're wrong, deary." The tortoise spoke again, not necessarily with it's mouth, but as if it spoke to me from my mind. It would explain how it seemed to hear my thoughts, though it didn't explain anything else. Like, for instance, how a tortoise was speaking to me.

"I'm not actually a tortoise. I thought that one was obvious." Despite the snarky comment, I couldn't help but give a laugh of surprise.

"You could have fooled me." I muttered, feeling dumb that I was even talking to it. Surely I really had died, and this was some weird post mortem hallucination. Or worse, what if this tortoise is actually...?

The tortoise laughed, startling my thoughts. "Close! I am not God, but a god." He confirmed, his nubby legs taking him a few steps closer. "The god of Time, as a matter of fact." He continued to speak, but the rest of his words were drowned out by my thoughts.

I was talking to a god. So either I really am dead, or I was seriously maimed and this was all a dream. Because, surely a god wouldn't just come to me for no reason.

"You're right," he spoke again, once more startling me. I was too secluded in my thoughts to really be able to pay attention to his conversation. I had died and he wanted to chat? "You're not dead, and I come with a deal I'd like to make with you." He waited for my response, but apparently even my face showed I didn't have one, so he continued. "Since you don't value your life anyways, how about you give some of it to me?" The tortoise tilted its head as it looked into my eyes with it's all too human ones. The knowledge and intelligence of this creature's eyes were far too superior to be just an overgrown tortoise.

"My life?" I asked dumbly, feeling to be in a stupor. My brain felt overloaded with too much information. I'm not dead, I'm speaking to a god, and he wants some of my life? What normal person wouldn't be overwhelmed?

"Some of it, yes. In specifics, I'd like six years of your life. Of course, not for free. I'd be willing to trade you something."

Six years? What an off number. What could a god need with six years of a depressed, early twenties human?

The tortoise laughed again. "What I want with it is of no concern for you. But what you should concern yourself with is what I have to offer you for it."

What did I have to lose, at this point? I had just thrown myself off a cliff. Even if I decided I didn't want to die, I was still miserable. If a damn god wants my life, might as well. "By all means, go on." I mumbled.

I suddenly felt a change in the air. The tortoise's face didn't change, but it felt like he had a sinister grin, like it had just received the most wonderful news in the world.

"I need six years of already lived life," the god began, drawing me into his explanation. "So my bargain for you is this: I take the last six years of your life, but give you the opportunity to redo it. I will send you six years, to the day, back in time and let you relive them however you want. Move to a new city, start a war, kill someone. I don't care. I just need the life you have already lived." I could only stare. I had no words. Here was this supposed god who wanted something from me, offering me the impossible for it. He would send me back in time by six years for me to do whatever I wanted, just so that he can do something with the six years I already lived? "And besides, you seem miserable with how your life turned out any how. Surely you don't need these last few years. You'll keep your memories of them, they just won't exist anymore."

I contemplated his deal. To go back in time six years, to get a chance to redo life. This was an opportunity no one would imagine. If it were real. Who could think it'd actually be possible to go back in time?

As crazy as it sounds, I agreed. Almost immediately, in fact. Despite hearing all the stories of the gods playing tricks on humans, despite all the ways this could go wrong, despite anything, I agreed. For one reason, and one reason alone.

I could keep my fiance from dying.

This whole thing, the whole reason my life has turned into this sad, meaningless blip on humanity. My fiance, my sweet, loving Kace, died a few months ago.

And if I got to redo my life, I would get the chance to save him.

The only downside I saw was that I'd have to wait a little under a year before we met in the previous timeline. But I could always speed our meeting up. I could do whatever I wanted, right?

Can you blame me for saying yes?

Could you, as a human with feelings blame me for agreeing to a god who offered me literally the world (my world, that is) in exchange for the life I thought that I no longer wanted?

"Yes. I'll do it." I stated firmly, my mind made up, my resolve absolute. I stood tall in front of this god in the form of a tortoise, making a decision to literally change my life.

For the better, or so I thought.

But something I hadn't thought of was the fact that six years from today put me at the ripe old age of seventeen.

And do you know what seventeen year olds are?

High schoolers.

And do you know what high schoolers are?

Fucking terrible.

"Contract complete." The god said, and the world began to shift. Slowly, at first, and then suddenly it felt like I was in a vortex, spiraling out of control. I couldn't tell if I was falling down or up. Was I being pulled? My form wasn't even a real shape anymore, I was being tugged in thousands of directions, my body a shapeless blob travelling through space and time.

Until it wasn't anymore. It changed abruptly from this colorful, swirling vortex to something more... Metallic and screechy.

Then it turned black.

When I finally felt the world stop moving, I groaned.

"I'm going to be sick." I muttered, feeling the bile rise up my throat. The hot saliva that came just before you toss your cookies was triggering my gag reflex and I knew the time had come. I opened my eyes to find the nearest trashcan only to be greeted by a woman in scrubs holding one up to my face. I didn't have time to question her or who she was, instead, I puked.

Being caught up to speed almost made me nauseous too with how confusing it was. My head was swirling now instead of my body as I tried to absorb all of this information.

She started off gentle however, by first asking me if I knew what today was. If it were true, and I went back in time six years to the day, wouldn't that make it... "April eighteenth?" I asked hesitantly, and the nurse smiled as she jotted down some notes.

"Good, good. And your name?" She asked, looking back up to me. I was still disoriented from whatever the hell that vortex was, and I wanted some damn answers, not more questions. "Talia. Talia Johnson. Where am I? This looks like a hospital." I asked, wincing from my pounding headache. I moved to sit up and felt something strange attached to my arm. When I glanced down, I saw an IV in my arm.

"This is a hospital. Do you not remember what happened?" The nurse asked with a frown, flipping through her paperwork on her clipboard.

I finally relaxed in a sitting up position, giving her an eye. "No. Did I get drunk and black out?" I asked with a joking tone, but she was apparently Nurse "No Sense of Humor" because her eyes widened and she returned to checking her clipboard more frantically.

"Were you drinking? Your chart says your blood alcohol content was zero..." She muttered as she kept looking as if someone made a mistake.

"It was a joke." I mumbled while rolling my eyes. "A joke. Ha ha?" The nurse flushed when she realized she had missed the joke and stood abruptly.

"I see you're well enough to joke." She sounded irritated, as if she were mad at me because she was too dense to catch on to some lighthearted joking. "I'll go get your doctor."

"Hey, wait!" I shouted, abruptly sitting up. My head pounded again and I flinched, settling back down. "What hospital am I in?" I asked, my chest tight as I anticipated her answer.

"Shiloh Hospital." She answered, not meeting my eyes. Wow, she really holds grudges. But my heart pounded in my chest as I asked another question.

"And who is my doctor?" I could have exploded as I waited for her reply. Even my heart rate monitor was beeping erratically, and I mentally cursed it to be quiet.

She glanced over at my monitor with a look on her face as if she thought maybe I needed the doctor faster than she was moving. And depending on her answer, maybe I did. "Dr. Tuscani." She answered, leaning against the door frame of the room.

"Oh," I mumbled, my thumbs twiddling as I thought about that. "What about Dr. Bishop?" I asked quietly, wanting to hear about him if only for a minute.

"Who?" She asked, and my head snapped up.

"What do you mean, 'who?' Dr. Bishop! He's the—" I abruptly stopped and flushed a deep scarlet. "I'm sorry. I just remembered that he works for a different hospital." The nurse had had enough of my antics and left the room, leaving me with a pit in my stomach. Kace wasn't a doctor yet, I forgot. He didn't get hired here until after we met. So my landing in this hospital that I thought was fate was just a cruel joke or a way to smoothen out the timeline.

Regardless, my mood had soured considerably and I just wanted to go home.

Just as I thought that, a new person entered the room and my eyebrows shot up. "Mom?" I asked, confused as to why she was here. She hovered in the door, her face twisted as if she had something to say but was afraid to.

Ah, I remember now. I was seventeen again, and still lived with my mom. Mom and I didn't get along, even after I moved out. We only spoke through phone calls and texts after I left.

My teenage hormones were running rampant and if we're being honest, I was a little bitch. Sure, she wasn't the best mom on earth, but I blamed her for a lot of things she had no control over.

With this do over, I could even mend our relationship, before it's too late. "Are... Are you going to come in?" I asked her, and she seemed surprised I had. I tried not to feel bad that she seemed so hesitant with her own daughter. I really was the worst.

"How do you feel?" She asked, coming to the chair next to the hospital bed and sitting down. It was stiff between us, but I knew it would eventually be fine. This distance was my fault anyways, all I had to do was make it up to her.

"I have a killer migraine. But I'm fine. What happened to me?" I asked, hoping she would at least tell me how I ended up here.

Her brows knitted as she looked at me. "You don't know?"

"Why does everyone keep saying that? I wouldn't ask if I did." I grumbled, laying back in the bed. Really, my head fucking hurt. "Can they give me some pain killers? This migraine is brutal."

Mom reached out and pressed the call nurse button. While we waited, she gave me some info on what happened to me.

"You were in a wreck." She began, and I opened my eyes to stare at her blankly. "Your car is totaled. You got swept off the road by a diesel. When they told me..." Her voice got strained as if she was about to cry. She didn't finish her sentence.

"I'm fine, really. Aside from this headache," I leaned forward to shout towards the hallway. "I could really use some Tylenol!"

"You'll probably need more than Tylenol, honey." Mom mumbled from the side, pressing the call nurse button again. "You got pretty banged up. They had to put in thirteen stitches." I whipped around to face her, flinching when my head reminded me painfully that it was broken.

"What?" I asked, lifting my hand to lightly feel my head, trying to find them. The pain came from the top front of my head and sure enough, there were stitches from about the center of my scalp down the curve of my head and on the edge of my hairline, barely greeting my forehead. "Holy shit." I whispered, and I saw my mom fidget, as if she considered telling me to watch my mouth but didn't want to upset me. "Sorry." I muttered, still gingerly touching the stitches. "How bad does it look?" I asked, knowing she'd give me a truthful answer.

She hesitated a bit, studying it.

"Well. They had to shave some of your head," she began, getting cut off by my loud gasp of disbelief. "So you look like of mange-y. But we can go to a stylist and get it evened out or we can buy you a wig or extensions..." She listed off several options, but I was more concerned with the now.

"Gimme your phone." I asked, and she obliged willingly. I swiped to open her camera, trying not to frown at the quality. Smart phones had only improved these last few years. I was going to have to suffer through these terrible quality cameras for a while.

Regardless of the quality of the camera, it did it's job.

The front facing camera showed me my head. My sad, shaved noggin. My mange riddled scalp.

"Holy shit." I repeated.