Chapter #7Uncharted familiarity by: Mr.Domino  You shut the door behind you and kick your low-heeled walking shoes off to the side like you have always never done. The foyer is as wide open as you remember it never being, leading to the long living room that had the giant couch that you always had never loved to lounge on during rainy days. You feel the comforting coolness of the aged hard wood floor beneath your dainty feet and you walk through the columned entryway the same way you have never always walked through it and take a seat on the arm of the couch.
There, on the other side of the couch, sunk so low that you couldn't see from the doorway, was your mother. Your eyes go wide in shocked non-surprise at her taut, sleeping face, a face that, had you not always remembered never seeing through your life, you would have barely recognized. On the low table in front of her snoozing form was a bottle of wine, her favorite (you take little relief in the fact that there has been one constant across time) and a open container of what look to be painkillers that you once remember never going to the hospital for eating because you thought they were candy.
More memories flood your mind the more you look around the living room. It was always you, mom and the dad that had replaced your other dad. And you remember that you had never had the little brother that you had always never gone to ballgames with when your not-dad had taken you. No, instead you remember mom being very clingy and always stressed whenever your dad had come home just a few minutes late, and had never always been the contented slightly plump woman that only casually worked out. Instead you remember the private gym that your mother had in the expansive basement, taking up the space that girl whose name you couldn't remember now had always said was where her brothers had had their bedrooms.
From here it looked like your mom wasn't very happy, but then you always remember her always being sad and never spending time with you and always being slightly mean because she thought you were prettier than she was. That you were always had been a daddy's girl and always liked it when he was home because he made you laugh and because mom was always too busy giving him everything he wanted instead of being, well, a bitch.
In the flood of new memories you try to center yourself because, like, all this time travel stuff was giving you a total headache. You focused on all that kinda geeky stuff that you never let anyone know that you liked and tried to work out the details of what might have happened. You knew you could always wake mom up, but from the experience that you'd never always had, she'd be more likely to bite your head off and retreat to her bedroom than spill out a long...what was the word? You shake your fist silently in the air instead of snapping your fingers when you'd always never been stumped. Narrative! That was it!
You felt proud of yourself that you could remember the proper word.
So if in your timeline your mother had married that...one girl's old father than that meant that that girl and her brothers had never existed, which meant that instead of being born a boy and instead of having never been born in 1991 you had always been born in 1997. And that because of the advice that you had given your mom as a child she had obviously gone overboard and latched onto the first man that had ever shown an interest in her which was obviously the man who had never always been your loving daddy. Which meant that you had never grown up as the older brother but the single teenage daughter of a wealthy family.
Who was the girl that got erased again? You furrowed your brow in thought but the name just never came to you. In fact you couldn't remember what she had never looked like. But you did remember never having sex with her a week ago during Senior year. The thought of never having liked girls sent a shiver of disgust down your spine, you were totally into boys but had never gone all the way. Right now you were 'between boyfriends' which was girlcode that you had never always knew stood for 'running out of fish in the sea'.
Which you had partially blamed on your mom because she would always scare off boys even more than your daddy would.
As quietly as you could, you lifted yourself off the arm of the couch and made your way into the fancy kitchen that you never always remembered having. You gently pull open the fridge door and grab a bottle of water and quietly go upstairs, your small feet following the worn pattern in the carpet that had never not burnt up in a fire that had never happened. You find your door, as always marked with your favorite stickers of cute things that you have never always liked and enter your bedroom.  | Members who added to this interactive story also contributed to these: Members who added to this interactive story also contributed to these: |
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