Sleep passed that night, in a small bedroom without much charm, a lamp was kept lit. Inside, a young woman was reading desperately, fighting against her own body that demanded the rest that it so urgently required. The complicated words used in the book gave her a headache, but that didn't mean she was going to stop. Yes, she fell ill. Yes, her conscience might dissipate soon. She had no choice. In the end, medicine was not an easy career, and if she wanted the chance to get that hideous piece of certified paper, she had to battle it.
The so-called prodigy so many years ago, and yes, she was, for her class, for her entire college, she was a gem in the rough, even though her IQ was only slightly above average. The difference with kids her age and she was still being an abysmal pit, however, when dealing with others like her, she made a fool of herself. Their family was not prestigious either, no, they were the kind of people who got excited about a variety show and whose only goal was to serve three meals a day, but at the end of it all, they were happy, because they were together. Nor could she afford to study at a private university, all she could do was beg like crazy for a scholarship. Her only goal was to graduate as a surgeon, and thus, lead a comfortable life for herself and her family,
She knew that the eccentric owner of a chocolate factory would not show up to choose her as his successor, that she would not lose her shoe at a dance to meet a prince, nor would any billionaire uncle they never heard of would die leaving his mansion to them. That was not how life worked.
There are two types of people, those who are lucky and are born with a silver spoon, who get what they want without much effort. And, those who do not have it, whose only option is to fight life to the death to obtain what they so desperately want, with everything to lose. One was 4% of the population, while the other was 96%, you don't have to be a prodigy to know where each one corresponds to. Maybe she was the only one who thought like this
And just as she struggled with her eyelids to close, her entire being went out.
***
Slightly, a little girl's long eyelashes twist over her tiny face. Her delicate body slept peacefully, covered by thin, faded sheets, with an old mattress where it is still allowed to find rest.
Slow, her eyelids went up and down. The padded yellow ceiling above her was unfamiliar, it took her a while to realize. She quickly stood up on the uncomfortable bed, feeling bewildered, moving her large eyes from side to side, and quickly surveyed the place.
It was certainly not known to her. Shelves and wardrobes, at first gave a typical rough view of wood, however, if one looked at it, one could see the excellent carpentry work, even the smallest unpolished gold inlays lost their shine in that place. The walls decorated by a simple wallpaper looked well kept, from the yellowish stains in the corners of the ceiling they could quickly deduce that it used to be white, however, time had done its thing in this room.
After blinking a few more times, she realized that it was too late to go to work and without much haste, she decided to go downstairs and search for answers to her whereabouts. However, when trying to go down, she found a surprise.
"What the...?" She exclaimed, looking at her legs.
The floor was surprisingly far away, and from what she could see, the bed was not that high. For a moment she thought it was a mistake, but jumping down she confirmed it.
The bed was extremely large. With light steps, she approached the mirror in the bedroom. Again, she looked at her legs.
Weren't her steps extremely small?
She believed the room was bigger than it was again, she thought the room was bigger than it was again.
However, when she reached the long mirror, she woke up from the illusion, belatedly falling into the harsh truth.
Without looking away, not for an instant, she directly analyzed the girl in the mirror. The beautiful pair of blue orbs that she could only dream of gave off a magic feeling. The thin brows that frame those eyes were clear, infantile, as were the plump, soft cheeks of her face. The color of wheat shone on her head, enveloping the child's pretty face. For a moment, she was ecstatic by the image in front of her eyes. That color, that appearance was not very common in its place of origin. The girl in the mirror moved, following her movements, it was then that she paid attention to, her hands, with tiny pink-tipped fingers, brought them to her head, showing the bold short blonde hair that barely entered her vision.
She froze on the spot. The breathing was violent and incessant in the midst of her panic, and touching the small face in consternation, with force, bruising it, at last, she understood.
The girl in the mirror was her.
***
Minutes after understanding, a young woman whose appearance matched the girl entered the bedroom full of smiles.
"How did my baby wake up?" She asked lovingly opening the door, however, when she saw the girl kneeling in front of the mirror, with her little face red and wet from tears, she paled: "Therese!" She shouted, hurriedly approaching the little girl who was looking at her in dismay.
'Therese'
Her name was not Therese. Before she could contradict her, she carried her back to bed, depositing her delicately, like a precious treasure.
Without delay, she ran her hands over her, checking to see if she was injured or had a fever. Upon confirming that she was okay, the tension in her face and body decreased considerably.
"My little sun, you worried your mother a lot, " she spoke familiarly, running the back of her hand over the chubby cheek, before smiling splendidly, only this time with some melancholy. "May I know what is the reason for your crying?" Worriedly combed the hair of the little head gently, showing no rush for an answer.
"..." Not a sound dared to come out from between her tiny lips, which were pressed together tightly. I thought it was all a dream. She hoped it was a work of her mind, and that at any moment she would open her eyes and see her brother or mother. Although that wish would only be fulfilled in her dreams.
"Therese, what's wrong?" There was no longer serenity on her face. "Why do you look at your mother like that?" In pain, she stroked her daughter's nose and cheeks, who was watching her in shock.
She wanted to tell this woman that she was not her daughter. That her name was not Therese, she was wrong. But when she felt the vivid tips of her fingers on her cold skin and the despair in her gaze still full of love, she couldn't take it anymore. And there she cried, the sea in her eyes overflowed incessantly. In an attempt to seek support, she threw herself on the woman's chest, which like a mother, hugged her and comforted her, giving her all the affection and protection that she now felt devoid of.
"Did you have a bad dream?" The woman whispered over her head, tangling her fingers in her loose golden mane. She liked holding her baby in her arms, it filled her heart.
"Yes, it's all a bad dream" silently, she nodded shyly, her tears ceasing.
The soft-touch, the unfamiliar smell permeated into the fabric, the moisture on her face. The sensations were so clear, so real, that they had her heart dancing on the tip of the sword.
***
The minutes passed, she continued lying on top of the white blankets, meditating.
The lady had left some time ago with the excuse of making breakfast.
She did not know what was happening, where she was, what had happened to her. Her last memory took her to her room, in front of a study table around dawn. The most logical thing she could think of was that she had passed out from exhaustion and is now sound asleep. Yes, that was a good answer.
However, she could not allow herself to believe in it after the experience. If there was something that dreams did not have, they were sensations. The rough but warm fabric of the blanket stinging between her fingers and the smell of fresh bread on the tip of her nose was extremely real as if it was a mere dream. And guided by her senses, she found the large window wide open, in that direction the smell of food was stronger.
The wood felt cold under her now tiny feet. With those short legs walking felt like an ordeal, I just wanted to get to the window, but it felt like an eternity.
And finally, after a great effort, she managed to climb the stool, making her way behind the fine white fabric that covered the windows, they found a completely different world.
Horse-drawn carts, humble houses lined with wildflowers and wooden roofs, streets of solid paved stone, and hundreds of giggling children outside. Down there, a woman gave homemade bread to her neighbor, who gratefully took away his funny black top hat. A pair of boys in slacks and berets played with a small ball between their feet. A maid opened the windows of her house, laying a blue blanket on a coat rack. A young man was shouting the exclusives, her hands and pockets full of rolls of paper.
"Extra, extra! Farrasen Tax Increase Leaves Slums Behind! Extra, extra! Lady Shepard escapes in the middle of the wedding!"
The children laughed and danced outside without caring about the rest, the women cooked and the smell of delicious food filled the morning air, the elegant men wore suits and ties that you only saw in history books, and the maidens laughed and struggled to look dainty as they took light steps down there.
Nothing was consistent with the present.