Chapter 2

As I sat in the car on the ride home, things that have been at the back of my mind due to pain, denial, or what ever other excuses I've given myself, started to come to the surface. Fucking 1968, forty years in the past, six before I was even born, I still can hardly believe it. What will I do with my knowledge, how will it help shape my future. One thing is for sure, death has given me a second chance, and fulfilled my dark desire to end my life. This time I will not screw it up. This time I will make something of myself. For the first time in my life someone believes in me, even if that someone is death.

The whole Annabelle thing is throwing me for a loop as well. I have a whole new set of emotions, and hormones that I have never experienced until now. I find myself crying at the stupidest of things. Like when my Mom brought me my favorite dish hoping that I would remember, and the pain I caused when I didn't. Why did I cry? Hell if I know, I haven't cried since my dog died when I was six and my father beat me for being a baby, hell of a role model Dad was. Trust me I'm not trying to have a pity party, but its just weird beyond belief.

After about a week, I got my first good look at my self. I'm pleased to say death at least didn't put me in the body of beast. I would even venture to say I'm better looking as Annabelle than as my old self. My mother must be of Irish descent, because just like her, I have the deep red hair and emerald eyes. Some freckles adorn my skin, not surprisingly, and I remember playing connect the dots with hot little thing from my past, and thought I may like to be on the receiving end of that someday. I'm of medium height for a girl, and have a willowy build. Not much up top, but I always thought more than a handful was a waste.

Some things have definitely not changed, though. I'm still a guy at heart, yes, I may have some new emotions to go along with me, but I'm still me. That is a good thing, and a bad thing. I don't know how truly liberated the 60's were, since I still wasn't borne, but I was pretty sure a lesbian in high school would fly like a brick. Hell that didn't really fly when I went through the first time in the 90's. I figured I would have to be careful to keep that under wraps the best I could. My "parents" would definitely freak, I have found out they are Bible thumpers.

Speaking of my parents, they seem like good eggs, not that I think I'll take much in the way of raising from them, or any new morals. Dad is an accountant, a successful one, but I'm sure you have met an accountant in your life. They're not exactly the life of the party. Mom is a stay at home Mom, straight out of bad T.V., but she means well.

I found out we live in a suburb of Seattle, Issaquah, WA, wherever the hell that is. I notice one thing this place is beyond green. I thought I had been to a forest before. I was wrong. This place looks like some lost wilderness, pine trees and rolling hills for as far as I can see. I see snow capped mountains in the distance. My parents inform me they are the Cascades. I never believed in Sasquatch before, but now I'm not so sure. Who the hell knows what's lurking in there. Our place is a little off the beaten path. Correction, a lot off the beaten path, we are actually taking a dirt road up to the house, and I have only seen one or two on this road. Mom says the closest neighbor is about two miles, and school is about fifteen miles away in "downtown".

Home is a decent sized rambler, with a nice lawn and a two car garage. I can tell that Mom keeps a tight ship. The house looks field day clean (field day is the inspection we had in the Corps after cleaning our living areas). I take the dime tour and get shown to my room. Welcome to pink girl hell. Seriously, how many pillows and stuffed animals can one person fit onto their bed. I just may go into sugar shock, from the frilly window things to the white and pink vanity. Even the damn walls are pink with white trim. I'm shocked the carpet isn't pink, for Christ's sake.

My wardrobe has a lot to be desired, as well. Evidently Annabelle had not caught on to the mini skirt obsession, or Mom made her dress like a nun. I may be new at being a girl, but I knew these must go. I mean, they may keep me safe from boys, but I would eventually like to attract some girls, and no one could find this crap attractive. Maybe Mom thought I was stacked like some bunny model, cause those were some serious brassieres, I can't in good faith call them bras, but, hey, they matched the granny panties perfectly. I guess I shouldn't have been surprised by the wardrobe, considering the dress with buttons up to my neck and the hideous pattern I wore home.

I hear the doorbell ring and start to head out.

"Oh there you are dear; Cindy is in the living room waiting for you. I do hope it brings something back."