how do i get used to being you

"Ilyas?" The words easily fall from my lips. My eyes flutter open, arms stretching out to reach around an empty bedside.

This is getting overrated, Elise.

Grunting and sighing, I sit up in the bed. It's instinctively---annoyingly automatic. First, you call him, then you search for him like he was going to disappear. I don't get it. Or maybe I do get it, you loved him. You still do. You must've been a truly clingy person. I can't imagine what you'd do if you had ever experienced heartbreak.

I wouldn't imagine you'd take well at all.

But, did you know?

It's absolutely strange Elise---Or Eliska? I like to think you'd preferred Elise since in the past few days I've been in your body, I've never heard anyone call you Eliska. It's a strange name, Eliska. Who gave you that name? If I remember correctly, he said your parents gave you that name. Eliska sounds Russian. But I don't think you're Russian, because there's no such thing as Russia here. Wait. I'm off on a tangent. That's sort of my thing, I overthink, Elise. Even in a different person's body, I've managed to keep these traits I've never even liked in my own body.

But that's not the point, Elise.

The point is, I think it's strange how much we have in common. Don't me wrong, I know I'm not you, and you're not me. I'm not your reincarnation, and neither are you. I have a theory, Elise. When the shock wore off, and reality set in, I had enough time to think. And, I think, I know what happened to us.

One day, I closed my eyes and went to sleep. Next thing when I wake, I'm in excruciating pain, as if I was being pushed into you, Elise, pushed into your body. I was in perfect health before this, never a cold, never sneeze. Plus, I don't think is this some type of Karma. I'm not a bad person, nor a religious person. But I think, this type of situation calls for every plausible explanation I can come up with. If souls exist, then my soul was pushed into your body, and if you didn't die in the process, then perhaps you're still in here. Are you? Are you still here with me?

Elise?

Maybe you're not. And, if you're not, Elise, then are you in my body? Are you living my life? Are you trying to get used to being me, like am for you?

"Miss?" I've learned this young maid who speaks slow and moves anxiously to please me, is Rebecca. Apparently, she's been my personal maid ever since I've come here.

"Would you like to have your morning bath?" Rebecca asks, fiddling with her apron. And also apparently, I've learned the staff, especially Rebecca, doesn't take to well to me trying to reject their help. So, I've learned to nod and say yes, for fear to not make one of these maids, especially Rebecca have a mental breakdown.

"Yes, would you?" I stand from my bed, sprouting my arms upwards stretching like a cat. I've never had a maid. In this world, I assume, maids and servants are common. I wouldn't be shocked if slavery is still an institution here, although I truly hope not. If there is, maybe it's not discriminatory towards the skin, I've seen an array of peoples here in the staff.

There it is again. A tangent.

I just can't help to think, I know so little about this world. Correction, your world, Elise.

"What dress would you'd like to wear today, Miss?" Rebecca speaks gradually in increments and her hands fiddle with the collar of her uniform. I part my lips. Well.

"Oh," I hold my tongue, I would kill for a pair of jeans, "I'm thinking something vermillion and a gown." Well, I do know some things about this world.

The body I'm in is you, Eliska.

You have an awfully doting husband and you live in this monstrous recluse sized manor.

I'm definitely not in the 21st century.

"Will this do, Miss?" Rebecca sets out a lustrous intense aquamarine green gown embroidered---by hand certainly, with silver flowers.

"Yes, that will do Rebecca," I say giving her a light smile, "and don't forget, you can call me Elise. I'd prefer that, than Miss." Rebecca's face flushes. A class gap must still be prominent here, either that, or you were never on friendly enough terms with the staff. I wonder why? They don't say it, but the staff here loves your presence. But your husband? Ilyas? There's a way they stare at him. It's a way I can't place. But, I know, it's stronger than hate.

"I-I shall go prepare the bathwater." Rebecca scurries to the bathing room adjacent to the bedroom.

Pacing to the bed's side, I lift the fabric of the gown. It's almost too soft and plush to be real. Every outfit in your wardrobe, Elise is elaborate extravagant pieces made of the finest materials. The only issue there are only frilly fluffy dresses, gown, and more dresses in your closet. There are no in-betweens. Or space to breathe. There's a corset embedded in nearly every dress. The only exception is gowns. They're light fit, and the only outfit I can breathe in.

"The bathwater is ready, Mis--," Rebecca is quick to correct herself, "E-Elise." She stammers.

"Thank you, Rebecca." She nods at my response following me as I pace to the bathtub. I try not to gawk, standing in the bathing room. I still can't ignore the fact that this is an actual bathing room. The room spans out in front of me with its polished pearl floors, sparkling clean walls with mirrors on every side, and golden wide bathtub. Next to it, an assortment of what I believe are bath salts, lotions, and ointments. You really live a pampered life, Elise.

"Pardon me, Miss--I mean, Elise." Rebecca lifts up my gown to undress me.

"Um," I halt her my cheeks blushing, "I've got it." I don't think I could ever get used to this. They bathe me, dress me, and hell they would definitely spoon feed me if I asked. I slip off my nightgown, in mid-process to take off my bloomer undergarments when I hear a familiar voice calling me.

"Elise?" I can hear his footsteps growing louder and briskly. "Elise?" Oh god. My blood runs cold.

"W-wait!" I spit out the words, my hands fumble to pull up my gown. "Hold on one moment, Ilyas!" The fabric gets caught between my legs.

"Rebecca!" I turn a desperate eye to her. "Help me!" Rebecca looks completely puzzled but loses no time to zip to my side. For a moment her nervous eyes meet mines, as she tugs my gown down.

"No don't take it off!" I snap at her. "On. Help me put it on." I would die from embarrassment if he saw me. In my own body, I haven't even as much had a relationship. I know I shouldn't be, and this isn't my body, but it is my mind in here. He's your husband, Elise. Not mines.

What do you want me to even do, Elise?

"Elise." I whip around to face him, catching my breath upon being dressed.

"Ye-yes?" I gulp, forcing a smile.

"I'm sorry if I came in at the wrong time," he steps closer to me, "but there's something I have to give you." He grins like a child in the candy store. He uncovers a glass box in his hands. He takes it out, revealing a glimmering bracelet with a large pink diamond hanging from it.

"I wanted to celebrate your recovery," He motions for me to hold it, "I know it's not much, but I hope you like. The stone is cut directly from the Persian Isles." It weighs heavy in my hands. It's beyond much. It's absolutely stunning. I've never seen jewels like it.

Wait. Did I hear that correctly?

"Directly from the Persian Isles?" I glance at him, gaping.

"Yes, do you not like it?" His face looks ghastly.

"No, I do. I really do. It's just," my eyes fall down, he wouldn't understand, "it's nothing." So, I guess I can check that off my list for proof this is definitely not the 21st century.

"I'm really glad you like it." His face beams at me, his grin ready jump off his face.

"Thank you." My fingers lock the bracelet in my fist.

"I see you're still getting ready. Let me get going." He presses his lips down to conceal his smile.

"Yes." My head swiftly bobs. Please do. This body is already blushing beyond my control.

"There's just one thing that bothers me," Ilyas lightly tugs at the hem of my gown, "It's backward you know." I know I must be redder than a tomato. This body is too jumpy at his touch.

"Oh?" I fumble back a step, chuckling skittishly. "Really?" His eyebrows furrow as the look of confusion at my retreat.

"Yes," his eyes scan me, "I don't remember you sleeping with it like that."

"Oh, really?" I can only pull my eyes away from his analytical stare.

"Never mind," he shrugs it off at my reluctance, "I'll be in the study if you need me." He takes one foot backward, but I can see it. The hurt confused look on his face I could have seen from almost a mile away. I'm sorry. I can't help it. I know you're her husband. But for me? You're a stranger to me.

"Miss, your bath water is getting cold," Rebecca says. I sigh, ignoring my thoughts.

"One moment, Rebecca, let me put away this bracelet. I don't want to get it wet."

"Miss, allow me--." Rebecca's hands reach out to me.

"No," I press her hands away, "I've got it." I step out of the bathing room. "And don't forget, call me Elise!" I remark as I slipped into the bedroom. Standing in front of the vanity desk, my fingers jerk the drawer, but it doesn't budge. Another yank and it only remains steadfast.

"Oh come on," I groan yanking it once more. "Don't be stuck," I mumble to myself.

"Just open!" I wrestle with the drawer my thumb fumbling over the screw. Weird. It almost feels like a button.

"Click!" The drawer eases open, revealing the only a light lilac floral book. Is this a diary?

Is this yours, Elise?

Why would you hide it?

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