Reborn

Chapter 18
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Jack bounced up and down excitedly in front of the TV, waving his arms around. The music was loud and invigorating, it felt good to move his body whilst he listened to it.

“Yay go on Jack, you’re such a good dancer.” Emma gushed.

Wait, why am I dancing? Jack thought.

He was almost naked, except for a diaper and he was jumping around whilst a nursery rhyme played on the television. He could remember starting to dance and he could remember enjoying it, but he couldn’t remember why he had decided to dance to the song in the first place.

He stopped dancing and stood motionless whilst he tried to retrace his steps mentally. He tried to remember what he had been thinking immediately prior to that moment. He could recall that whilst he had been dancing he had been thinking “mommy duck goes quack quack quack”, which were the lyrics of the song that he had been dancing to. Then he tried to remember what he had been thinking before that. He could remember thinking “mommy, look, see” when he had pointed at the television. Before that he had been playing with his toy cars, but when he tried to recall what he had been thinking at the time he could only remember imaginary car noises.

“Why have you stopped dancing Jack?” Emma asked.

Jack was confused. He tried to remember the last time that he had thought about being an adult, but he couldn’t recall thinking about his previous life at all since he had awoken that morning.

He could recall the events of the entire day, but when he tried to remember what he had been thinking about there was an empty void. When he paid close attention to his own thoughts, he understood that they were comprised of words. The words were then joined together to create meaning and he could use them to understand his own feelings.

Instead of dancing, he should have been thinking about escaping. But it hadn’t even occurred to him because in that moment he hadn’t understood what the word ‘escape’ meant. He had simply heard the music playing and then he had been instinctively drawn towards it.

Without an internal monologue, he hadn’t had the words to articulate his own thoughts, he had been living on impulse. Now his internal monologue had returned, but for how long, he didn’t know.

“Jack, what’s wrong?” Emma queried.

He was about to speak when he noticed that there was something in his mouth, it felt like soft plastic on his tongue. He reached for his mouth and then pulled the object out, it was a pacifier. A string of saliva still connected the nipple to his lips.

“Are you thinking about being a grown up again?” she quizzed.

Jack shook his head and then dropped the pacifier on the floor.

“Jack you were doing so well,” she beamed, “it’s okay honey it’ll pass, don’t worry,” she continued.

He was embarrassed by his earlier behavior. He understood that he hadn’t been pretending to enjoy the children’s TV shows and the nursery rhymes, he had genuinely enjoyed them. Even worse than that, he thought that his mind might slip away again at any moment.

“Please...no...no.” Jack stammered.

“Jack, come give mommy a cuddle,” she instructed, “you’ll feel better soon,” she promised.

Jack stood still, he was paralyzed with fear. As Emma walked towards him, his instincts were telling him to flee, but he couldn’t move. Emma lifted him into her arms and carried him towards the couch.

“It’s okay, you’ll feel better after a cuddle,” she said in a soothing voice.

She sat down on the couch and placed Jack on her lap, facing away from her. Then she wrapped one of her arms around his waist and with her free hand she caressed his hair. Jack didn’t resist, he couldn’t think of any way of escaping and even if he could, he knew that his time was running out.

“You were having so much fun when you were dancing to the music? It felt good didn’t it?” Emma asked.

He had to admit, it had felt good. When he was dancing he had felt no shame or worry, he had been reveling in the moment without a care in the world.

“Yes.” Jack replied meekly.

“And when you started thinking about being a grown up, did that make you feel good?” she queried.

It hadn’t, he knew that it had made him feel miserable, even if he desperately yearned for his old life.

“No,” he whispered.

“Why doesn’t it make you feel good?” she asked, “I think it’s because you can’t be a grown up, you’re a little boy and you can’t change that can you?” she suggested.

Jack felt a sharp pang of anger.

“But I want to be grown up!” he snapped.

“Is there any way that you can make yourself into a grown up?” she queried.

He knew that he was trapped in a child’s body and that Emma was unwilling to help him. His determination to defy her was abruptly halted by the realization that it was pointless, there was no way that he could return to his previous life.

“No,” he replied.

“Then why do you want to think about being a grown up when it makes you sad? Don’t you want to be happy like you were this morning?” Emma asked.

He instinctively recoiled at the idea but he knew that it made sense. He realized that if he had no way of escaping his predicament then it was pointless to worry about it, the end result would still be the same. When he had attempted to resist his mental decline it hadn’t gotten him anywhere, the only time he had felt happiness was when he had given up the fight completely.

He contemplated his old life and all of the things that he would lose, but his memories were fading quickly. He could no longer remember what his parents looked like, he just knew that they existed. He could recall the names of old friends and family members, but not the times that they had spent together. His past was becoming increasingly abstract and hard to pin down. He could no longer read and even if he could, he wouldn’t remember the meaning of the words he was reading. It was becoming apparent to him that he had already lost the thing that he was fighting to preserve.

He wondered whether being a baby would be such a bad thing after all. He had been desperately clinging onto his old life, but if he allowed himself to let go of it he wouldn’t die, he’d be reborn.

It won’t hurt...it won’t hurt, he thought.

In that moment he decided that he had lost the fight and that it needed to end quickly in order to spare him from further anguish.

“I give up.” Jack mumbled.

“You mean you want to stop thinking about being a grown up?” she inquired.

“Yeah,” he murmured.

“Then you just need to stop thinking about big words. Big words are bad and they will make you feel bad,” she asserted.

“Can’t stop,” he protested.

“Well when you catch yourself thinking about big words, or about being a grown up, stop yourself and think about something else instead. You can watch TV, sing a song or play with your toys. Then one day you won’t even need to stop yourself, you’ll just forget,” she explained.

Jack tried to stop thinking about being a grown up, but it was hard. Every time he made a conscious effort to stop thinking about it his mind led him back to the same place. He sat quietly on Emma’s lap for some time as his mind went round in circles.

“Why don’t you show mommy your dancing again? I’ll put some more songs on?” Emma suggested.

Without saying a word he climbed down out of Emma’s lap and walked back towards the TV, coming to a stop in the place where he had been dancing before. He felt uneasy, but he knew that it had to be done.

Emma pushed a button on the remote control and another nursery rhyme started to play.

“Just focus on the songs Jack, try not to think,” she instructed.

He stood still and tried to focus on the lyrics of the songs, repeating them in his head. Whenever he caught himself thinking about being a grown up he tried to stop and redirect his attention back to the music. The noise was a welcome distraction and it stopped his mind from wandering.

Soon his train of thought became disjointed and he found it difficult to think. He was no longer sure why he was focusing on the music, he just knew that he needed to pay attention to it.

Wheels on the bus go round and round...round and round. Mommy songs...round and round...Mommy look...round and round...bus go round...Mommy dance.