Who I Am

a butterfly effect drabble by D.L. SchizoAuthoress

A hundred years ago, before I wrote Kayleigh out of my life, I asked my then-roommate Thumper if he thought he knew me when I didn't even know me. Since then, I've lived my life five other times and seen five different worlds with versions of me and my friends. I should hope that I know myself by now.

And I know that if I keep this stuff, with it's tangible connection to the past and the double-edged sword of my gift, I will be tempted. I'll be tempted on some lonely night or in a nostalgic moment to use it, to use it and change my life again, paying no mind to the consequences.

I killed Kayleigh at twenty by driving her to suicide. I killed Kayleigh at seven by blowing her up with dynamite. I killed Tommy on campus by beating his head in with a metal bat. I killed Tommy at thirteen in the junkyard by giving that piece of metal to Lenny, who'd been driven mad by deaths I could have prevented. I nearly killed my mother. I got my father killed. And two times, I killed Mrs. Halpern and her baby, Katie.

So many deaths. One hundred and twenty years of death. So I have to stop it. With a holocaust offering of notepaper and film, of plastic and memories.

Even without them, I still know who I am.

More importantly, I know who I could have been...and aren't.