[ WP ] Someone who has lost their way in life meets themselves at nine years old .

Inside the grocery store, I feel like shit. I can feel the headache come on stronger than ever, the one that comes when I do n't have a drink in more than a few hours. As I reach the shelf with vodka, I hear a voice that sends a shiver down my spine. `` Kitten, come on.'' I turn and see my mother, except she is much younger. My eyes begin to tear up as the woman stares beyond me, and I realize she is n't speaking to me. But she only called me Kitten, I do n't understand. Suddenly I feel something run beside me. I look down and see me, my own face, but I am much younger. They walk away, and I lean back against the shelf. As I collect myself, I grab the bottle of vodka from the shelf and make my way to the counter. I begin to question if this is another withdrawal symptoms, or if all these years of substance abuse has finally gotten to me. As I walk out of the store, I can see them running to the car. The same car my mother owned, the same scratch on the passenger door from when my dad hit the mailbox with the car the day my mother left him. What have I become? I live in a rundown house and I pay for my rent with money I earn by stealing and scamming people. I am my own mother. I shake my head, and my eyes fix in something on the ground; it's my doll, the 1991 Holiday Barbie. I begged my mother for that doll, and she sat up crying when I told her I would hate her forever if she didnt buy me it. I knew it was expensive, but I did n't know what money was, and I did n't understand why we had to live in the car in the middle of winter, just before school returned from winter break, and everyone asked me why my mother's car was filled with clothing and junk, and why I did n't throw slumber parties at my house. I lost that doll many years ago, shortly after I got it. I think about all this, and wonder if by changing the life of this younger me, I could change my future. There was only one way to find out. I know where my mother used to park the car for the night, a spit where the police would n't find us and weird people could n't bother us. It was only a few miles from here, and yes, it is a longshot. But I have a plan...
