Kiki here, formerly Kiera and Colton, but it's Kiera writing this. It's been 8 whole years since we were reborn into our new life, and we've adapted as well as we can.
We never did learn how to walk. Things like eating and drinking were easy enough to figure out, but the coordination needed to move our legs without messing up and falling over proved too difficult for us. Thus, we've been confined to a wheelchair since age 3, with each increase in size being an event nearly as important as our birthday. It was lucky we were at least able to learn how to coordinate our arms to move the wheels, but we're getting a motorized one soon to make things easier for us.
Getting dressed is a chore in itself, having to rely on feeling the limbs we weren't in control of in order to do the daily task. I usually let Colton choose our outfits, and he tends to point to our dresses more often than not. He's adapted well to living as a girl, although it should be said that slipping into a dress is a lot easier for us than putting on a pair of pants. We can pull our naturally frizzy hair into a ponytail just fine, but Mom has to help us with anything more complicated than that. Earrings especially necessitate us using our 'help' button.
Oh yeah, we don't really talk. Each of us controls half of our mouth and tongue, and while eating and drinking are easy enough, speech has proven a near-impossible task. We communicate more through simplified single-handed sign language and writing down what we want to say. It's left us without many friends, but few we have are the nicest, most supportive kids you could ever imagine. I guess it's lucky our body is ambidextrous, because that gives us an avenue to actually communicate.
In our free time in our bedroom, we spend a lot of time at our desk, taking turns writing in our locked diary. We keep it locked with a password, because if Mom and Dad ever managed to read anything in it, they would see it as the mad ramblings of a person with a split personality. If they found out, we could end up in a mental ward to be studied due to our bizarre circumstance.
Yesterday, we found out that we had a psychiatrist appointment today. Our 'disability' was never diagnosed, and it seems like they want to change that. We know that there isn't a medical reason for our situation, but what are we supposed to write for them? "Hi, I'm actually two people in one body because we made wishes to an evil genie" won't exactly be taken seriously, especially from an 8-year-old. Maybe it'll be decided that we're a set of extremely conjoined twins, the likes of which has never been seen before? Maybe we'll be diagnosed with some extreme psychological disorder that doesn't show up in our brain scans.
Either way, we're not looking forward to this appointment. It's probably going to substantially change our life, and Colton and I can't really think of a way that this ends well for us. However, something Colton wrote last night before bed has stuck with me.
'Maybe they can do something to actually fix us. What if they can do something that gives full control to just one of us, instead of being split down the middle. Our life as Kiki would be a lot easier that way.'
I had responded with a proposal. 'If that's the case, you can have control. You were only 7 when this happened to us, and we're eight now. I've had a full childhood, and you deserve the same, even if it's as a girl. I'll always be here with you.'
With the thought of our conversation in mind, we rolled our wheelchair out of our room to meet Mom.
Turned out, the appointment wasn't with a normal doctor.
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Hey, Kiki here, even though my name used to be Colton. Our new mother had figured out our password, and knew a normal psychiatrist couldn't help us. So, that appointment wasn't with a doctor, but instead a psychic who had experience with victims of the evil genie. She realized right away that we were two different people, and asked Mom and I to talk to her through our writing. We explained what was going on, and Mom told her that I was the one who should be in control. A quick spell later...
I still wish I could talk to her again, but I know this is for the better. Without her controlling the left half of our body, I'm quickly learning how to walk again, even if I'm still in a wheelchair most of the time. Relearning how to talk has been going a bit more slowly, but I'm making a lot of progress.
As for being a girl, I'm perfectly fine with it. After all, I've been Kiki longer than I was Colton, and I find myself choosing more girly outfits over plain shirt-and-pants combos. Caring for my hair has been a learning experience, it's natural texture a lot different than my old short blonde. Being African-American instead of white has been a cool change too, and I'm proud of my new heritage.
Mom and Dad are immensely proud of how far I've come since that psychic appointment, and I'm excited for the future. Turns out, I'm going to be a big sister soon! I was an only child before, so I can't wait to know what having a sibling is like. I'm secretly hoping for a sister, so I can show her the wonders of being a girl that I've discovered.
All in all, as twisted as our wishes became, I think things have turned out for the better. I have a loving family instead of having to live with a father who only ever paid attention to his airheaded girlfriend. My friend group is expanding now that I'm getting better, and I'm hoping to try out gymnastics once I'm on my own two feet. And through it all, I know my former mother is still here with me, seeing out of my eyes and sharing in every experience. I like to think she's proud of me, but I guess there isn't really any way to tell.
This has been Kiki, age 8, signing off.
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