Fatal Frequency

I sat on the grass under the shade of a tree, clutching my stomach like I was trying to hold my insides together.

Out on the field, the rest of the class was roasting alive under the brutal sun. They had their chins up and chests out as they marched in time. The drill sergeant demanded perfection in every movement.

In my last life, I was too caught up in the excitement of starting college to realize that the people standing in front of me were the ones who would eventually destroy me.

Right on cue, a voice echoed in my head. It was the inner monologue of the campus belle, Chloe Yates.

"What should I do? Should I tell everyone that Sylvie Blaire is faking it? If she gets caught, the sergeant is gonna punish the whole class just because of her."

I looked up. Chloe was right at the front of the formation, leading the squad. She did not look back, but I did not miss the smirk plastered on her face.

"Ugh, I literally saw her eating ice cream at lunch. She's definitely not on her period. How could she have cramps? The sergeant keeps staring at her. He probably already knows she's a liar."

I looked away just as the drill sergeant's gaze locked on me. He was frowning, and his expression darkened. He ordered the class to rest in place, then spun around and stomped toward me.

It was the same playbook as my past life. Chloe used her little 'gift', which allowed her to broadcast her inner thoughts to others, to plant a seed of doubt. She made the sergeant think I was malingering, which made him snap and punish everyone with 30 laps.

Nobody dared to get mad at the scary drill sergeant, so they turned on me instead. They froze me out, giving me the silent treatment.

Back then, I thought it was my fault. I thought I was weak for asking for a break. I took the abuse in silence.

It was not until I died and came back that I realized Chloe had been pulling the strings the whole time.

However, she made one mistake. She did not know that this time around, I could hear her broadcasts too.

The drill sergeant loomed over me. "Sylvie, 47 students are out here busting their backs, and you're sitting here, faking sick, to get out of it. Have you no shame?"

"Sergeant, I'm not faking it," I whispered. "I really don't feel well."

He scoffed. "I see right through you. I've seen a million kids like you. As soon as boot camp starts, suddenly your leg hurts and your stomach aches."

He turned back to the group, his voice booming. "Today, you're going to learn about unit cohesion! Everyone will run 30 laps! Nobody rests until everybody finishes! That includes you, Sylvie! Get back in formation, now!"

The class glared at me with pure hatred.

"Thanks a lot, you jinx! You get to sit around while we get punished because of you!"

"Cramps, you say? You should just drop dead so we won't have to deal with this!"

I did not say a word. I walked back to the formation. While pretending to fix my uniform, I slipped a bobby pin out of my hair and palmed it.

As we started running, I jammed the sharp end of the pin into my inner thigh. I dragged it hard against the skin. A searing, white-hot pain shot through me, followed by the warm sensation of liquid sliding down my leg.

I slowed down. The drill sergeant was on me in a second, running alongside me.

"You see that? They're suffering because of your laziness. Do you feel guilty yet?"

I bit my lip so hard that I tasted iron. My hand kept working, the pin digging deeper into the wound.

"Sylvie, are you ready to admit you're wrong?"

I was about to answer when the girl running next to me screamed.

"Oh my god! Sylvie... She's bleeding! Look at the ground!"

The sergeant sneered. "Still trying to act?"

Then he looked down. He saw the trail of red behind me. He saw my pants soaked through, dark crimson dripping onto the track.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the color drain from his face. I closed my eyes and let gravity take over as the darkness swallowed me whole.