Chapter two

“Amara! What the fuck are you screaming for? Get up!”

A heavy hand shoved my shoulder, violently ripping me out of the suffocating darkness.

I gasped, sitting bolt upright in bed, my lungs heaving as if I had just surfaced from underwater. Hot air scraped against my throat. My hands instantly flew down to my stomach, digging my fingernails into my shirt, frantically searching for the blood, the gaping hole in my womb, the sticky rain from that godforsaken alleyway.

“Where is it? Where’s the blood? Ethan.. he killed it he kicked me !” I shrieked, my voice cracking in pure, unadulterated panic. My eyes darted around the room, blinded by scalding tears. “Somebody help me! Please! Call an ambulance!”

“Amara, shut the hell up! What the fuck are you babbling about?”

The voice was, loud, and exasperated.

I froze. My chest rose and fell in ragged hitches as my eyes finally adjusted to the morning light pouring through a pair of faded floral curtains.

Standing beside my bed, holding a laundry basket with an annoyed frown on her face, was my mother.

She looked... young. Her hair wasn't streaked with gray yet. Her eyes weren't worn down by years of double shifts and stress. She was alive. She was standing right in front of me.

“Mom...?” I choked out, my voice trembling so hard my teeth clattered. “You’re... you’re here?”

“Where else would I be? In a circus?” Mom rolled her eyes, slamming the laundry basket onto the foot of my bed. “You’re having a nightmare, sweetie, but you need to wake the hell up right now. You’re going to be late for school! Look at you, you’re sweating like a pig. Get off your ass and get dressed!”

She turned and marched out of the bedroom, letting the door slam shut behind her.

I sat there, motionless, the sound of the shutting door ringing in my ears like a gunshot.

School? Late for school?

I looked down at my hands. They weren't slick with cold rain or stained dark red with the life I had bled out onto the pavement. My skin was smooth. My fingers were soft.

I threw off the heavy blanket and practically scrambled out of bed, my knees weak and buckling under my weight. I stumbled across the wooden floor and slammed my hands onto the vanity table, staring into the mirror.

A sob caught in my throat.

The girl looking back at me wasn't a twenty-seven-year-old broken woman dying in the gutter.

She had soft, round cheeks, wide brown eyes filled with naive innocence, and heavy shoulders framed by a oversized pink pajama shirt. She was seventeen. She was plus-size, awkward, and carrying the weight of a world that hadn't learned how to love her yet.

“No way...” I whispered, touching my face with trembling fingertips. Tears spilled over my eyelashes, burning my cheeks. “No fucking way...”

I buried my face in my hands and let out a choked, ragged laugh that turned into a bitter sob.

The pain in my stomach was gone. The cold metal of the clinic door was gone. The agonizing sensation of my heart slowing down to its final beat in the dark it was all gone.

I was seventeen again.

I had gone back ten damn years into the past.

BZZZZ. BZZZZ.

The sudden, aggressive vibration of my phone on the nightstand made my entire body jump. The sound vibrated through the quiet room, cutting through my shock like a knife.

I slowly turned around, staring at the small, outdated smartphone buzzing against the wooden desk.

My feet felt like lead as I walked toward it. My heart hammered against my ribs, each thud loud enough to echo in my ears. I picked up the phone and pressed the screen.

The caller ID lit up with a small heart emoji next to a name that instantly made all the air leave my lungs.

ETHAN

My hand shook so violently I almost dropped the device onto the floor.

His name burned on the screen like an open flame. In an instant, the memory hit me like a physical blow. his cold, disgust-filled eyes; his hand twisting violently into my hair; his heavy designer shoe kicking my bleeding body onto the wet asphalt.

“Now die in the gutter like the worthless dog you are.”

A wave of pure, metallic nausea rose in my throat. I squeezed my eyes shut, my blood running cold.

“You bastard,” I whispered through clenched teeth, my knuckles turning white as I gripped the phone. “You absolute fucking monster.”

The call went to voicemail.

A second later, the screen lit up again with a text notification.

From: Ethan

“Baby, make sure you meet me behind the bleachers after school today. I have something really important to tell you. Don’t be late. ❤️”

I stared at the message, the words blurring through the haze of my tears.

I remembered this day. I remembered every single goddamn second of it.

In my first life, this was the day Ethan asked me to be his girlfriend. He had taken my hand behind the bleachers, looked into my eyes with that fake, sweet smile, and told me I was the most special girl he had ever met. He told me he didn't care what anyone else said about my weight he said he loved me for who I was.

And like a naive, desperate fool, I had cried tears of joy. I had thought he was my knight in shining armor. I had handed him my heart, my money, my self-respect, and ten years of my life on a silver platter.

I hadn't realized that behind those bleachers, he was already laying the trap. He didn't want a girlfriend; he wanted a gullible, eager puppy who would do his homework, write his essays, pay for his lunches, and boost his ego whenever he felt small.

I raised my thumb over the keyboard. My fingers flew across the screen, typing out a fiery response:

“Go to hell, you sick fuck. Leave me alone.”

My thumb hovered over the send button.

I stopped.

The wind whistled outside my window. I looked down at the message, my heart pounding a fierce, steady rhythm in my chest.

No.

I swallowed hard, wiping the tears from my eyes with the back of my hand.

If I cursed him out now, if I lashed out like a hurt animal, he would know something was wrong. He would play the victim. He would try to manipulate me, or worse, he would just move on to his next target while I stayed trapped in my anger.

Cursing him wasn't enough. Making him leave me alone wasn't enough.

He had stripped me of my dignity, stolen my baby, and left me to bleed out like trash in a storm. A simple rejection was a mercy he didn't deserve.

Slowly, deliberately, I hit the backspace button, erasing every single word.

I took a deep, steadying breath, feeling the cold air fill my lungs. The frantic terror in my chest was beginning to settle, replaced by a quiet, lethal stillness.

I typed out three simple words instead:

“I’ll be there.”

I hit send.

I set the phone down on the desk and walked back over to the mirror. I looked at the seventeen-year-old girl staring back at me. She was still chubby, her hair was a mess, and her clothes were plain but the desperate, longing look in her eyes was completely gone.

I reached out and placed my hand against the cold glass.

“No more crying over him,” I whispered to my reflection, my voice dropping low. “No more begging for his scraps.”

I straightened my posture, lifting my chin high.

“Enjoy your last day of having power over me, Ethan. Because starting today... I’m going to ruin you.”