Chapter 2

For a second, I couldn't breathe. I just stood there, clutching the damp jersey, my knuckles white.

The hum of the dryer vibrated through the floor, up my legs, and into my skull. It sounded like a growl. Low, deep, and hungry.

My mind flashed back to the desert.

Not just a memory, but a feeling. I could feel the grit of the sand under my fingernails. I could feel the shocking, tearing pain in my arm.

I remembered the animal's hot, foul breath on my face.

But most of all, I remembered my mother's eyes.

There was no panic in them. No fear. Just annoyance, and then a flicker of opportunity. When she shoved me, it wasn't a panicked reaction. It was a decision.

She was getting rid of a problem.

The click of the door lock was the loudest sound I had ever heard. It was the sound of my life ending. It was the sound of their relief.

They drove away. They didn't even look back.

I squeezed my eyes shut, right there in the laundry room. The phantom pain in my arm was so real I almost cried out. I forced myself to take a breath. Then another.

When I opened my eyes, the terror was gone.

Replaced by something cold and hard and heavy.

It settled deep in my chest, a block of ice.

I looked at the jersey in my hand. Kevin's jersey. The beginning of it all.

In my first life, I had washed it. I had meekly accepted the slap. I had gotten in the car. I had died for them.

A slow smile spread across my face. It felt foreign, like it belonged to someone else.

Not this time.

This time, they would be the ones to pay.

I dropped the jersey on the floor and walked out of the laundry room, leaving it in a muddy heap.