Chapter 2: Back Before the Betrayal

When I opened my eyes again, I was back before the SATs.

The air smelled of dew and cut grass, the sounds of the farm waking up all around me. I stared at my own hands—smaller, unscarred. Time had rewound, giving me one more shot. Was this really happening?

This time, I didn’t hesitate—I threw the lucky pendant my brother gave me straight into the pigsty.

I didn’t even look back. The muddy slop splashed as the pendant disappeared among the squealing piglets. Let him swap with a pig if he was so desperate. Good luck with that.

If you want to swap lives, go swap with a pig.

The thought made me snort, bitterly amused for a split second. I watched the pigs rooting around, oblivious, and wondered if they’d make better siblings than the ones I had. Maybe they would.

At the moment of rebirth, resentment, anger, and heartbreak crashed over me.

The memories were raw, scraping at my insides like barbed wire. I could taste the betrayal, thick as bile. My hands shook, and my heart pounded like it wanted out of my chest. How could I ever trust again?

Tears welled up in my eyes. My fists clenched so tightly my nails dug into my palms.

I bit my lip until I tasted blood. I refused to let the tears fall. I’d wasted enough emotion on these people. No more. Not a single tear left for them.

I never imagined people could wear such convincing masks. How did I miss it? Was I really that naive?

I replayed every gentle word, every reassuring pat on the head, every time Mom tucked me in at night. All of it was a lie. I felt like a fool for ever believing it. How could I have been so blind?

I used to tell myself it didn’t matter that I was adopted. I’d once thought I had a loving home, and I always told myself it didn’t matter that I was adopted.

I used to tell myself that blood didn’t matter, that love was what made a family. But now, that idea felt like a cruel joke. Love? What a lie.

But in the end…

I stared at the sunrise, feeling the emptiness. I really was alone. Always had been.

I let out a cold laugh, the bitterness nearly suffocating, like a cinder block on my chest. It echoed in the morning quiet, sounding nothing like me.

The sound startled a nearby hen, which fluttered off the porch with an indignant squawk. I pressed a fist to my chest, trying to breathe through the ache. Why did it still hurt so much?

In my previous life, right before I died, he’d admitted that the pendant was the medium he’d used to swap bodies with me.

His smug face flashed in my mind—the way he’d dangled the pendant in front of me like a prize. I clenched my jaw, vowing never to fall for his tricks again. Never.

Want to swap lives? This time, swap with the piglets.

Let him try his luck with the hogs. Maybe they’d appreciate his brand of family. Maybe he’d finally fit in somewhere.