Chapter 2: A Second Chance and a Ghost

My feet slapped the cracked pavement as I ran, the heat rising up in waves. I didn’t stop until I rounded the corner, heart pounding with a strange mix of fear and freedom. I was really here. This was real. The world felt sharper, more real. The past and present tangled together in every breath.

At the old Maple Avenue intersection, the pavement was burning hot in the summer sun. Dazzling white sunlight poured down. I walked the street in cracked plastic sandals, reaching out to feel the heat—the undeniable reality of my rebirth.

The soles of my feet stung, but I didn’t care. The air was thick with the smell of cut grass, fried food from the diner down the block, and the faint tang of chlorine from someone’s backyard pool. I stretched my arms wide, letting the sun bake away the old sadness. For the first time in forever, the world felt full of possibility.

I took a deep breath.

Even the air, scented with sun-dried laundry detergent, was full of freedom.

It was the kind of day where even the breeze felt like a promise. I closed my eyes for a second, letting the wind ruffle my hair. I could almost believe I was someone new—someone who could finally choose her own life.

Near the corner, a bunch of boys were noisily dragging a pale, blue-shirted pretty boy into the gaming lounge. "Hurry, hurry! Log in! Just take a peek at your girlfriend on Facebook! Just one look!"

Their laughter spilled out into the street, loud and careless. The boy in the middle—tall, awkward, with a stubborn set to his jaw—looked like he’d rather be anywhere else. Poor guy.

My heart skipped a beat.

It was Logan Pierce.

After the honor roll went up... Logan Pierce. The boy who died because of me.

The name felt like a secret I’d been carrying for a lifetime. Even now, just seeing him made my chest ache. He was the kind of boy who stood out in a crowd, even when he tried to blend in. The kind you remembered, long after everyone else faded away.

My throat tightened suddenly, my vision blurring.

I blinked hard, willing the tears away. I couldn’t afford to fall apart now. Not when I’d been given another shot.

Last life, after the SATs, Logan’s score—over 1500, top of the STEM track—made him famous all over our small town.

That summer, everyone in town was talking about him. The teachers bragged about him, the parents whispered, and for a brief moment, it felt like we both had a way out. I remembered the pride in his mom’s eyes, the way she stood a little taller at the grocery store. For once, people looked at her with something like respect.

I remembered his mom was strict, raising him alone after moving here. Neighbors gossiped that she was a homewrecker with an illegitimate child. She finally saw him succeed at the SATs. She must have been so happy.

I was happy too—maybe, after the exams, we could finally be together openly.

I saved for months, just to buy a new dress.

That night, the town was showing a movie in the park.

As I walked down the road, a man’s arm suddenly wrapped around my neck, violently dragging me into a nearby grove. He smelled of cigarettes, skinny but shockingly strong. I kicked and struggled, screaming and begging for help until a sack was thrown over my head.

The world shrank to darkness and panic. I remember the scratch of burlap against my skin, the taste of fear in my mouth. My screams echoed in my own ears, muffled by the sack, swallowed by the trees.

In that moment, I knew: it was over.

I could hear my own heartbeat, frantic and wild. I thought of all the stories whispered in town—girls who disappeared, reputations ruined, lives shattered in a blink. I knew what would happen if I survived. They’d say it was my fault. They always did.

In a small town like this, where rumors could ruin a girl’s reputation forever. They’d call me trashy, just like my mom. Say I wore new clothes to seduce men, so I deserved it. Maybe, just to keep things quiet, they’d marry me off to the guy who hurt me.

The weight of that future pressed down on me, heavier than any hand. I clawed at the sack, desperate for air, desperate for escape.

I fought back so hard, he punched me until I was dizzy. Through the haze, I suddenly heard someone curse, and the hand choking me loosened. I scrambled in the dark, struggling to untie the sack around my head.

A voice cut through the chaos—angry, desperate, familiar. I clung to it like a lifeline, my fingers fumbling with the knot.

"You little brat, want to die?!"

"Don’t kill her!"

"He saw us! And anyway, it’s just a single mom and her kid. Killing her isn’t a big deal—leaving her alive is more trouble!"

The words blurred together, but the fear was real. I finally tore the sack away, gasping for air, only to see Logan—blood streaming down his forehead, eyes wild with terror.

I finally got the sack off, only to be shoved hard by Logan, his forehead bleeding as he shouted, "Savannah, run! Run!"

"Don’t look back, just run!"

He shoved me so hard I stumbled, barely catching myself. His voice cracked with urgency, and I could see the terror in his eyes. I ran, feet pounding the earth, not daring to look back. His shout echoed after me, a promise and a goodbye all at once.

And then, that brilliant, exceptional boy…

his life ended there.

I never saw him again—not really. Just the memory of his voice, the blood on his face, the way he’d always stood between me and the worst the world could throw.

…

Tears welled up in my eyes.

God knows how I muddled through the rest of my last life. He loved science, so I became a science teacher, carrying on his only dream.

I spent years trying to fill the void he left. I thought if I followed in his footsteps, maybe I could make sense of it all. Maybe I could earn forgiveness, for both of us.

Now, he—

My phone suddenly buzzed in my pocket.

I pulled it out. Facebook Messenger was lighting up like crazy.

"FawnInTheWoods, you there?"

"Do you remember our promise?"

That was my screen name.

I remembered now.

Back then, we were secretly chatting online.

A rush of nostalgia hit me—back then, the thrill of secret messages, the hope of something more. I wiped my eyes and grinned, in spite of everything. His profile picture was as awkward as ever. Cropped too close. Blurry. Like he’d snapped it in a rush.

The tears dried up instantly.

And, wow, his profile picture was really ugly.

I let out a snort, the sound surprising even me. For a second, the heaviness lifted. I could almost pretend we were just two teenagers, goofing around online.

Through the glass window, I could see a few boys’ heads huddled together, excitedly waiting for a reply.

Without a word, I turned down the alley and found a payphone.

"Hello, is this Maple Heights High’s office? Someone’s skipping class at the gaming lounge."

I dialed with steady hands, my voice calm and even. Sometimes, the best revenge was the simplest one. I hung up before they could ask for my name, a small smile tugging at my lips.