A Second Chance At Tragedy

It began innocently enough. My high school roommate, Jessica, needed a place to stay during a break, just as my older brother, David, was prepping for his SATs, his ticket to an Ivy League dream. My trusting parents welcomed her into our home. Then, the nightmare struck. A scream in the night. Jessica, teary-eyed, accused David of something unspeakable-a monstrous, venomous lie. That lie didn' t just stick; it decimated us. David's scores plunged, his dreams shattered, expelled from school. He found a dead-end job, then an accident claimed his life. Our parents, heartbroken, soon followed. And Jessica? She remained, a parasite feeding on our grief, playing the survivor while I simmered with impotent rage until everything ended in fire. The memory was a raw, bleeding wound-the profound injustice, the agony of watching my family crumble from a fabrication. Why did it have to end like that? Why couldn't I have seen through her sweet facade sooner? But then, I gasped awake, sunlight streaming through my familiar window. The calendar showed the exact date. Downstairs, I heard her voice: Jessica' s. I was back. This wasn't a dream. This was a second chance, a fierce, burning clarity-a chance to save David, my parents, and myself, and to dismantle Jessica' s wicked game, piece by deceitful piece.