Chapter 1

The jolt threw me awake, cold sweat sticking my shirt to my back.

The nightmare again.

Not a nightmare, a memory.

A memory of what would happen if I wasn't careful.

In that other life, I was kind to the old woman, "Mama" Darlene.

She looked so frail, so poor, alone on that Greyhound bus.

I offered her my water, half my sandwich.

She smiled, a sweet, grandmotherly smile.

Then she offered me a cookie, homemade, she said.

I ate it.

Darkness.

I woke up in a filthy room, head throbbing.

My money, my phone, gone.

Her grandson, "Junior," a boy who looked slow, had taken them while I was out.

Then her son, Cletus, dragged me deeper into the mountains.

To a shack.

The things he did.

The pain.

They left me in a ditch, thinking I was dead.

I was.

But now, I was awake, on the same bus, before any of it happened.

A second chance.

My hands shook, but my mind was clear, cold.

I grabbed my phone, fingers fumbling, and booked a private roomette on the Amtrak.

The next major city was three hours away, the train left tonight.

It cost a fortune, more than the designer handbag I was "saving" for by taking this stupid bus.

My family owned clinics, high-end ones, psychiatric facilities even.

They wanted me to fly first class.

I wanted a "real American experience."

I got one. A horrifying one.

Next, I called my brother, Alex.

"Sarah? What's wrong? You sound awful."

His voice, lawyer-sharp even half-asleep, was a comfort.

"Alex, I need you. Meet me in Chicago. And I need a good lawyer, the best."

"What happened? Are you hurt?"

"Not yet. I'll explain later. Just be there."

"Alright, Sarah. I'll be there. Money's no object, you know that."

I knew.

I hung up, took a deep breath.

The memory of Cletus's touch, Darlene's fake smile, still crawled on my skin.

I had to get my luggage.

It was under my original seat.

I walked down the aisle, legs unsteady.

And there she was.

Mama Darlene, in the seat next to mine.

Her grandson, Junior, was already there, his small, greasy hands pawing at my backpack on the seat.

He was smearing something sticky from his fingers onto the canvas.

The same backpack they'd emptied in my other life.

My stomach clenched.

The past wasn't just a nightmare, it was trying to repeat itself, right now.

But this time, I knew.

This time, I was ready.