Chapter 2

As I reached the bottom of the attic stairs, the sweet wind of near-freedom on my face, Caroline's voice stopped me.

"Running away again, Leo? How pathetic."

She stood in the grand foyer, Derek smirking beside her. The hope I felt moments ago turned into a familiar abyss.

"Derek's been having trouble sleeping," Caroline continued, her tone deceptively casual. "That silver locket your parents left you – it's supposed to be calming, isn't it? Give it to him."

My hand instinctively went to my chest. The locket was the last thing I had of them. In past loops, I' d clung to it, a tiny anchor. Now, it felt like another chain.

Reluctantly, I pulled the locket from under my shirt and handed it to Derek.

He took it, his fingers brushing mine, a cold touch. Then, with a theatrical "oops," he let it slip. It clattered onto the marble floor, the clasp breaking, the two halves springing apart.

"Oh, Leo, I'm so sorry!" Derek exclaimed, his voice dripping with false remorse. "It just slipped. My goodness, were you trying to give me something broken? To bring me bad luck?"

Caroline exploded. "How dare you try to curse Derek! You ungrateful brat!"

Her face was contorted with rage. She signaled to two burly security guards who materialized from the shadows.

"Take him to the stables. Teach him a lesson. The usual discipline."

The "usual discipline" was a brutal beating with a riding crop. My stomach clenched.

The guards dragged me away, Derek watching with a faint, satisfied smirk. Caroline turned her back, already cooing over Derek, fussing about his "shock." Her blind favoritism was a wall I could never scale.

In the stables, the familiar sting of the riding crop met my skin. Each strike was accompanied by Caroline's voice in my memory, or sometimes her actual voice if she decided to watch, listing my supposed transgressions.

"For being ungrateful." Strike.

"For upsetting Derek." Strike.

"For existing." Strike.

I lost count. Eventually, I blacked out.

I woke up on the damp, cold floor of the gardener's shed. It was dark, smelling of earth and decay. This was my new home. My body throbbed with a dull, pervasive ache.

Derek's prize-winning show dog probably had a softer bed. He was just a dog, an animal, but in Caroline's eyes, he was worth more than me. I was less than a dead dog to her.

This place felt like hell, a cold, damp corner of it. I closed my eyes, a wave of hopelessness washing over me. Maybe permanent dissolution wouldn't be so bad.

The next morning, the shed door creaked open, light flooding in, blinding me. Caroline stood silhouetted against it, her expression icy.

"Get up."

I slowly pushed myself to a sitting position. My head spun.

"Derek was sick all night," she said, her voice low and dangerous. "He thinks you put something in that broken locket, something to harm him."

Derek, the master of feigning innocence, had faked it, of course. I didn't even have the energy to deny it. My silence only confirmed her suspicions.

"You really want to die, don't you?" she hissed. "Fine. I'll help you."

Before I could react, she grabbed my hair, yanking my head back.

"No mercy for you," she whispered, then slammed my head against the rough stone floor.