Chapter 4

Shattered didn't even begin to cover it. The Carters had lost almost everything. Their home, their savings, their sense of security.

Oakhaven, a town already on its knees, offered little hope. The flood had been the final, brutal punch.

Tom and Susan sat at a borrowed table in the cramped FEMA trailer they' d been assigned, the silence heavy.

"She said she's reincarnated," Em blurted out one evening, the words tasting like ash. "Britt. She said she knows my life, and she's taking it."

Tom looked up, his face etched with exhaustion. "Em, honey, that girl... she' s not right in the head. And her parents are worse, feeding her delusions."

"But how did she know about the flood?" Susan whispered, her eyes wide. "How do they always know?"

No one had an answer.

The insurance payout was a joke, barely enough to cover outstanding bills. Rebuilding seemed impossible. Staying in Oakhaven felt like waiting for the next disaster, the next Evans-engineered triumph.

"We can't stay here," Tom said finally, his voice rough. "There's nothing left for us in Oakhaven."

Susan nodded slowly, tears welling in her eyes. "But where would we go? What would we do?"

"Anywhere but here," Em said, a surprising firmness in her voice. Britt' s taunt echoed in her mind: "This town was always a dead end for you anyway."

Maybe, just maybe, Britt was right about that one thing.

"I read about cities in the South," Em continued, remembering articles from the school library. "Places that are growing. Charlotte, Raleigh... Atlanta."

It was a fragile seed of an idea, born from desperation.

Tom looked at Susan. Her face was pale, but a flicker of something – not hope, not yet, but maybe resolve – sparked in her eyes.

"Charlotte," she repeated. "North Carolina. It' s a long way."

"A new start," Tom said, straightening up a little. "A completely new start. Away from... all this."

Away from the Evanses. Away from the memories. Away from the life Britt claimed to have stolen.

"If she stole that life," Em said, her voice low but fierce, "then we'll build a new one. One she knows nothing about. One she can't touch."

It was a defiant stand, a refusal to be a victim in Britt Evans's twisted narrative.

They sold what little they had salvaged for pennies on the dollar. The shell of their house went to a speculator for almost nothing.

Saying goodbye to Oakhaven was surprisingly easy. There were too many ghosts, too many bitter memories.

As they drove away in their packed, aging station wagon, Em didn't look back. She focused on the road ahead, towards a city she' d only seen in pictures, towards an unknown future.

It was terrifying.

It was also, strangely, liberating.