Chapter 2

Darkness. The smell of damp earth and my own fear. I could hear the party music still thumping in the distance, a surreal soundtrack to my second death. I lay perfectly still, listening to Chloe' s grunts as she rolled more heavy blocks into the cellar. One grazed my leg, sending a sharp, searing pain up to my hip.

I waited. My breath was shallow. I had to survive this.

After a few minutes, the noise stopped. I heard their footsteps fading away as they went back to the party. I was alone in the blackness, trapped. A sliver of awareness pushed through the pain. I was alive. I had to get out.

"Help," I whispered, my voice a dry croak. "Please, someone help me."

It was a useless plea. No one would hear me over the music. No one would dare cross Caleb.

Then I heard a new sound. The creak of the cellar door opening again. A sliver of moonlight cut through the darkness. A large silhouette blocked it.

"Well, well. Look what we have here."

The voice was greasy, familiar. A cold dread washed over me. It was Scrap Yard Joe.

A rope ladder snaked down into the cellar. He descended, his heavy boots thudding on the dirt floor. The smell of stale beer, sweat, and motor oil filled the small space. He loomed over me, a grin splitting his filthy face. Chloe must have promised me to him, just like last time. She had sent him to "rescue" me.

"Little bird fell down a hole," he chuckled. "Good thing I was here to help."

His hand clamped down on my arm, his fingers digging into my bruised skin. He started to drag me toward the ladder.

"Chloe said you' d be waiting for me," he grunted, his breath hot and foul. "Said you were eager to get away from that pretty boy."

Panic gave me strength. I wasn' t the broken woman from my first life. Not yet.

I twisted, kicking out with my good leg. My boot connected with his knee. He roared in pain and surprise, his grip loosening for a second. It was all I needed. I scrambled away from him, crawling over the broken cinder blocks toward the rope ladder.

He lunged for me, but I was faster. I grabbed the rough rope and pulled myself up, my muscles screaming in protest. He grabbed my ankle, his thick fingers like a vise. I kicked back wildly, my heel striking his face. He cursed and let go.

I scrambled out of the cellar and ran. I didn' t look back. I just ran, my torn dress flapping around my legs, my breath coming in ragged gasps. I ran straight toward the light and noise of the party.

I burst through the back door and into the kitchen, right into the middle of a crowd of guests. They all stopped and stared. My dress was ripped and covered in dirt. There was a long, bleeding gash on my leg.

Before I could say a word, Caleb and Chloe were there.

"There she is!" Chloe shrieked, pointing a trembling finger at me. She looked horrified, but her eyes were gleaming with triumph.

Caleb' s face was a mask of righteous fury. He grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me.

"Where were you?" he roared. "Who were you with?"

He spun me around to face the crowd. "Look at her! She runs off on the night before our wedding and comes back like this! She was with him! She was with Scrap Yard Joe!"

He spat the name out like a curse. Gasps rippled through the room.

"I saw them!" Chloe cried, tears streaming down her face. "She was sneaking out to meet him! I tried to stop her, but she wouldn' t listen! She said she' d rather be with a man like that than marry you, Caleb!"

I tried to speak, to tell them the truth. "No... he..."

But my words were drowned out. A woman I recognized, the mother of the boy Chloe was originally supposed to marry, pushed through the crowd. Her face was contorted with rage.

"You whore!" she screamed, her voice shrill. She slapped me hard across the face. "You try to ruin my family' s arrangement, and now you try to ruin the Millers? You are trash from the mountains, and you' ll always be trash!"

She grabbed a handful of my hair and yanked my head back. The crowd murmured in agreement, their faces a blur of judgment and contempt. I was surrounded, trapped by their lies and their hatred.