Chapter 2

After Ethan left, I moved around the small room that had been my cage for so long. Every object held a memory of my foolish first life. The simple wedding dress hanging on the closet door, the photos of Ethan and me on the nightstand. I looked at them with the detached coldness of a stranger.

My gaze fell on the small trash can by my desk.

I remembered.

In my first life, a week before the wedding, I'd found a crumpled letter in this can. Ethan had thrown it away. It was a full-ride scholarship acceptance to the state university, a special program for students from economically depressed regions like mine.

When I had asked him about it, he' d laughed it off. He said it was probably a scam, that they sent them to everyone. He said I wasn't university material, that my place was with him, as his wife.

I had believed him. I was a girl from a coal town with a bad leg. Who was I to dream of a university education? I let the dream die.

Now, my heart hammered against my ribs. I limped over to the trash can and reached inside, my fingers brushing against crumpled tissues and old mail.

There it was.

A thick, cream-colored envelope, bent and creased but still intact. I pulled it out and smoothed it on my desk. The university logo was embossed at the top.

Dear Ms. Sarah Jenkins,

It is with great pleasure that we offer you a place in the Appalachian Scholars Program with a full academic scholarship...

The words blurred for a second. This wasn't a scam. It was real. It had always been real. He had taken it from me. He had seen my potential, my escape route, and he had deliberately crushed it to keep me tied to him.

A cold rage, clean and sharp, burned through me. It wasn't the hot, messy anger of my first life. It was a focused, calculated fury.

I looked at the bottom of the letter. Please confirm your acceptance by telephone no later than August 15th.

August 15th. That was tomorrow.

I didn't wait. I didn't hesitate. I picked up the phone on my nightstand, my fingers dialing the number from the letterhead. My hand was perfectly steady.

The phone rang twice before a cheerful voice answered. "Admissions Office, this is Brenda speaking."

"Hello," I said, my voice clear and strong. "My name is Sarah Jenkins. I'm calling to accept my spot in the Appalachian Scholars Program."

There was a pause, the sound of typing. "Jenkins, Sarah... yes, I see you here! Congratulations! We were hoping to hear from you. We just need to confirm a few details."

I answered her questions, my mind a whirl of logistics. Dorm assignments, orientation dates, class registration. Each word was a brick, laying the foundation for a future that was entirely my own.

When I hung up the phone, the sun was streaming through my window. For the first time since the mine collapse, I felt no pain in my leg.

I looked at the wedding dress. It was a symbol of my past, of my sacrifice.

I walked over, took it off the hanger, and folded it neatly. Then I placed it at the bottom of my closet, under a stack of old winter blankets.

I would not be needing it.