Chapter 1

The first gunshot was a loud crack that split the air in the library.

My younger brother, Ethan, was sitting across from me, his head buried in an SAT prep book. He looked up, his eyes wide with confusion. Another crack echoed, closer this time, followed by screams.

People started running. Chairs scraped violently against the floor. Books tumbled from shelves.

I saw the man in the doorway. He was wearing a black ski mask and holding a handgun. He raised it.

He aimed it at our table.

I saw the small flash from the barrel. I saw Ethan jolt in his seat. A dark red stain blossomed on the front of his white t-shirt, right over his chest. He looked down at it, then back at me, his mouth opening but no sound coming out.

He slumped forward, his head hitting the table with a dull thud.

The world went silent. All I could see was the bright, spreading red. All I could hear was a buzzing in my ears.

My body moved before my brain could think. I scrambled out of my chair, knocking it over. I didn't run towards Ethan. I didn't scream his name.

I turned and ran away.

I pushed through the panicking crowd, my only thought to get out. Get away. I ran without looking back, my legs pumping, my lungs burning.

Because I had done this before.

In my last life, I had screamed.

I had dropped to my knees beside Ethan, my hands hovering over the wound, not knowing what to do. I had pulled out my phone, my fingers trembling so hard I could barely dial.

I called our mother, Dr. Olivia Miller. A celebrated neurosurgeon.

"Mom," I had sobbed into the phone. "Ethan's been shot. At the library. Please, you have to come."

There was a pause on the other end. Then her voice, cold and annoyed.

"Chloe, what nonsense are you talking about now? I'm busy. Ashley and I are about to get our nails done."

"It's not nonsense!" I shrieked, desperation clawing at my throat. "He's bleeding! Mom, please!"

"Stop being so dramatic, Chloe," she snapped. "I know you're jealous of the time I spend with Ashley, but making up a story like this is a new low, even for you. Don't call me again with this foolishness."

She hung up.

I called my father. I called my grandparents. They believed me, but by the time the ambulance arrived, it was too late. Ethan died from blood loss. He died waiting for a mother who thought he was a lie.

At the hospital, my family gathered. My mother finally arrived, her nails a perfect, glossy pink. When the doctor announced Ethan's death, her world shattered. And then she turned on me.

"You!" she screamed, her face twisted with grief and rage. "You did this! You just watched him die! You were jealous, you always were!"

My father tried to hold her back. My grandparents looked at me with confusion and suspicion. In their grief, her words were easier to believe than the horrifying truth of her own negligence.

She broke free from my father's grasp and lunged at me. We were at the top of a wide staircase in the hospital lobby. Her hands shoved against my chest, hard.

I lost my balance.

The world tilted, and I was falling backward. My head hit the marble floor with a sickening crack. A sharp, searing pain shot through my skull. Warm liquid, thick and sticky, began to pool around my head. It was the same red as the stain on Ethan's shirt.

My mother stood at the top of the stairs, looking down at me, her eyes filled with nothing but hate.

I died on that cold marble floor, bleeding out just like my brother. My last thought was of the unfairness of it all.

So this time, when I was reborn, back in the library at the exact moment the nightmare began again, I made a different choice.

The sight of Ethan's blood was just as shocking. The buzzing in my ears was just as loud.

But this time, I knew. I knew that trying to save him would only lead to my own death. It would lead to my family blaming me, hating me, destroying me.

They weren't my family. Not really. A family wouldn't let one child die because of their obsession with another. A mother wouldn't kill her own daughter out of misplaced rage.

This time, I chose to save myself.

I didn't stop running until the sounds of the library were far behind me. I didn't look back. I just ran, leaving Ethan, my mother, my father, and that whole broken life behind me. Let them see for themselves. Let them live with the consequences of their own choices. This time, I wouldn't be their scapegoat.

This time, I would just be a spectator.