Chapter 2

The world snapped back into focus with a nauseating jolt. The scent of turpentine, the familiar clutter of our dorm room, the soft hum of the radiator-it was all exactly as it was. And standing in front of me was Chloe, a serpent disguised as my best friend, holding out the instrument of my destruction.

"Ava? You okay? You look like you' ve seen a ghost."

Her voice was a painful echo from a life I had already lost. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat of terror and rage. I stared at the locket in her hand. It wasn' t just a piece of jewelry anymore. It was a vessel of pure malice, a cage for a stolen life.

"Take it," she urged, her smile unwavering. "It' s for you."

My hand trembled as I reached out. I didn' t want to touch it. Every cell in my body screamed at me to run, to smash the cursed thing to pieces. But I couldn' t. If I refused, she' d know something was wrong. My only chance was to play along, to walk the same path but rewrite the ending.

"Chloe... it' s beautiful," I forced the words out, my voice thin and reedy. "You shouldn' t have."

"Of course, I should have," she said, her eyes gleaming with false sincerity. She took the locket and fastened it around my neck herself.

The moment the cold metal touched my skin, a wave of dizziness washed over me. It was a faint, almost imperceptible sensation, a slight chill that crept into my bones. In my first life, I had dismissed it as nothing. Now, I knew it was the curse taking hold, a parasitic tendril searching for a host.

I stumbled back a step, putting a hand to my head. "Whoa, I think I just stood up too fast."

Chloe' s hand was on my arm instantly, her grip surprisingly strong. "See? You' re pushing yourself too hard. This locket will help. My grandmother swore by it. It boosts your energy, your creativity... everything."

A lie. A carefully crafted lie to hide its true purpose. She was explaining away the very symptoms of the curse.

"I feel a little... strange," I said, testing her. "Maybe I should see a doctor at the campus clinic. I feel really off."

Her expression tightened for a fraction of a second before smoothing back into a mask of concern.

"Don' t be silly, Ava," she said dismissively. "A doctor will just tell you you' re stressed and give you some useless pills. It' s just nerves before the big exhibition. Trust me. Just wear the locket. You' ll feel better in a day or two."

She was actively preventing me from seeking help, from having anyone else confirm what was happening to my body. The memory of the public humiliation, the pain, the blood, flashed through my mind. The faces of the crowd, twisted in shock and disgust. The cold, final words of Dean Albright. My mother' s voice on the phone, disowning me.

It all came rushing back, not as a distant memory, but as a fresh, open wound.

I looked at Chloe, really looked at her. Her perfectly styled hair, her expensive clothes that always seemed just a little nicer than mine, the predatory glint in her eyes that I had always mistaken for ambition. How could I have been so blind? How could I have called this person my friend?

I thought of the years we' d lived together, the secrets I' d shared, the times I' d leaned on her for support. It was all a lie. She had been studying me, learning my weaknesses, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. My talent wasn' t an inspiration to her, it was an obstacle. My scholarship wasn' t something to celebrate, it was something to steal.

The naive, trusting Ava was dead. She died on that bridge. The person standing here now was someone else, someone forged in betrayal and given a second chance for one reason only: vengeance.

I forced a weak smile. "You' re probably right. It' s just stress. Thank you, Chloe. It means a lot."

I touched the locket at my throat. This time, I wouldn' t be its victim. This time, it would be my weapon.