The Heiress's Second Chance At Revenge

I grew up spoiled, flying first class and dreaming of million-dollar handbags.

But for once, I wanted a "real American experience," something my elite family would scoff at.

So, I booked a Greyhound bus ticket, planning to save a fortune and prove I wasn't just a pampered rich kid.

Then the nightmare jolted me awake, cold sweat gripping my back.

It wasn't a dream; it was a memory.

A grim, horrifying memory of that other life where my simple act of kindness on this very bus led to unspeakable horrors.

I saw her again, "Mama" Darlene, with her sickeningly sweet smile and homemade cookies.

I remembered the darkness that followed, waking up in a filthy room, my money gone.

I remembered Cletus, Darlene' s son, dragging me into the mountains, bringing me to a shack.

The things he did to me, the pain, before they left me for dead in a ditch.

To be here again, reliving the beginning of that hell, felt like a cruel joke.

Why was I given this second chance, only to endure the terror of knowing what was coming?

My stomach clenched as I saw Mama Darlene, already beside my seat, her repulsive grandson pawing at my backpack.

Was this nightmare destined to repeat, or could I break free?

My hands trembled, but my mind was crystal clear.

This time, I was awake.

And this time, I was ready to turn their game into my personal battlefield.

I grabbed my phone, and with a cold resolve, started calling in favors that would turn their Appalachian nightmare into theirs.

The jolt threw me awake, cold sweat sticking my shirt to my back.

The nightmare again.

Not a nightmare, a memory.

A memory of what would happen if I wasn't careful.

In that other life, I was kind to the old woman, "Mama" Darlene.

She looked so frail, so poor, alone on that Greyhound bus.

I offered her my water, half my sandwich.

She smiled, a sweet, grandmotherly smile.

Then she offered me a cookie, homemade, she said.

I ate it.

Darkness.

I woke up in a filthy room, head throbbing.

My money, my phone, gone.

Her grandson, "Junior," a boy who looked slow, had taken them while I was out.

Then her son, Cletus, dragged me deeper into the mountains.

To a shack.

The things he did.

The pain.

They left me in a ditch, thinking I was dead.

I was.

But now, I was awake, on the same bus, before any of it happened.

A second chance.

My hands shook, but my mind was clear, cold.

I grabbed my phone, fingers fumbling, and booked a private roomette on the Amtrak.

The next major city was three hours away, the train left tonight.

It cost a fortune, more than the designer handbag I was "saving" for by taking this stupid bus.

My family owned clinics, high-end ones, psychiatric facilities even.

They wanted me to fly first class.

I wanted a "real American experience."

I got one. A horrifying one.

Next, I called my brother, Alex.

"Sarah? What's wrong? You sound awful."

His voice, lawyer-sharp even half-asleep, was a comfort.

"Alex, I need you. Meet me in Chicago. And I need a good lawyer, the best."

"What happened? Are you hurt?"

"Not yet. I'll explain later. Just be there."

"Alright, Sarah. I'll be there. Money's no object, you know that."

I knew.

I hung up, took a deep breath.

The memory of Cletus's touch, Darlene's fake smile, still crawled on my skin.

I had to get my luggage.

It was under my original seat.

I walked down the aisle, legs unsteady.

And there she was.

Mama Darlene, in the seat next to mine.

Her grandson, Junior, was already there, his small, greasy hands pawing at my backpack on the seat.

He was smearing something sticky from his fingers onto the canvas.

The same backpack they'd emptied in my other life.

My stomach clenched.

The past wasn't just a nightmare, it was trying to repeat itself, right now.

But this time, I knew.

This time, I was ready.

I stood over them, the coldness inside me a shield.

Junior looked up, his eyes dull, a smear of what looked like cheap chocolate on his lips.

Darlene turned, her face crinkling into that fake, sweet smile.

"Oh, hello there, dearie. Just watchin' your bag for ya."

Her voice was like honey mixed with dirt.

I didn't smile back.

"Get your hands off my bag."

Darlene's smile faltered.

"Now, now, no need to be rude. Junior here was just makin' sure it didn't fall."

Junior grunted, wiping his greasy hand on my bag again.

A flash of the other life, the helplessness, the pain, made my voice sharp.

"He's getting it dirty. And you're a thief."

I said it loud.

Several passengers turned their heads.

Darlene' s eyes narrowed. The sweetness vanished, replaced by something hard and mean.

"Why, you ungrateful little snippet! We was just bein' neighborly!"

I pulled out my phone, started recording.

"You're trying to steal from me. Just like you planned."

Her face twisted. "I ain't no thief! How dare you!" She played the victim, her voice rising in a whine.

"She's a liar! This young girl is confused!"

The bus driver, a heavy man with a tired face, lumbered down the aisle.

"What's the problem here?"

"This woman and her grandson were going through my bag," I said, my voice steady, phone still on Darlene. "She stole money from me."

A lie, not yet, but it would have been.

"I saw her take several hundred dollars."

Darlene gasped, clutching her chest. "Never! I got barely enough for our tickets!"

She fumbled in a worn purse and pulled out a few crumpled dollar bills, thrusting them at me. "See? This is all I got!"

A woman in the seat across, kind-faced, probably a mother, spoke up.

"Ma'am, maybe it's a misunderstanding. Young lady, here," she offered me a twenty dollar bill, "take this, just let it go. No need for all this upset."

Darlene' s eyes latched onto the twenty.

I looked at the kind woman, then at Darlene, fuming silently.

I took the twenty.

"Fine," I said. "I'm getting off at the next stop anyway."

I grabbed my backpack, pulling it away from Junior.

Darlene glared, hatred in her eyes.

I walked to the front of the bus, not looking back.

As the bus pulled into the next station, I heard a small yelp.

I glanced back.

Junior had "accidentally" spilled his bright red soda all over the kind woman's pants.

Darlene didn't even scold him. She just smirked.

I stepped off the bus into the grimy city air, heading straight for the train station.

One threat down, for now.