Their Downfall, My Design

I was heading into senior year, my ROTC scholarship practically a guarantee, my future stretching out bright and limitless.

Then, my childhood friend and first love, Mike, fueled by jealousy and his new girlfriend Jessica' s petty spite, drugged my drink.

It was right before my crucial ROTC physical, and I failed, watching my dreams and entire future evaporate.

My life spiraled into dead-end jobs, a miserable existence far from what I' d planned.

Years later, at a party, Jessica, still simmering with a twisted hatred, set her friends on me.

I remembered the rough hands, the tearing, the cold, hard floor against my cheek as their cruel laughter filled the air.

They stripped away everything, then they killed me.

The searing pain, the utter betrayal, the image of their faces twisting with delight as I lay dying - it was an agonizing, incomprehensible end.

Why? How could they commit such an unspeakable act, then simply walk away?

But then, I woke up, gasping, in my own bed, three years in the past, my body miraculously whole and untouched.

Reborn.

A terrifying realization struck me with the force of a physical blow: what if they were back too?

At the first school assembly, Mike' s arrogant smirk and Jessica' s cold, knowing eyes confirmed my worst fears.

They remembered.

But this time, I wouldn't just survive; I would ensure they paid for every last bit of what they did.

The game was on, and this time, I was ready to win.

The cheap motel room ceiling fan wobbled.

That was the last thing I saw.

Before that, Jessica' s twisted smile, Mike' s guilty face turning away.

Then darkness.

Pain.

So much pain.

They' d laughed.

I remembered the rough hands, the tearing, the cold floor against my cheek.

Then, nothing.

Now, sunlight.

Too bright.

I blinked.

My own bedroom.

Posters of universities, ROTC pamphlets on my desk.

My alarm clock read 7:00 AM. September 5th.

Senior year.

Three months before the SATs.

Three months before the ROTC application deadline.

My heart hammered.

This wasn' t possible.

I sat up, hands flying to my body.

No scars. No pain.

My reflection in the mirror was younger, untouched by the horror.

Alive.

I was alive.

And it was three years ago.

Reborn. The word screamed in my head.

A shiver ran down my spine.

If I was back, were they?

The thought was a cold dread.

My first life: top of my class, ROTC scholarship in my sights.

Mike Evans, my childhood friend, my first boyfriend.

He' d turned sour when I wouldn' t drop everything for him and his new flame, Jessica Bell.

He drugged my drink before my ROTC physical.

I failed. Lost the scholarship.

My life spiraled. Dead-end jobs.

Then that party. Jessica, jealous Mike even looked at me, had her friends...

No. I wouldn' t relive the details.

They killed me.

Now, I had a second chance.

Not just to live, but for justice.

School assembly. The principal droned on.

I scanned the crowd, my stomach churning.

Then, a commotion.

Mike Evans, swaggering to the stage, microphone in hand.

His eyes, arrogant and knowing, met mine for a split second.

A chill went through me. He knew.

He turned to the bleachers, a sickeningly sweet smile on his face.

"Jessica Bell!" he boomed. "From the moment I first saw you, I knew you were the one!"

A giant, tacky teddy bear appeared from backstage, followed by a dozen red roses.

Jessica, preening, walked towards him, feigning surprise.

It was a carbon copy of an event from our first life.

A public, over-the-top declaration that had made everyone cringe then, and made my blood run cold now.

They were both back.

They remembered everything.

Jessica' s eyes flicked to me, a smirk playing on her lips.

The game was on.

But this time, I knew the players.

And I wouldn' t just play. I would win.

My fists clenched.

This life, I would get my scholarship.

I would get my future.

And they would pay for what they did to me.

Every last bit.

The cafeteria buzzed.

I sat alone, textbook open, forcing down a sandwich.

"Well, well, look who it is."

Jessica' s voice, like nails on a chalkboard.

She stood there, Mike smirking beside her, his arm around her waist.

Her tray clattered onto my table, splashing soda near my book.

"Oops, clumsy me," she said, not sounding sorry at all.

Mike chuckled. "Still hitting the books, Ash? Some things never change."

His eyes held a glint of something nasty.

"Unlike some people's grades, I hope," I said, not looking up.

Jessica gasped, offended. "Are you saying Mike' s dumb?"

"I'm saying I'm busy," I replied, my voice even. I moved my book.

"You know, Ash," Mike leaned in, his voice lower, "that ROTC physical is pretty tough. Be a shame if something... unexpected happened again."

My blood turned to ice.

The memory of the drugged water, the failed test, the crushing disappointment, it all flooded back.

He was threatening me. Openly.

He thought he still had that power over me.

I finally looked up, meeting his gaze.

"It would be a shame, Mike," I said, my voice dangerously calm. "Especially if whoever caused it faced actual consequences this time."

His smirk faltered. Jessica tugged his arm.

"Come on, Mikey, don't waste your breath on her. She's just jealous."

She shot me a venomous look. "You'll never get that scholarship. You're not good enough. You never were."

They walked away, laughing, their arms linked.

My hands were shaking.

Not from fear. From rage.

Their arrogance. Their cruelty.

They thought they could just waltz back into this life and ruin me again.

No.

Not this time.

His threat, her words, they didn't break me.

They fueled me.

Every insult, every smirk, was another reason to push harder.

I would ace my SATs. I would pass that physical.

I would get everything I deserved.

And I would make sure they lost everything.

Later that week, I saw Mike in the library.

Not studying.

He was on a flashy new laptop, Jessica perched on his lap, giggling as they scrolled through what looked like designer websites.

In our first life, Mike was smart, if lazy. He could have done well.

But now, with his foreknowledge, he thought he didn't need to try.

He' d just coast on old memories, impress Jessica with money he probably conned his mom into giving him.

He was already sabotaging himself.

Good. Let him.

I had my own path.

Study. Train. Succeed.

And watch them burn.