Woke Up Screaming: A Second Chance

We woke up screaming.

The cloying scent of lilies, the vivid, horrifying memories-Jessica. My older sister, a syringe in her hand, her eyes bright with a chilling mania, her obsession with "dark romance" novels, her fixation on tech mogul Damian Blackwood. We died once because of her twisted fantasy; we were just collateral damage.

Now, we were back-my parents and I-with the chilling knowledge of our past. Then the phone rang. It was her. She' d damaged Damian Blackwood' s drone again, trying her pathetic "meet-cute." Just like before.

My parents, once her enablers, now had pale faces and rock-hard eyes.

This time, we wouldn't bail her out. This time, she would face the consequences alone.

But Jessica' s delusion only festered. Arrests, lawsuits, public humiliations-she embraced them as "tests." She stalked him, got fired, and finally, drugged him. I watched, sickened, as she spiraled deeper into her twisted script, even after being assaulted.

Her unshakeable belief that Damian was "testing" her, even as she was thrown out like trash, was maddening. How could someone be so utterly lost in a fantasy, even when faced with stark, brutal reality? What happened to the caring sister I once knew?

This reawakening wasn't just about surviving. It was about breaking the cycle. This time, the monster wouldn' t win. I would dismantle the very source of her misguided obsession, Damian Blackwood himself, armed with the terrifying knowledge of his true nature from a life we already lost.

I woke up screaming.

The smell of lilies, cloying and sweet, filled my nostrils, the same scent from the funeral home.

Mom and Dad were beside me, their faces pale, eyes wide with the same terror I felt.

We remembered.

Everything.

Jessica.

My older sister, her eyes bright with a chilling mania, a syringe in her hand.

Her obsession with those trashy "dark romance" novels, the ones where the psycho billionaire "tests" the heroine.

Her fixation on Damian Blackwood, the tech mogul whose face was plastered everywhere.

She wanted his life, his money.

She thought she was a heroine.

In our first life, it started with a drone.

A custom, expensive drone of Blackwood's, at a tech expo.

Jessica, trying to stage a "meet-cute" from her favorite book, "accidentally" damaged it.

Mom and Dad, always enabling her, always sacrificing, bankrupted themselves to pay for it.

It didn't stop there.

Stalking.

Attempting to drug him.

And when her fantasy shattered, when Blackwood had her thrown out like trash, she didn't blame him.

She blamed us.

For not supporting her "destiny."

For being "obstacles."

The poison was swift.

We died together, a family destroyed by her delusion.

Now, we were back.

Same small apartment, same life, but with the horrific memories seared into our brains.

The phone rang.

Mom answered, her hand trembling.

"Hello?"

Her face went white.

"It's Jessica," she whispered, phone pressed to her ear. "She's at the tech expo. She... she just damaged Damian Blackwood's drone."

It was happening again.

Exactly like before.

Dad snatched the phone.

"Jessica, listen to me. We are not paying for anything. You understand? You are on your own."

He hung up.

The three of us looked at each other.

The trauma was fresh, the fear was real.

But this time, something else was there.

Resolve.

"This time," I said, my voice hoarse, "she faces the music. Alone."

Mom nodded, tears streaming down her face, but her eyes were hard.

"No more. We won't let her destroy us again."

This wasn't just a second chance for us to live.

It was a chance for Jessica to face the real world, the one outside her twisted fantasies.

Damian Blackwood was furious.

Of course he was. His custom drone cost a fortune.

Jessica was arrested.

Sued for a sum that made my stomach churn, even knowing we wouldn't pay.

But when we heard from a reluctant public defender, Jessica was... ecstatic.

"He's testing me!" she'd apparently gushed. "It's just like in 'Billionaire's Captive Heart'! He wants to see if I'm strong enough for him!"

The delusion was staggering.

She was released pending charges, a cloud of debt and potential jail time hanging over her.

She called, expecting a bailout.

"Mom, Dad, you need to pay this. It's part of his plan for us."

"No, Jessica," Mom said, her voice surprisingly firm. "We told you. You made this mess, you fix it."

Jessica screamed, a torrent of abuse and accusations.

We hung up.

She didn't get it. She truly believed this was some elaborate courtship ritual.

Convinced she could charm Damian, she stormed his Blackwood Innovations headquarters.

Kevin, a former colleague of hers from a disastrous internship, later told me the details.

She' d tried to push past security, shouting Damian's name, claiming they had an "understanding."

Security was not amused.

They dragged her out, kicking and screaming.

In her struggle, she apparently pulled a fire alarm.

The building's sprinklers went off, drenching her and a good portion of the lobby.

She was hauled away by police again, this time for trespassing and causing a public disturbance.

Her internship, the one she barely tolerated, fired her via a curt email before she even made bail – which, again, we didn't provide.

She was on her own, soaked, humiliated, and deeper in trouble.

But in her mind, she was probably the "feisty heroine" overcoming obstacles.

The thought made me sick.