One after another, they rushed toward their houses.
Realizing they were about to be exposed, Tavian and Faron lost it. They didn’t give a damn about Gracie anymore—they came straight for me, fists flying.
I never actually planned to hurt her, so I let them knock the knife from my hands.
They kicked me to the ground. Tavian grabbed a shovel nearby and brought it down on me with full force.
“No!”
Gracie screamed, but Jethro and Melinda held her back.
I felt something warm trickle down my forehead, and my ears rang.
‘These bastards are really gonna kill me!’
I curled up, shielding my head as Tavian and Faron stomped and punched me.
Then, a sharp, commanding voice rang out from the doorway.
“Police! Drop your weapons!”
I finally exhaled in relief, but then everything faded to black.
When I opened my eyes again, two days had passed.
Just like in my last life, I was lying in a hospital bed.
My head was wrapped in thick bandages, an IV drip in my hand.
Mom and Dad sat beside me, their eyes red and teary. Behind them, my brother stood, smirking.
As soon as I woke up, Mom threw herself onto me, sobbing.
“My baby, you’ve suffered so much! We searched for you for years, and we finally found you!”