er of our dorm room, the soft hum of the radiator-it was all exactly as it was. And standing in front

ou look like you'

ribs, a frantic drumbeat of terror and rage. I stared at the locket in her hand. It wasn'

d, her smile unwaveri

me to run, to smash the cursed thing to pieces. But I couldn' t. If I refused, she' d know some

rced the words out, my voice thin

es gleaming with false sincerity. She took the

t imperceptible sensation, a slight chill that crept into my bones. In my first life, I had dismisse

a hand to my head. "Whoa, I t

ee? You' re pushing yourself too hard. This locket will help. My grandmo

e its true purpose. She was explainin

esting her. "Maybe I should see a doctor

raction of a second before smoot

u' re stressed and give you some useless pills. It' s just nerves before the big

The memory of the public humiliation, the pain, the blood, flashed through my mind. The faces of the crowd, twi

not as a distant memory, b

ways seemed just a little nicer than mine, the predatory glint in her eyes that I had always mist

all a lie. She had been studying me, learning my weaknesses, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. My talent wasn

person standing here now was someone else, someone forged in be

robably right. It' s just stress.

This time, I wouldn' t be its victi