Chapter 1

After my stepfather molested me, I told my mother.

She refused to face the truth and ran to friends and family, clinging to their reassurances.

"He just likes you. Don't read too much into it."

Meanwhile, my twin sister was busy spreading rumors, claiming I was pregnant with our stepfather's child.

The endless slander eventually drove me to the brink, landing me in a mental hospital and leaving me with nowhere to turn.

After I time-traveled, it was my twin sister who ended up repeating my mistakes—and the one confined to the mental hospital turned out to be my mother.

*****

I time-traveled.

I landed right back in the courtroom where Mom and Dad were splitting up, fighting over who got me and my twin, Emily Young.

I dropped Mom's hand, walked straight to Dad, and didn't look back. "Dad, can I go home with you?"

His face lit up like he'd won the lottery, eyes glassy. "O-of course you can."

Dad was still worried about Mom, so he let her keep most of the money.

She'd already found herself a new guy, some Wall-Street-level rich, two-karat-ring type, and the wedding was basically booked.

Anyone could see the cushy life was on her side of the aisle.

So when I picked Dad, the whole room forgot how to breathe.

Emily smelled opportunity before the echo died. She darted to Mom, all sugar. "Mom, I'm way easier than Sophie. Take me home, please?"

Mom had actually wanted me until that second.

Emily's eyes went rabbit-red, lip trembling like a kicked puppy.

Mom's face hardened. She shot me a look that could skin paint off a wall. "If you're dumb enough to follow that loser, don't come crying later."

Zero effort to hide the disgust; she'd always said Dad's paycheck was a joke.

That was the whole divorce. She wanted bigger, faster, richer.

"I won't be back," I said, loud enough for the cheap seats.

Emily's smirk could've sliced bread. Mom yanked her toward the Bentley waiting at the curb, silk heels clicking like exclamation points.

When the car disappeared, Dad bent so we were eye-level, worry all over him. "Things might get tight, my girl."

"I don't care. I'm happy if I'm with you," I said.

Dad loved me the way fairy-tale parents are supposed to. He'd step in front of a train without blinking.

At the corner, the Bentley paused long enough for Emily to stick her head out and flip me the world's smuggest eye-roll.

Dad sighed, "Same womb, two species."

I didn't flip her off. She could enjoy the penthouse view; the higher the climb, the louder the splat.

I could wait.

In my previous life, I'd chosen Mom. Stepdad Richard Allen played Perfect Daddy for the crowd—hugs, pecks on the forehead, "How's my princess?"

I didn't mind at first; Mom was handsy with kisses, too.

Then middle-school health class drew the new lines—good touch, bad touch.

The haze lifted. But it was too late.

Richard wasn't content with just hugs and kisses anymore.

He barged in while I changed, graded my body like cuts of meat, hands included.

Richard came from money and had a cushy job. To all our relatives and friends, he looked like the perfect gentleman—totally above board, nothing sketchy.

Everyone actually envied Mom for snagging a guy like him, especially since she was divorced and had two daughters already.

My mom, cashless since the divorce, clung to his platinum cards like oxygen.

I kept quiet; who would trust the kid over the benefactor, after all?

The timider and more scared I was, the more Richard kept crossing the line. Silence only fed him.

One night, the line he'd been doodling finally got crossed. He raped me.

I was scared out of my mind, but I forced myself to tell Mom everything anyway. Deep down, I desperately wanted her to stand up for me, but when I looked at her, all I saw was hesitation.

Mom didn't buy it at all. She said, "I'll have a word with Richard, but sweetie, you're still a kid. You probably just don't get it. He just cares about you, like a real dad would."

Then she sighed, "I know you're sensitive ever since the whole divorce thing happened with your dad."

She just didn't want to face the truth. She and Richard were already so tangled up together, and to her, tossing me aside was barely even a sacrifice.

Not only did Mom refuse to believe me, but she also practically couldn't wait to spill the beans to every single relative, airing out my pain for all to hear—just so someone would say it wasn't true and help her sleep better at night.

At the family gathering, my relatives were firing off questions at me, each word sharper than the last, making me feel like I'd just been dragged in for a crime I didn't commit.

"So, where exactly did he touch you?"

"He probably just likes you, maybe gave you a hug or a kiss. You're still too young to get it."

"Richard, don't take it to heart. Sophie's always been a sensitive kid."

Instantly, the world went dark. Chills shot down my spine, and every tiny hair on my arms stood straight up.

It was my shame, yet why was it on display for everyone?

Heat rushed to my cheeks; everything started tilting and spinning, and I could barely keep my balance.

All I wanted was to run, to get the hell out of there and away from them all.

As I stood and looked up, Richard caught my eye, his stare pure challenge, a smug look that seemed to say, "Go on, and try to escape. You belong to me now."