Chapter Five
Renata
Even before I plop down on the lumpy chair, the words burst out of me like hot lava. "I don't understand a thing! How can I come back for revenge if. . . if Henry and I were so. . . so. . . close?"
My cheeks flush as I replay the scene in my head. It felt so real-his touch had burned me. I might not remember every little detail, but I know one thing for sure: not many couples share such intense chemistry. It was practically explosive.
So, what the heck really happened?
I glance up at the woman, and a smirk creeps onto her lips, like she's just won a cat-and-mouse game.
She knows.
The old bat knows.
Is she some dark angel or just a garden-variety witch with a flair for the dramatic?
"It's just like I said," she remarks, startling me back to reality. "You came back for revenge."
I roll my eyes so hard I think they might get stuck. "Yes, yes, you already said that, but why on earth would I? Are you trying to make me sound like some villain straight out of a bad soap opera? I mean, really!"
She shrugs. "I'm sorry, Bella, but I can't tell you that."
I feel the onset of a headache at the base of my neck but try to push through it. She's being difficult, but I need to get to the bottom of this. It's about my life, after all.
I shake my head and stand up. "Let me get this straight. . ." I place a hand on my waist before fixing her with a piercing gaze. "I came back for revenge because-"
"You died!"
Her words feel like a noose tightening around my neck. I think my heart stops for three precious seconds. When it resumes, it's fast and loud.
"What are you saying?"
She sighs and stands up, pity filling her gaze as she shakes her head. "I'm assuming you saw yourself when you were sixteen years old?"
She waits for me to comprehend, but I'm still stuck on the part where she claims I died.
She takes my hand. "Come, I want you to see something."
Something else?
I follow her, her grip tight around my wrist. Honestly, even if she weren't dragging me along, I'd still be right on her heels. Curiosity didn't kill the cat; it just made me want to know what kind of insane plot twist we're dealing with.
She stops, yanking me to a halt, then gently spins me to the right like I'm a prize in a carnival game. Suddenly, I'm face-to-face with a mirror.
"I don't know what this has to do with--"
"Look at yourself!" she commands.
I roll my eyes, feeling irritation bubble up, but I sigh and obey. The second my eyes land on the mirror, I'm met with a strange view.
Pale skin, long, curly red hair, blue eyes, a sprinkle of freckles, and a heart-shaped face that looks like it belongs on a fashion magazine cover, not in my personal reality.
You died.
That's the punch line I didn't see coming. The girl I saw with Henry? Totally different vibe-soft brown eyes, long dark hair, and olive-toned skin.
That was me when I was sixteen.
And who am I staring at? A total stranger.
Panic bubbles up in my chest like I just chugged expired soda.
Oh, hell no.
Not now.
I can't afford a panic attack right now. I need to grab this truth by the horns and wrestle it down, even if it ends up killing me. . . again. Because let's be real, I've had enough drama for one lifetime.
I take several deep breaths and push down the panic, trying to regain my composure.
The woman's reflection behind me, smiles and nods, like she's been waiting for my lightbulb moment. "I can see you finally understand."
She steps back and turns, and I move away from the reflection of the stranger to follow her, trying to mask the confusion swirling in my mind.
"So. . . I came back in the body of another person for revenge," I say, the situation of the moment hitting me squarely in the face.
She stops and turns, a somber look suddenly creeping into her eyes. "Yes. Five years later."
The gasp that escapes me feels like it comes from the very depths of my soul, like my soul just took a punch. My knees wobble like they're made of jelly, and I almost lose my balance, but I grip the edge of the bookcase tightly, holding on for dear life like it's my last lifeline.
Dark spots dance in front of me, and I blink them away with the determination of someone who just got served a major plot twist.
I lick my dry lips and croak out, "And. . . what about the soul of the body I inhabit?"
The woman looks at me intently, sizing me up like I'm the next contestant on a twisted reality show. Then her lips tilt up with a hint of mischief. "Her soul is drifting."
"What do you mean?" My voice comes out high-pitched, almost like I just walked in on a surprise party I definitely wasn't ready for.
In all fairness, I think I'm handling this about as well as anyone can, given the shocking news. I mean, I'm not freaking out or fainting, at least. . . not yet.
Honestly, I'm nailing this whole "shock and disbelief" thing for someone who just discovered she died five years ago and her soul is now crashing in someone else's body for the sake of revenge.
No biggie, right?
Yeah, I'd say I'm doing just peachy.
The woman turns around and keeps strutting away.
I don't follow her right away. Instead, my eyes start darting around her small, cluttered sitting room, looking for something - anything - to distract me from this mess of a situation I've found myself in.
And then, bam! Something catches my eye right beside me.
The bookshelf.
I pivot toward it, because of course, a little literary escape might do wonders. My hands glide along the spines of the books. One of them practically screams at me, and let me tell you, it's not subtle.
I close my eyes, take a deep breath before opening my eyes, I'm gripping a leather-bound book. Ah, fancy! I pull it out and admire the hard gold binder contrasting with the dark brown cover.
A gold inscription winks at me, like it knows all the secrets of the universe.
A five-star with a ball in the middle of it? No title? Seriously? Talk about mysterious! Just what I need-a little enigmatic flair to lighten my existential crisis.
I feel the pull once more, so I open it. My eyes land on a title that gets my invisible hackles rising like a cat ready to pounce.
WANDERING SOULS.
My heartbeat picks up as I stare at it in awe, thoughts crowding my head like too many opinions.
I take a deep breath, but as I flip to the first page, a voice snaps me from my moment of peace.
"What are you doing?"
I whip my head up, and there she is --- the strange woman, whose name I still don't know. Her eyes are hardened to dark shards, glaring at me like I just kicked her puppy.
"I. it's-"
"Forget it! You have to leave. . . NOW!"
Okay, Miss Grumpy Pants, I see how it is. The trance I was in shatters like glass, and I scramble to return the book, but her voice cuts through my frantic movements.
"Take it, but leave now!"
She spins around, not waiting for me to acknowledge her generous offer. Well, who am I to hesitate? I snag the book and tuck it against my side, practically hot on her heels because, oh, I definitely need some answers.
Sunlight bursts into my eyes like it's trying to blind me, causing me to squint and pitch my face away from the sudden brightness.
The woman stops abruptly, and I almost crash into her. She shakes her head, sighs dramatically, and plops down in her rocking chair. With a look that can scare the paint off a wall, she says, "Isabella, where Renata's soul is currently wandering doesn't concern you. What truly matters is that you came back for one specific thing, and time is running out."
My eyes nearly pop out of my head at her words.
Great, just what I needed to hear.
Does this mean I could die again? Because honestly, I don't even have a plan for that.
The headache I've been trying to ignore suddenly decides it wants to throw a party, and I'm not on the guest list.
As if sensing my distress, the woman closes her eyes and starts rocking herself like a ship in a storm, humming some tune that sounds like it's been recycled from a forgotten nursery rhyme.
And just like that, I know I've been dismissed with the subtlety of a brick wall.
I back away from her without turning, but it's like my presence has evaporated into thin air. Not even a polite 'See you later' to send me off. Rude.
My feet start moving of their own accord, but I'm not really registering anything-it's like I'm on autopilot, and the pilot just took a coffee break.
The sun tucks itself behind a cloud, and the wind kicks up like it's trying to make a dramatic entrance. A chill crawls up my spine, and I shiver, her ominous words ringing in my head like a bad pop song on repeat.
You died.
You died.
You'd-
"Hey, woman, watch where you're going!"
The honk of a horn snaps me back like a rubber band, and I look up to see I'm on a busy road, nearly doing a tango with a speeding car. The driver, sporting bushy eyebrows and a scowl that could curdle milk, leans out the window, shaking his head and unleashing a stream of curses.
His face blurs in my mind, his eyes blending into a single glare. His tongue is a weapon of mass destruction aimed right at me.
And then those words hit me again-You died.
The ground suddenly comes rushing at me, and gravity makes its presence known as I feel myself falling. Darkness swallows me whole as I faceplant into the ground.