I saw a younger Heather Carter standing by the river near our old house, muttering something about reincarnation.
Before I could make out the words, a cold wind blew through, and the scene shifted.
Next thing I knew, I was back in that rundown house, five years old, asleep in bed.
When the wind died down, Heather suddenly appeared at my bedside. While I was still out cold, she grabbed my throat with her scarlet-painted nails, her face twisted in fury.
"Why wasn't it you who died? You're a jinx—you killed him and ruined my whole life. Just die already!"
My tiny face turned red and blue as I cried my lungs out. There was pure confusion in my teary eyes, like I couldn’t understand why Mom was doing this to me.
And Grandma? She just stood there like a statue, expressionless
