Chapter 7: Trading Lives
1388 Words
The word trap still echoed in my head as I drifted down the hall.
My footsteps sounded too loud. Too sharp.
Every reflection I passed looked like Bella — golden hair, flawless skin, perfect posture — but none of it felt like me.
I wasn’t Bella.
I was Hope Turner.
And somehow, I was stuck in her body.
I needed proof.
I needed her.
The hallway buzzed faintly — laughter, footsteps, a teacher’s voice — all blending into static. My heart pounded as I scanned every corner, every face.
Where would she go?
If I were her — if I were still me — I’d be hiding.
Then it hit me.
The principal’s office. She’d probably gone there with Ethan after the fight.
I started up the stairs — then froze.
Through the window in the hallway, in the garden below, I saw her.
Sitting alone on a blue bench.
My breath hitched.
It was like seeing my own ghost.
I pushed through the door and stepped outside. The air smelled like wet grass and sun. My shoes crunched softly as I walked toward her.
She looked small from behind — the brown hoodie, the way she sat, knees close, head bowed. It was me.
“Hope,” I said quietly.
She lifted her head. Her eyes were red, her cheeks wet. When she saw me, she flinched.
“Wh-why are you doing this to me?” she whispered. “I know I don’t fit in, but I’m human too.”
She turned to leave.
“Wait—please.” I caught her wrist gently. “Hope,” I said again, “is that really your name?”
She stared like I’d lost my mind.
“Please just leave me alone!” she cried, pulling away.
“Hope, wait—”
She ran.
I chased after her.
By the time I reached the hallway, Ethan was already there — stepping between us like a wall. His eyes flashed, grey and furious. His lip was split.
I froze. Blood at the corner, faint bruise forming.
My chest tightened.
He looked different — older, sharper — but still Ethan.
The same boy who grew up beside me, who knew everything about my family, who never stopped protecting me no matter how many times I pushed him away.
He once said, “You don’t know how the rich work, Hope. Don’t worry, I’ll get that scholarship too and protect you.”
I hated him for it — for caring too much.
But now he was here.
And hurt.
Because of me.
“What do you want, Bella?” he snapped. “Haven’t you done enough? Don’t you ever get tired?”
“No—Ethan, listen. I’m not trying to hurt her.”
He scoffed. “Then what the hell are you trying to do?”
“I just needed to confirm something.”
He folded his arms. “What?”
My voice trembled. “Her last name. What’s her last name?”
He frowned, confused. “Turner. Does that answer your question?”
My breath hitched.
So she’s really me.
I swallowed. “And—your parents, what do they do?”
Ethan’s expression hardened. “What’s wrong with you, Bella? Trying to humiliate her again? Or are your friends filming this?”
“No! I swear, there’s no camera!”
I looked around desperately. “I just—”
“f**k off, Bella,” he cut in sharply. “Is this another one of your stupid games?”
My chest squeezed painfully. “Ethan, please. I mean no harm.”
“Then stay away from her!”
I hesitated. Then, quietly, “I’m sorry. For what Draven and Bianca did. It wasn’t right.”
I swallowed, my voice faltering. “And… Ethan—does it hurt?”
He frowned. “What?”
“Your lip,” I said softly.
I reached toward his lip before I could stop myself.
He flinched back, shoving my hand away. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
I froze. “I’m sorry—I didn’t mean—”
He glared at me, grey eyes sharp as a blade.
I turned before he could say anything else, walking past them both, heat burning behind my eyes.
It’s like staring into a mirror and seeing your reflection breathe on its own.
I needed answers.
And if she really was me, then her home — the Turners — would tell me everything.
---
The bell rang, loud and sharp, snapping me out of my thoughts.
“Bella!” Bianca’s voice sliced through the noise. She waved, strutting toward me with Zoey and Nalani in tow.
“Where have you been? Stefan said you left him behind.”
“Sorry,” I said quickly, forcing a smile. “I wasn’t feeling great.”
Bianca raised a brow. “You? Not feeling great? Thought you said you’re fine now.”
I shrugged. “Yeah, I am. Just tired. Look, I need to handle something real quick.”
“Handle what?” she pressed, stepping closer.
“Something urgent came up, Bianca. I promise I’ll call you, okay?”
Before she could answer, I turned and hurried off.
Behind me, Zoey whispered, “Don’t you think she’s acting weird today? Barely talked during lunch.”
Nalani sighed. “Probably wedding stress.”
Their laughter faded behind me as I walked out the gate.
Outside, I spotted Ethan and Hope ahead, boarding a bus together.
Without thinking, I slipped into my car and told my driver, “Follow that bus.”
The city rolled by in blurs of light and noise.
I kept my eyes on the bus ahead, heart pounding with every turn.
When it stopped, I told the driver to pull over a few meters behind.
Ethan and Hope stepped out together, talking quietly as they headed down a narrow street.
I got out too, ignoring the driver’s question.
“Stay here,” I said. “I won’t be long.”
The air was heavy, damp with the smell of rain. My shoes hit the cracked pavement as I followed them from a distance.
Each step made my chest tighten.
Then I saw the sign.
Schick Place.
My street.
My knees almost gave out.
They stopped in front of a small, peeling apartment building — the same one I’d always hated coming home to.
The door creaked open.
Mom — Linda Turner — came out, wiping her hands on her apron.
“Hope, dear, how was school today?” she said, smiling the same tired smile I’d grown up with. “I made your favorite.”
She wrapped Hope in a hug, like she was afraid she’d disappear.
“And Ethan, please join us for dinner.”
Ethan smiled faintly. “Mrs. Turner, I wish I could stay, but my mom’s heading to Texas tonight. I need to be home before she leaves.”
“Of course, dear. Send her my love,” Mom said warmly.
He waved goodbye and took the side road toward his house.
Mom and Hope went inside.
The door shut behind them.
I just stood there.
Everything in me went still — my breath, my thoughts, my pulse.
Then I saw him.
Dad.
Dragging his tool bag, eyes half-closed from exhaustion.
He walked right past me without even noticing me.
The same faded shirt. The same slump in his shoulders.
Nothing had changed.
They were still struggling. Still trying. Still losing.
And she — I — was living the life I’d always dreamed of.
A bitter laugh escaped my throat before I could stop it.
Funny.
I’d spent years wishing I could escape this family, this life.
I was wrong to worry.
Maybe this was better.
Maybe… this was a chance to live right.
I forced a smile, jaw tight.
“I’m glad I’m out,” I whispered. “This is what I always wanted.”
I turned back toward my car, blinking fast.
Each step felt heavier.
The driver opened the door, but I didn’t look at him.
“Take me home,” I said quietly.
As we pulled off, the image burned in my mind —
Mom’s tired smile.
Dad’s slumped shoulders.
Hope standing in the doorway, wearing my face.
And me —
a stranger in my own life.
- Writer
