RE-MADE

THE STAGE IS SET

The morning sun streamed through the window, catching in the dark waves of Kiera's hair and setting it ablaze. She blinked slowly as the light kissed her eyelids, a stark contrast to the cold stillness inside her.

She sat up, her movements graceful and deliberate. Her fingers rose to trace the smooth, unbroken skin of her face, a dark smile finally escaping her lips as she whispered into the silent room, "Looks like it's another day, huh?"

After her morning routine, she stood before her closet. Her hand bypassed the dull, shapeless gowns of her past self and selected a short, elegant dark blue dress. She fastened a single, simple necklace around her throat. The girl in the mirror was no longer a shadow. She was a statement.

Descending the stairs, she felt the shift in the air before she heard the silence. The clatter of cutlery stilled. The servants' eyes, usually averted, widened with unmasked awe. She saw the reflection of her new self in their gazes.

Eleanor’s smile froze, her eyes narrowing into shards of ice before flooding with pure, unadulterated jealousy. Liliana’s perfectly crafted expression of morning sweetness soured in an instant, her lips thinning into a jealous line.

Her father lowered his newspaper. For a single, unguarded moment, his eyes held not anger, but a jolt of stunned confusion—as if he was seeing a ghost, or perhaps, for the first time, seeing her. Then, as if embarrassed, he swiftly raised the paper again, erecting a wall of printed words between them.

Eleanor was the first to break, her voice saccharine sweet. "Ah, there you are, Kiera! We've been waiting to eat together before you and your sister leave for school. Come, have a seat."

"But, Mom!" Liliana’s whine was a masterpiece of fake concern. "We'll be late! I have a perfect attendance record to keep..." She paused, casting a saccharine glance at Kiera. "...but if it's for sis, I don't mind being late today."

A low, disapproving grunt came from behind the newspaper.

Right on cue.

Her father slammed the paper onto the table. The fine china rattled. "What insolence!" he boomed, his finger pointing like an accusation. "Is this how it's been? You lazing about, making everyone wait on you? When will you learn responsibility? When will you be more like your sister?"

"My love, please," Eleanor simpered, placing a restraining hand on his arm that was anything but gentle. "Your blood pressure. I'm sure Kiera is capable of going to school without breakfast. She can find something for herself on the way." Her gaze sliced back to Kiera, a silent command disguised as a question. "Right?"

Kiera had been standing perfectly still, a spectator to the familiar play. She let the silence stretch, savoring the tension. Then, she smiled. It wasn't the timid, apologetic curve of her past. It was a small, cold, direct smile aimed straight at Eleanor.

"Right," Kiera said, her voice unnervingly calm.

She didn't look at her father. She didn't acknowledge Liliana's triumphant smirk. Instead, she walked to the fruit bowl at the center of the table. Her fingers closed around a single, perfect, crimson apple. She held it up, a silent toast to their performance, and took a deliberate, echoing bite. The crisp sound was the only noise in the dead silence.

"Don't want to ruin Liliana's perfect attendance," she said, the words clear around the bite of fruit. "I'll see myself out."

She turned, the taste of the apple sweet and sharp on her tongue—a taste of defiance, and a reminder of a different kind of forbidden knowledge.

Eleanor and Liliana exchanged a look of sheer, frustrated fury. Liliana stormed out after her, the picture of wounded grace crumbling.

But on the porch, Liliana's scowl vanished, replaced by a dazzling smile as Nathan's BMW purred up the driveway. She transformed, rushing down the steps as if pulled by a magnet.

Kiera watched from the doorway, the cold smile returning to her lips. The apple was half-eaten in her hand.

"Well," she murmured to the morning air. "Let the day officially begin."

The car stopped. Liliana yanked the passenger door open and slid in, claiming her prize.

Nathan's head turned. His eyes, those familiar brown eyes that had once held fake promises, now widened in pure, unguarded shock as they landed on Kiera. "...Wow," he breathed, the word slipping out before he could cage it.

Kiera simply raised one eyebrow, her expression unchanging. See something you like? Or something you lost?

Liliana scowled and nudged him hard. "Nathan! Let's go."

He flinched, his face hardening into the bored mask she remembered. "Hop in," he said, his voice flat.

Liliana turned a sickly-sweet gaze on Kiera. "You don't mind the back, do you, sis? We are running late, after all."

Kiera's smile was a thing of beauty and menace. Ah, there it is. The same old script.

"Of course I do,"she said, her voice like polished steel. "He is my fiancé, after all. It's my right to sit next to him, don't you think?" She paused, letting the uncomfortable truth hang between them. "But since you're my dear sister... I'll allow it this once. No hard feelings, right?"

The two of them stared, utterly disarmed. Their script had no lines for this. Without waiting for a stumbling reply, Kiera slid gracefully into the back seat, the queen taking her strategic position.

The drive was a mausoleum of silence. Nathan's eyes kept flicking to hers in the rearview mirror. She held his gaze each time, her own expression unreadable, until Liliana's possessive hand on his thigh forced him to look away.

When they arrived at the grand iron gates of the school, Kiera was out of the car before the engine fully settled, not giving Nathan the chance to play the gentleman. She shut the door with a soft, definitive click.

She didn't look back.

left behind: two people, sitting in a stunned silence, staring at the ghost of the girl they had killed, who was now very, very alive.

"Lilian..."