Chapter 3

Chloe tilted her head. “I need you to do something for me.”

I asked cautiously, “Why me?”

“You’re the smartest of everyone who died around the same time as me. The Reaper said I could only choose someone from that group.”

Of course, I’m smart. No wonder she picked me.

“Did the Reaper say I could go back to my own body?”

Chloe shook her head. “You died in a plane crash. The wreckage was so bad it took a man named Ethan Clint and his team a long time to find your remains.”

“Ethan Clint?”

Chloe’s eyes sparkled with curiosity. “Is he your boyfriend?”

I scowled and whispered, “No, he’s the guy you mentioned earlier—the one everyone treats with respect.”

I wanted to ask about her scars and why she’d taken her life, but before I could speak, she changed the subject again, gossiping.

“I heard someone traded twenty years of their life to bring you back,” she said, resting her head on her hand. “Do you know who?”

I shook my head. “Do you?”

She also shook her head. “You’re lucky. Someone gave up a lot for you.”

I stood there, frozen. I didn’t have anyone close enough to do that. Who could possibly make such a huge sacrifice for me?

Suddenly, my stomach growled loudly, and Chloe laughed.

“The kitchen’s downstairs.”

I headed down and grabbed a carton of milk from the fridge.

Chloe floated behind me and motioned for me to look at the staircase.

I glanced up and saw a boy standing there in pajamas.

Chloe pointed at him. “Send Ricky Shane to the afterlife to be with me, and you can keep this body.”

So, the boy who had grabbed me earlier was Ricky Shane.

He stood still at the top of the stairs, his gaze icy and piercing. After a moment of silence, I broke eye contact and continued drinking my milk. Ricky turned and went back upstairs.

I wiped my nose and tried to reason with Chloe. “Murder’s illegal. Even if I get your body, I’ll end up spending my life in prison. And prison uniforms are ugly—they don’t suit me.”

Chloe’s lashes trembled. “He did this to me,” she whispered. “He violated me.”

My grip on the milk carton tightened.

She added softly, “Many times.”