Chapter 1: Ashes and Echoes

Before the SATs, my childhood sweetheart fell for a troublemaker from the football team. I still remember the echo of sneakers squeaking on linoleum, the cafeteria reeking of tater tots and cheap cologne, all of it haunted by her laughter. That was before she started skipping class for him, let her grades nosedive, and even gave him her virginity.

I couldn't watch her crash and burn any longer. I told her parents everything. The guilt pressed down on me for weeks, thick as August humidity in a gym locker room.

Everything blew up—Jason got beaten half to death by his own dad and then just vanished. News spread through town like wildfire. People whispered about it at the grocery store checkout, or from the stands at Friday night football games.

Years later, at our wedding, my childhood sweetheart learned of Jason's death and set our bridal suite on fire. The smoke alarm screamed overhead, drowning out the sound of our guests pounding on the locked door. The bitter tang of smoke stung my throat, and through the haze, her voice cut like a knife.

"You’re the one who killed him. It should be him next to me, not you. You stole everything from us. Go to hell and pay for your sins."

The roaring flames lit up her twisted face. The orange and blue licked the wallpaper, casting jagged shadows across the ruined cake and her wedding dress.

When I opened my eyes again, the world spun, colors sharpening around me. I was back in my junior year of high school. The scent of cheap cologne and mechanical pencil lead filled the air.