Then it hit me. He hadn’t said "Elizabeth" He’d said, “Britta.”
My stomach dropped. I patted the ribbon in my pocket, and my heart started to race. It wasn’t even mine…
Nor was the calm I was desperately trying to hold onto.
twelve
Iscanned my ticket: middle seat, left side of row twenty-two. Unfortunate. Twenty-two wasn’t abadnumber, exactly. It was just the age I’d been when I was cursed.
Ironically, it was supposed to symbolize dreams coming true. Some even said it marked the start of a twin flame journey.
I didn’t buy any of it.
Still, I let Death’s number keep me up at night and my mother’s windchimes get under my skin. So when I sat down, the number sat with me, quiet and unwelcome.
Phillips and Smith were only a few rows behind me, and Phillips made sure to give me an awkward thumbs up on his way past. Smith elbowed him with an embarrassed eye roll. Harmless as they may be, Phillip’s gentle flirting did nothing to quench my dry mouth or the headache building.
An elderly woman sat by the window, already asleep, and the young man in the aisle seat gave me a lust-filled grin as I squeezed past his knees to take the middle.
I resisted the urge to "accidentally" elbow him when he greeted me with a “Hi, beautiful,” and instead offered a shallow smile.
Any hope of sleeping through this five-hour flight had died the moment Phillips and Smith approached me. I wouldn’t be able to let my guard down—not in a packed metal tube thirty thousand feet in the air.
“What brings you to Boston?” my seat partner asked, nudging me in the side.
Great. Just my luck.
I groaned, giving him a short answer, hoping my tone would convey that I’d kindly appreciate for him to back the hell off. “Business.”
“Alright, alright, alright,” he chuckled.
This time, I rolled my eyes.
“Me—” he leaned in, his breath a disturbing blend of salami and coffee. “I’m going for pleasure.”
“That’s nice,” I said, leaning my head back against the seat. Maybe if I pretended to sleep, he’d take the hint.
To his credit, it worked for a while. We made it through takeoff in silence, and he spent the first hour scrolling on his phone. I didn’t sleep, but it was enough. I let the steady hum of the engines muffle my thoughts, letting it all fade into white noise.
It wasn’t death I feared. At certain points in my life, I’d even welcomed the idea, arms wide, heart open. But when you’re immortal, there are far worse things than the grave.
Brett suddenly gasped, blinding me with his phone’s screen as he shoved it inches from my face.
“Do you have a twin, Britta?” he asked, far too loud for the enclosed cabin.
It was a news article.
DEAD WOMAN, MISSING NANNY: CHILLING SCENE AT CHILDREN'S HOSPITAL
My heart fell. Wrestling the phone from his hands, I scrolled through the article.
“Hey—!”
But I wasn’t listening.The article was already burned into my brain.
Security footage captured a woman leaving the scene. Authorities are asking for the public’s help in identifying her.
“She looks just like you!”
