01

On the day I started grad school, my roommate Belinda Abbott gave me a health-screening card.

"These days they make everyone do a special infectious-disease screening before enrolling," she said. "Josephine Pruitt, I know money's tight at home, so think of this card as a little welcome gift from me."

My eyes went hot on the spot, and I waved my hands, saying I couldn't take it.

But she pushed the card straight into my pocket, smiled, and patted my shoulder. "It's just a screening card. My dad's company hands them out as a perk. If it sits there it'll only expire and go to waste."

I was moved half to tears, and that afternoon I went to the clinic at the address on the card.

But the day my results came back, I was strapped to an operating table.

That was when I learned that Belinda had never meant any kindness. She'd had her eye on my kidney all along.

In the end I died on that cold operating table.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day I reported for grad school.

Listening to Belinda repeat the exact same lines from my last life, I smiled and took the health-screening card.

Then, right in front of her, I dialed the police. "Hi, someone's trying to cut out my kidney. Please send officers right away."

1

The moment the call connected, the smile froze on Belinda's face.

She lunged for my phone, her voice pitching up. "Josephine, are you insane? What kind of joke is this? Hang up, now!"

I twisted away, pressed the phone hard against my ear, and clearly gave them our dorm address, along with the name of that private clinic printed on the card.

Before I hung up, the dispatcher told me a patrol car would be there in five minutes, and to keep an eye on the suspect while staying safe myself.

I thanked them with a smile, slid the phone back into my pocket, and turned to Belinda with a cold smile.

"You heard that, Belinda. The police are on their way. You're not getting out of this."

Under my stare she couldn't help backing up half a step, forcing herself to sound calm. "Josephine, are you done making a scene? I gave you a screening card out of the goodness of my heart, and this is how you slander me? Have you lost every shred of conscience?"

I pulled over a chair, sat down, and spoke slowly. "That clinic does transplant matching. It doesn't do routine screenings at all. Whether this is a screening card or a death sentence, I think you know perfectly well."

Belinda's eyes flickered, and her voice shot up. "What are you talking about! That place is obviously a screening center... death sentence, what... what nonsense are you spouting."

"I'm spouting nonsense?" I stood and walked toward her, step by step, and gave a cold little laugh.

"Fine. When the police get here, they can look into who owns that clinic. And then look into a certain someone's medical records. Then we'll see whether I'm spouting nonsense."

In my last life, after they took my kidney and dumped me in a mass grave, Belinda had said to the surgeon, offhand, while they cleared out my things, "I was actually worried she wouldn't come. Never thought some girl fresh out of the sticks would have zero suspicion. Hand her a screening card and she walks right in." She'd said it as lightly as stepping on an ant, and until the moment I died, that cold laugh had drifted in my ears.

Given a second chance, if I didn't send her to hell, I'd be wasting the gift heaven had handed me.

Belinda's lips trembled hard. She yanked the door open and bolted for the stairs.

I'd known she would run. One hook of my foot and she went down.

Her knees hit the tile, and blood welled up at once.

She lifted her head and cried out to the students passing by. "Stop her! She's crazy! She's going to kill someone!"

A few of the new arrivals stopped, glancing at me, hesitating.

I pulled out my phone and gave it a little wave. "I've already called the police. She's suspected of trafficking organs. Anyone who lets her go is an accomplice."

The moment I said it, no one dared move. A couple of them quietly took out their phones and started filming.

Belinda still tried to run.

And then the sirens came wailing in from the school gate.

2

By the time two officers came up, Belinda had already gone boneless, slumped like she couldn't hold herself upright.

As they hauled her away, she twisted her head back and spat out one line: "Josephine, you'll regret this. Even if I go down, don't think you'll get off easy!"

I smiled and gave her a little wave. "Don't worry. I'm not the one who's going to regret anything. And I'm going to live very well."

After the officers took Belinda off, campus security came over to ask what had happened.

I handed the health-screening card to the security office and told the officer everything, start to finish, about how Belinda had wanted to cut out my kidney.

The security officer went pale the moment he heard it, a cold sweat breaking over him.

He rushed off to coordinate with the police.

By then the other girls from the dorm had come too, hovering, looking like they wanted to say something but didn't dare.

I ignored them. I just quietly made up my bed, took my meal card, and headed to the dining hall to eat.

Reborn or not, I needed a full stomach before I'd have the energy to take my revenge.

As for the other accomplices, I had all the time in the world to play with them, nice and slow.

I'd already died once. Nothing frightened me anymore.

In this life, I lived by a single rule.

Anyone who came after me, I'd throw in a hole and bury.

3

The dining hall smelled of hot food.

I got a plate, one meat and one vegetable, and found a seat by the window.

Then a man's voice, low and smooth, came from right above me.

"Excuse me. Do you mind if I sit here?"

I looked up and ran straight into a pair of smiling, peach-blossom eyes.

The man wore a light gray shirt, tailored to fit.

Thin-framed glasses sat on the bridge of his nose. He looked gentle, scholarly.

But the instant I saw his face clearly, a cold sweat broke over me.

I never imagined Harold Delgado would come straight to me.

He was Belinda's cousin, and the real boss behind the organ-trafficking ring.

In my past life, I'd seen him once, right as I was being pushed off the operating table.

He'd strolled in through the doors then, unhurried, his tone just as gentle as it was now.

Smiling, he'd said to Belinda, "You've worked hard, Bella. The kidney didn't reject. Once Grandfather wakes, I'll tell him to send you to America to study. You won't have to touch these dirty jobs anymore..."

That was when I finally understood.

Belinda's grandfather had been diagnosed with kidney failure long ago, but they'd never found a matching kidney.

So they'd cast a wide net, handing out free health-screening cards to girls of the right age everywhere, quietly running them through tissue-matching.

Yet after years of trying, they still hadn't found a kidney that matched.

To keep him alive, and to raise enough money to keep this vicious plan going, they'd turned to trafficking organs.

They hadn't set their sights on me overnight.

It had been planned well in advance.

Because their targets were students like me. Poor, no family behind them.

If anything went wrong, they could easily cut ties.

After all, on paper, I'd signed the surgical consent form myself.

But I honestly hadn't expected that the moment I dealt with Belinda, the real one would deliver himself right to my table.

I forced down the killing urge churning inside me and pulled up a faint smile. "It's free. Sit."

"Great, thanks." Harold thanked me, pulled out the chair, and sat down across from me.

Then, as if in passing, he asked, "You look like you've run into some trouble. I just heard someone say you accused your roommate of trafficking organs. Is that true?"

Inside I was sneering, but on my face I let a look of shaken, wronged fear show.

"I didn't accuse her of anything. That card she gave me was for a private clinic called Kindred Care. That place doesn't even have a license for routine check-ups. It does organ transplants. If she wasn't after my kidney, why would she give me a card for a place like that?"

Harold's hand paused on his spoon. When he lifted his eyes to me, those peach-blossom eyes held exactly the right amount of surprise and sympathy. "There are people like that? Truly, you can know a face and never know the heart."

Watching Harold put on a show in front of me, I laughed to myself.

Acting like that, it was almost a shame he wasn't onstage.

Then I let my voice go small and wounded. "I know. I couldn't believe it either. When she gave me that card I was so touched. I thought she was such a good person... I never imagined..."

I paused there.

Then lifted my eyes to him and asked, "Oh, that's right. Do you know Belinda?"

03

4

"Belinda? I don't know her." Harold shook his head, his face arranged into just the right amount of confusion.

"I'm a second-year in the med school. I don't really cross paths with students from other departments. I only heard about this a minute ago, standing outside the dining hall when the advisor was going on about it."

He said it easily, and even reached over to hand me a napkin.

"Try not to worry too much. You already reported it, right? They'll get to the bottom of it. And if people start talking behind your back, don't take it to heart. The truth speaks for itself."

Watching Harold play the picture of righteous concern, I gripped that napkin with its faint scent of cedar cologne, my nails almost digging into my palm.

I hadn't expected him to be shameless enough to say something like that.

But to send him to hell too,

I could only crush the anger down and keep playing along.

I sniffed and put on the look of someone still shaken. "Thank you, senior. You're so kind. When Belinda ran, I tried to stop her, and my legs are still weak from it. Everyone thinks I'm crazy. At least you believe me."

"If it were me in that spot, I'd probably be more rattled than you." Harold smiled and slid over a cup of iced orange juice he'd just bought.

"It's hot out. Have something cold, calm down a little. If you ever run into trouble on campus, come find me. I'm Harold."

I wrapped my hands around the cup and put on a moved expression. "Thank you, Harold. You're really too kind."

I softened my voice on purpose, even let a little catch of tears into it.

Seeing me like that, the wariness in his eyes thinned a little more.

He'd already decided that I'd only stumbled into wrecking Belinda's plan by accident.

Everything else, I knew nothing about.

He smiled again. "It's nothing. We're all students here. Helping each other out is only right."

He chatted with me about a couple of harmless bits of campus gossip, then picked up his tray and left first.

On his way out he made a point of telling me again that if anyone gave me trouble, I could come to the med school and find him anytime.

The moment Harold's back disappeared out the dining hall doors, I poured that orange juice straight into the slop bucket beside me.

I wasn't about to drink anything he handed me. Who knew whether he'd slipped in something to muddle my head.

Full and satisfied, I made my way back to the dorm at an easy pace.

My other two roommates were named Patricia Chavez and Margery Finch.

In my last life, both of them had taken payoffs from Belinda.

After I went missing, when my family came to the school looking for me,

the two of them swore up and down that I'd run off with some dyed-blond boy from off campus.

So even years after I was dead, my case was still handled as a disappearance.

When I walked in, they were sitting on their beds whispering to each other.

The second they saw me come in, they clammed up, eyes darting away.

I couldn't be bothered to waste words on them. I'd settle every account, one at a time.

I just grabbed my thermos and headed to the water room to fill it.

But I'd barely reached the corner of the hallway when I heard Patricia making a call in a hushed voice.

I quickly eased back out of sight.

"Yeah, Josephine's back. Nothing off about her, she just ignored us. Okay, got it. If anything comes up, I'll let you know."

Hearing Patricia's exchange with whoever was on the other end, I couldn't help smiling.

Just as I thought. These two were in on it too.

In that case, don't blame me for burying you all together.