Chapter 10 I’D WIN

Chapter 10 I’D WIN
“Iris,”

Someone was calling my name.

I frowned as my fingers brushed against leather, the low hum of an engine vibrating beneath me as I stirred.

A car.

An ambulance, maybe. Yet, it didn’t explain why I felt good. Lighter than I’ve ever felt in seven years.

I felt no pain and I’d have chalked it up to being in shock and numb, if not that I also felt pleasantly warm.

I took a breath and then another, my initial struggle to breathe nonexistent.

Wherever this was or whatever afterlife I seem to have entered, felt better than the life I’d just left. I was not surprised it had only taken seconds to win me over.

Anything was better than a cheating, abusive husband. Watching my company being bled dry and then sold off piece by piece. Or a sister who murdered me without hesitation.

I slowly owned my eyes. 

For a moment, I only stared ahead, disoriented by the familiar stretch of road beyond the windshield, by the muted daylight filtering through tinted glass.

Confusion crept in.

Had I really died? Was this paradise?

It wasn’t impossible. The universe owed me at least that much after the hell I’d survived. A quiet car ride and this strange, weightless calm didn’t seem like the worst way to spend eternity.

“Iris,” the driver said again.

I blinked. 

My breath hitched.

I knew that voice.

My gaze snapped to the front seat and the calm shattered as my heart lurched violently.

That was Mr. John, my father’s driver and my husband’s father.

Very much alive. Hands steady on the wheel. The same salt-and-pepper hair, the same warm creases around his eyes.

This wasn’t possible.

Unless… He’d somehow managed to work his way up the ranks and was now a divine chauffeur.

The thought was absurd, but my mind clung to it desperately. He had been a hard worker. Maybe heaven rewarded loyalty.

“Iris, you’re making me worried,” a voice murmured beside me.

My pulse spiked as I turned my head. 

My husband.

No. My Fiance. 

The solitaire diamond on my finger caught the light. A family heirloom he’d asked my father for. 

At the time, it’d seem like a thoughtful gesture but that was the first thing he sold immediately after we got married. 

Disgust curled in my stomach as I stared at the ring… then at him.

He was younger. Softer. His eyes still wore that deceptively warm expression when he looked at me. 

A sick twist settled in my stomach.

Of course. Even in death, I still couldn’t be free of him. He had to have follow me here too. My tormentor, a memento of all that I foolishly lost and the bane of my existence. 

Did they just let anyone into these divine car rides?

Except we were on our way to hell…

Mr. John cleared his throat. “We’re at the hospital, Miss.”

Collin leaned closer, crowding my space while I tried to disguise the sheer repulsion I felt by his mere proximity. His concern looked convincing. Even perfect.

“Iris are you alright?” He whispered. “You’re scaring me. You haven’t been eating or sleeping since your dad was admitted. It must be catching up to you.”

The words struck me like a slap.

I blinked.

Once.

Twice. 

That sentence, I’ve heard it before.

I froze as the memory surfaced. 

This exact faux concern. The time. It has happened before.

Slowly, I turned my head towards the window remembering that Mr. John had said we were in a hospital. 

City Hospital stood outside, tall, gray and painfully real.

In front of it was the same row of parked cars. Two ambulances. An elderly man  in a wheel chair conversing with his much younger daughter. A nurse stumbling, correcting herself, and walking on.

Every detail was identical.

My fingers curled into the fabric of my dress. 

White. The one my father had bought me. The one I wore the day after he was admitted.

I’d been here before.

This exact moment, people, place and things. I’ve seen them before. 

I opened my door, and stepped out on unsteady legs, suddenly feeling suffocated by the heated car I’d once appreciated when I just woke up. 

Cold air rushed over me, sharp and grounding.

Too grounding.

Everything felt solid. Real.

Collin followed, grabbing my jacket and reaching for my arms. “Iris, It’s cold—”

I shoved his hand away without thinking and hurried forward even as horror clawed its way up my throat as I slowly piece together the scene before me.

No. No, no, no.

I pinched my arm hard.  

Pain flared.

Real.

Why does everything from my memory of the day that changed my life forever, seven years ago feel so vivid, so alive?

This wasn’t heaven.

Paradise wouldn’t force me to relive the worst day of my life.

Unless this was hell.

Or maybe I was lying unconscious somewhere, trapped in a coma, condemned to suffer through this lucid dream of watching my father die while Collin (The real one) and my sister get away with everything they did to me.

My steps slowed.

What was happening? Why was I seeing and experiencing all this again? 

And most importantly why did it feel so real?

If this wasn’t hell, was I supposed to believe that somehow, not only was I saved from dying or being dead, I was seven years back to the past?

Did I just time travel?

Or have I finally hit rock bottom and I was going insane?

Was I losing my mind or had something, someone, heard my final plea to survive?

Was this… a second chance?

My fingers trembled as they curled into fists.

In my first life, I’d been gentle. Trusting. Blind.

I’d handed my future to my husband and smiled when he drove the knife in. 

Not this time.

This time, I’d see them coming.

This time, I’d win. 

A soft laugh escaped my lips and then another, light disbelieving.

Something cold brushed my hair.

I tilted my head back.

Snow.

I closed my eyes as flakes kissed my skin, and laughter bubbled up from deep in my chest. I spun, arms lifting, letting the cold bite pleasantly as snow clung to my hair and dress.

I felt alive.

“Hey, Iris,” Collin hurried towards me, his face flushed with alarm and embarrassment. “What are you doing?” He glances around furtively. “People are staring.”

Let them.

I spun past him.

This wasn’t hell.

It was an opportunity.

This was my shot to reclaim the life that had been stolen from me, and this time, I would be the one to make them suffer.

I was taking it all.