Reborn In a Murderer’s Embrace

“Do you believe in souls, Stella?” I asked, my gaze fixed on her, uncertain if she would take my claim seriously. “It’s me, Phoebe.”

Stella’s shock was palpable. She covered her mouth with her hand, her eyes darting around, searching for an explanation.

There was a long silence.

My story must have seemed far–fetched, even ludicrous.

“What are you trying to pull?” she finally asked, furrowing her brow, irritation creeping into her voice. “How could you know all that? Are you trying to impersonate Phoebe? Do you take me for a fool?” This text is property of Nô/velD/rama.Org.

Her wary eyes scrutinized me as if I were a suspect in a crime or an accomplice.

And who could blame her? If someone suddenly claimed to be your dearly departed friend, you’d be skeptical, too.

“Easy, easy.” I quickly said, gesturing for her to calm down.

Stella paused, her suspicion only growing. She must have been wondering how I knew so many intimate details about Phoebe.

“You think I’m an accomplice, don’t you? That I did something to Phoebe before she passed. forced her to spill your secrets so I could deceive you?” I voiced Stella’s doubts.

She remained silent, still on guard.

“Okay, then ask me something. Something only you and Phoebe would know. She couldn’t have told all of her secrets. I really am Phoebe.” I explained, raising my hands in a gesture of peace.

Stella’s eyes began to well up, perhaps hoping against hope that I was indeed Phoebe.

But we were both skeptics, non–believers in reincarnation or life after death. The whole idea was straight out of a soap opera.

“Phoebe left some bank cards with me,” Stella probed, watching me carefully.

“Two cards,” I replied earnestly. “One for the scholarship funds, another for my paycheck. There’s over thirty grand in the scholarship account, and I’ve saved up ten grand in the other for Dexter and Melody’s wedding gift. Oh, and there’s our joint account for the kids at the orphanage.”

I had once wished Dexter and Melody a lifetime of happiness. Unfortunately, they wanted me dead.

Just mentioning Dexter and Melody brought a flash of hatred to my eyes. Stella spoke again, “Phoebe had some cosmetic work done. What was it?”

13:13

This accusation made me bristle. No naturally beautiful girl likes to be accused of having work done. “Why would I need plastic surgery? No, I haven’t had anything done.”

“Wrong answer. I took her to get eyelash extensions.” Stella countered with a dismissive wave of her hand.

I was at a loss for words. “Stella, you’re counting eyelash extensions as plastic surgery? The eyelash extensions of that beauty salon you took me to weren’t even as long as my eyelashes! And because of

that, my eyelashes fell into my eye, and I even got conjunctivitis!”

Stella’s eyes began to flicker. “Which spa, where?”

“Trinity Avenue, BeautySky Spa, I think? The salesperson kept complimenting me the moment walked in, saying how pretty I was and that I should get semi–permanent eyeliner or eyebrows so I wouldn’t need makeup anymore.”

Stella tightened her grip on her water glass and then asked, “Did Phoebe love Dexter?”

I caught my breath before answering, each word heavy with emotion. “I don’t love Dexter anymore. If I do, all the pain I endured would be my own fault.”

Connection to

Stella turned away, wiping away a tear. “I’ll concede that you might have some Phoebe, but I don’t believe you are her. What do you want? Just be straight with me.”

“It was Melody… she killed me,” I started, then quickly corrected, “Melody killed Phoebe. She told Phoebe to go to Tangle Lane on the 15th and didn’t tell anyone else. She lured Phoebe there, right into the hands of the murderer.”

Stella whirled around, fixing her eyes on me. “Do you have any proof?”

I shook my head regretfully. “I don’t have any hard evidence, but… Phoebe’s phone has recordings of her conversations with Melody. Didn’t the police recover the data?”

Stella frowned. “Data recovery is a complicated process. It’s not that simple, and it takes time.“