When Ivy Kline was fifteen, she and her little brother spiked a terrifying fever—104°F and climbing. Their parents had only three fever pills left. They gave them to Ivy. Micah survived the night without medication, but he never came back the same. Once the bright, gentle boy everyone adored, he grew into the quiet shadow in the corner, the kid teachers forgot and bullies loved to torment. At home, their father’s rage and their mother’s silence carved deeper cracks through the family. Ten years later, Ivy wakes up tied to a bed, her parents already dead on the living room floor. Micah, all soft voice and bloodshot eyes, presses a knife to her throat and whispers, “I gave you the pills. Why did you leave me?” She dies with his name on her lips. Then she blinks—and opens her eyes back in her childhood bedroom, burning up with fever. Her parents are younger. The news still talks about lockdowns and panic. The bottle on the nightstand still has three pills. This time, Ivy shoves the medicine into Micah’s mouth. Determined to save everyone, she becomes the perfect sister: tutoring Micah, shielding him from bullies, begging their father to stop, planning a future where they both escape their small-town nightmare. For a while, it even works. Micah gets into her high school. A reformed bad boy named Rowan Maddox starts hanging around Ivy. Her life looks almost normal. Until a viral video shows Micah punching Rowan in front of Ivy’s college gates—and the internet decides she’s the villain: the “slutty sister,” the girl caught between two boys, the face of campus gossip. While Ivy’s reputation burns, old victims crawl out of the past. The boys who tormented her in vocational school. The rich fiancé she was supposed to marry in “another life.” The classmates Micah once supposedly massacred. One by one, they step out of the shadows with a shared obsession: They all remember dying. They all remember Micah killing them. And they all want revenge. Cornered in a grim roadside hotel, Ivy watches her brother forced to his knees, treated like an animal for crimes he hasn’t committed in this timeline. To save her, Micah picks up the same knife that once slit her throat. Only this time, the blood that spills isn’t hers. When the rain finally comes and washes the red from the pavement, Ivy realizes something too late: Every story can be told two ways. In Micah’s version, he’s the monster. In Ivy’s version, she’s the hero. And in the police report, there’s only one undeniable fact— no one walks away clean.