Campus Queen? She's Beyond Saving! Chapter 1

Trent Mercer, my rich-kid roommate, stumbled through the door late at night. He was half-dragging Raven Cross, the campus queen, who had passed out cold.

"Hey, Skye," Trent sneered, reeking of cheap tequila, "This one's a real catch. I'm feeling generous, so you get first dibs."

I turned down my three roommates’ “generous offer.” Instead, I quietly set up a hidden camera, angling it directly toward the bed.

This was my third life, after all.

In my first life, I played the hero. I stepped in and saved Raven, only for her to turn around and accuse me of sexual assault. I died in prison long before I ever saw my release date.

In my second life, I turned a blind eye. I ignored them and went straight to sleep. The next morning, Raven pinned the crime on me anyway.

Right before I died, she finally told me the truth. Of the three guys involved, one had a family too powerful to touch, while another was her secret crush. Trent used me as the scapegoat, clearing his name and securing an Ivy League spot.

This was my third time around. It was time to settle the score.

* * *

At eight o'clock in the evening, Julius Knox, the campus heartthrob, and Brock Wilder, the dorm bully, were playing video games in our room. Staring at the two of them, the sudden realization hit me like a physical blow. I was back at the beginning.

Right at this exact moment, I was supposed to be wiping the server files. The server housed years of encrypted group chats between my three roommates, filled with dark, twisted secrets that could destroy them if exposed to the light of day.

Glancing at the clock, I knew Trent Mercer would be back any second. I quickly aborted the deletion process and changed the command to migrate all the data to my private drive instead.

Next, I pulled out the video camera I had borrowed from the AV club. While Julius and Brock were glued to the screen, I set it up on a shelf, angled it toward my bed, and disguised it behind a stack of textbooks.

Ten minutes later, the dorm door kicked open, letting in a reek of cheap booze.

Trent shuffled into the room, half-carrying a girl before shoving her onto my bed near the entrance.

I looked over, and my chest tightened. Raven Cross, the campus queen. The girl who ruined my life twice over.

She was completely wasted, unable to even hold herself upright, though a faint flicker of consciousness remained. Her hands twitched in weak resistance, a muted murmur slipping past her lips.

"No... Let me go..."

Trent had an unlit cigarette dangling from his mouth. Ignoring her entirely, he snapped his fingers at the other two.

"Listen up, boys. Come check this out. I brought you guys a present."

Brock sprinted over to Raven, roughly tossing a thick strand of hair out of her face. He let out a loud, breathless laugh, looking up at Trent. "Bro, you’re insane! She’s gorgeous. Look at those curves!"

Julius walked over next, letting out a sharp gasp. "Wait, Raven? As in the queen bee of campus? Man, the girl you were bragging about yesterday was her?"

Trent smirked, and tapped Raven across the cheek twice. "What do you think? I keep my promises, don't I? Tonight, we have some real fun."

Right as Trent tapped Raven’s face, her head slumped toward my direction. She forced her eyelids open, squinting at me as if I were her absolute last lifeline.

"Help me..." she whispered.

My heart dropped into my stomach. In my first life, those exact two words signed my death warrant.

I had saved Raven, paid for her hotel room out of my own pocket, and she rewarded my kindness by testifying to the police that I assaulted her in that room.

In my second life, I didn't lift a single finger, yet she pinned the crime on me anyway.

This third time around, I honestly wouldn't care if they tore her apart right in front of me.

I turned back to my monitor. The progress bar hit a hundred percent; the data migration was complete. Relief washed over me. This data was my ultimate bargaining chip.

My three roommates were ruthless, predatory scumbags who used encrypted channels to say things too toxic for normal apps.

Trent knew I was the top coder in our department, so he paid me two thousand dollars to build a custom private server for their chat logs.

Yesterday, he handed me another grand, saying, "Graduation is around the corner. Go ahead and wipe the old records. I set up a new server address, so you won't need to do maintenance for us anymore. Appreciate the hard work."

At the time, I was relieved to wash my hands of their filth, but now, paranoia gnawed at my brain.

"Yo, Skye Sinclair, what are you obsessing over?" Trent called out, staring me down, "We've been bros for four years. I'm not gonna leave you out. We’re letting you go first, man. What do you say?"

All three of them locked their eyes on me, waiting for my answer.