My Identity Was Stolen

From the back cover

The last thing I felt was the pillow smothering my face, the cheap floral scent filling my lungs as my struggles grew weaker.

Through the ringing in my ears, I heard Ms. Davis' s chilling hiss: "You crazy girl, how dare you disrupt the young lady' s party! I' ll kill you!"

She wasn' t lying. My life, so bright just hours before, was ending in a dark, dusty storage room.

It all began on my graduation day, Sarah Miller, the valedictorian, standing on stage. But when I arrived at my family home for the lavish celebration, the doors were shut, my key wouldn' t turn.

Inside, through the window, I saw Emily Davis, my guardian' s daughter, wearing my dress, accepting congratulations from my friends, being called by my name.

A cold wave of nausea washed over me. I pounded on the door, screaming, "Let me in! I' m Sarah Miller! That' s an imposter!"

No one believed me. They saw a frantic, disheveled girl and a poised, elegant young woman inside. Ms. Davis slapped me, shrieking, "How dare you disrupt the young lady' s party! I' ll kill you!"

They dragged me away, threw me into a windowless storage room, and locked me in. Hours later, Ms. Davis returned with a pillow.

"You just couldn' t leave it alone, could you?" she whispered. "You make too much noise."

Then, she pushed it down.

My consciousness dissolved into suffocating blackness.

Then, I gasped, shooting upright. Sunlight streamed through a familiar window. I was in my bed, in my room at the Davis house.

My heart pounded. The floral scent was gone. No pain, no darkness.

My phone rang, a shrill, insistent sound. The screen lit up with a date. It was the day my college admission results were announced.

I wasn' t dead. I was back.