Chapter 1

Chapter 1

The suffocating feeling gradually faded, and my body felt light as a feather.

When I opened my eyes again, rows of neatly arranged desks came into view. The wind fluttered the white curtains by the window, and a middle school physics circuit diagram was drawn on the dark green blackboard.

I grabbed a mirror from the desk next to me and stared at the reflection. Thin, sallow skin, single eyelids, and thick-rimmed glasses—it was me, as a child.

“ What year, month, and day is it now?” I blurted out, turning to the girl beside me.

She snatched the mirror from my hand and wiped it repeatedly with a tissue.

“Nina Miller, have you lost your mind?” she snapped, looking at me with disgust.

I noticed a phone in her desk drawer, reached for it, and flipped open the lid.

The date displayed was May 23, 2014?

This was the day I tried to kill myself—and also the day Old Miller left me forever.

I set the phone back on the desk and slapped myself hard twice.

The girl was shocked, too scared to take her phone back. She rushed straight to the teacher’s office.

The stinging pain on my cheeks was real, sharp and clear. My hands trembled.

Everything felt so vivid—so what had happened to me before? Was it all just a dream?

There was no time to overthink, no courage to dwell on it. In my memories, Old Miller died on this very day.

Only one thought burned in my mind: I had to find him, and fast.

I slung my schoolbag over my shoulder, turned, and walked out of the classroom. At the stairs, I ran into the girl and our homeroom teacher.

“Nina Miller, you actually bullied a classmate! I’m calling your parents right now,” the teacher fumed.

I ignored her and kept walking down the stairs.

“Stop right there! Didn’t you hear me talking to you?” she shouted.

Suddenly, a memory flashed back: when I was being bullied at school, this same teacher had told me, “Why is it only you getting bullied if there are so many students? I can’t handle this—you need to look for the problem in yourself.”

I fumbled for my water bottle from the side pocket of my bag, twisted off the cap quickly, and splashed the water in her face.

“Go to hell—you don’t deserve to be a teacher,” I spat.

Without another glance, I ran to the school’s back wall. Clinging to the metal bars of a trampoline, I struggled to climb over.