My Best Friend Falsely Accused Me of Bombing The School

The first thing I did after waking up was utterly unthinkable—I stormed to the podium in my classroom and punched my homeroom teacher square in the face. The fact that she also happened to be my mother didn’t deter me in the slightest. Gasps rippled through the room, but no one dared to move. As if possessed, I turned my sights on my childhood best friend, Agnes. Before anyone could process what was happening, I had dragged her out of her seat by the collar and started kicking her.

Chaos erupted in the classroom.

“Jennie’s gone insane!” someone shrieked. “Call the principal! Call the police!” cried another.

Students scattered—some hiding under desks, others whipping out their phones to film the madness. I didn’t care. I was lost in a haze of rage and exhilaration. The sound of Agnes’s desperate screams echoed through the corridor as I dragged her outside, her futile struggles only fueling my frenzy.

***

Flashback to the past

This wasn’t a random act of insanity. I knew exactly what I was doing. In my previous life, everything fell apart on the eve of the college entrance exam. My supposed best friend, Agnes, blew up the chemistry lab at school. The explosion was catastrophic—many students died, their futures obliterated in a single moment of fire and destruction.

And then the police came for me. They showed up at my house, armed with surveillance footage that somehow implicated me as the mastermind. My pleas of innocence fell on deaf ears. Even my own mother, the woman who had raised me, didn’t believe me.

“You’ve always been a bad seed,” she spat. “I knew it was only a matter of time before you did something like this.”

Her words shattered me. As the parents of the victims stormed my home in a grief-fueled rage, my mother stepped aside, leaving me to face their wrath. They didn’t hesitate. In minutes, I was beaten to death, my body a bloody pincushion of knives.

When I opened my eyes again, I was here—back in my final year of high school, just weeks before the explosion that ruined everything.

***

Back to the Present

The memory of that betrayal burned in my veins as I tightened my grip on Agnes’s collar. This time, I would take control. No one would make a fool out of me again.

My mother—bleeding and limping from the blows I had landed—crawled after me, begging for me to stop. “Jennie, what are you doing? Let her go!” she wailed.

I ignored her, delivering another swift kick to Agnes’s ribs. Teachers and staff finally intervened, pulling me off her just as the police and paramedics arrived.

***

The mental hospital was cold and sterile, its white walls glaring under harsh fluorescent lights. My mother, now lying on a hospital bed, screamed at the doctor.

“She’s not crazy! She’s perfectly fine! You’re all overreacting!” she yelled, her voice hoarse from desperation.

The doctor sighed, scribbling something in his notebook. “I’ve seen cases like this before. The pressure of the college entrance exam can push even the brightest students to their breaking point. Your daughter needs help.”

“She doesn’t need help! She needs to study!” my mother countered, ripping the doctor’s notes out of his hands. “Rewrite this diagnosis right now, or I’ll sue you!”

The doctor remained calm, standing his ground. “Madam, her health is more important than any exam. If you can’t see that, you’re part of the problem.”

The school principal chimed in, trying to mediate. “Ms. Ainsley, you’ve always been a dedicated teacher and mother, but perhaps it’s best if Jennie stays here for a while. She’s frightened the entire school.”

My mother turned to me, her face twisted in fury. “Jennie, if you don’t leave with me right now, I’ll disown you!”

I stared at her, a slow grin spreading across my face. “Today is a good day!” I sang, twirling in place like a lunatic.

My mother’s face turned red as she collapsed in a faint. That was how I ended up in the mental hospital—a place I had fully intended to reach.

***

This was all part of my strategy. In my previous life, I had been too naive, too trusting. Agnes had played me like a fool and I paid the ultimate price. But not this time.

As I lay on the cold, hard bed of the hospital, I began plotting my next move. The chemistry lab explosion was only weeks away and I had no intention of letting history repeat itself. If Agnes thought she could get away with it again, she had another thing coming.

This time, I was going to make sure I survived. And I was going to make sure she didn’t.