The rooftop was silent.
No traffic. No voices. Just the hum of neon signs flickering in the rain, and the sharp wind curling around Elara Voss's body as she hung over the edge.
A man's hand gripped her wrist — not in panic, but control.
"You should've stayed quiet," he said softly. "You never knew when to stop."
Her gaze didn't waver.
Not anymore.
They thought they broke her. They thought this was the end.
> But endings only exist for those who stop fighting.
Elara let go.
And the world collapsed into black.
---
**Beep. Beep. Beep.**
Her eyes flew open.
White ceiling. No blood. No pain.
She bolted upright.
Not her apartment. Not the hospital.
Her old bedroom.
Soft beige walls. A tiny desk under the window. The scent of fresh linen and eucalyptus. The scent of a past she had buried.
"No way..."
Her hands shook as she stumbled to the mirror.
The face staring back was **eighteen**. No scar on her cheek. No lines of fatigue. Just wide blue eyes — filled with shock, and a fury blooming beneath it.
She turned slowly to the calendar.
**Monday. March 4th.**
The day she was accused of stealing research data from the university server.
The day everything started to fall apart.
---
She didn't scream. She didn't cry.
She smiled — just a little.
"I'm back."
---
That morning, her mother hummed while making coffee. Her stepfather read the news, ignoring her presence like always. Their polite house was the same cage it had always been.
But Elara?
She wasn't the same girl who had once begged for anyone to believe her.
She was quiet. Focused. Calculating.
---
At school, everything looked smaller — the corridors, the teachers, the gossiping cliques pretending to be sophisticated.
And then she saw him.
**Rowan Hale.**
The only one who had stood by her name. The only one who tried to clear her name when it all came crashing down. He was by his locker, laughing, unaware of the storm that once ruined his life for defending her.
Her chest tightened for a moment.
She remembered how they dragged him into her mess. How he lost his scholarship. How his friends turned their backs.
> Not this time.
She walked past him without a glance. Not because she didn't care — but because she cared **enough** to stay away.
> "I won't let you burn for me again, Rowan."
---
That night, she locked her door and opened her laptop.
First, she created three burner accounts. Then, she set up a private server and installed a custom firewall. Within an hour, she had recreated her future-self's entire evidence archive — names, crimes, passwords.
She labeled the folder: **"REWIND\_01: ERASE THEM CLEAN"**
She typed the first three names:
* **Dr. Kessler** – the one who framed her.
* **Lena Amsel** – her ex-friend turned informant.
* **Jonathan Reiss** – the whisperer behind it all, the one who smiled while he ruined her.
She remembered every face. Every betrayal. Every detail.
This time, she wouldn't cry in the dean's office. She wouldn't plead her case.
> She would control the board.
> And burn every piece they once used to control her.
---
At midnight, Elara sat by the window, watching the city lights flicker like lies.
Everyone thought her story had ended the day she disappeared.
But the truth was—
> **She was born to end it.**
--