Escaping My Swan

Riiiing— The shrill school bell smashed into my eardrums. I jerked awake. I was sitting in the back row of a high school classroom.

At the front, the teacher tapped the chalkboard with a sharp, grating rhythm. The suffocating air in the room made me want to curse out loud. I died. And now, I was breathing again.

I wasn't just eighteen. I was back in high school. I lifted my head. My gaze locked onto the slender back sitting in the very front row.

That was our school's untouchable valedictorian, Daphne. And my wife from a past life.

In that previous life, I was a mudcovered bastard who used every dirty trick in the book to force my way into her world.

I dragged this pure white rose right down into my own desperate abyss. Because of me, she gave up her Ph.D.

She spiraled into suffocating postpartum depression, and that pathetic business crisis nearly drove her insane. This time, I wouldn't take a single step toward her.

I would stay far away. I would stand back and watch her soar to the brilliant life she was always meant for. A life entirely without me.

Chapter 1 The hallway gradually quieted down, settling into a heavy preclass stillness. I sat in the corner of the back row, my eyes glued to the girl walking through the door.

I was exiled to the back anyway. Nobody paid attention to a burnout like me. Her name was Daphne. That name was like a curse, nailed dead center in my brain.

I realized I was staring at her. My Adam's apple bobbed involuntarily. I snapped my jaw shut, forcing myself to look away. She wore a pair of lightweight glasses.

Behind the lenses, her eyes looked exhausted. Dark circles shadowed underneath them. She definitely stayed up way too late studying again.

She didn't stand out in the sea of identical uniforms. Yet this girl, who blended right into the crowd, was the school's untouchable valedictorian.

Three years running at the top of the STEM rankings. That was my future wife. No. I was back now.

So she was going to be a rising star in aerospace, or some renowned physics professor. She'd be up there with Stephen Hawking. But she wouldn't be my wife.

She wouldn't be chained to a piece of trash like me. People started taking their seats. I let my eyes linger on her one last time before ripping my gaze away.

I untied the uniform jacket from my waist and shoved my arms into the sleeves. The teacher marched into the classroom, a thick stack of tests in hand.

His face was grim. "Pop quiz, everyone." The teacher's flat voice shattered the quiet.

The class erupted into groans, but after a few curses, they numbly dug out their pens and scratch paper. A muscle feathered in my jaw. I let out a low, harsh breath.

That was the one damn problem with being back in high school. Tests every other day.

Exhaling hard through my nose, I slammed my pristine textbook shut and tossed it onto the pile next to my desk.

I had dug that book out for nothing. "Daphne." Hearing her name, Daphne walked up to the front like it was routine.

She took the stack of papers, counted them out, and handed them down the first row. Then she smoothed her skirt and sat perfectly still in her chair. Her spine was straight.

She ripped a piece of scratch paper from the top of her stack and pinned it under her right hand. Everyone else in the room looked miserable. Only Daphne and I stayed totally calm.

Except I wasn't calm because I knew the material. I was calm because I already knew my score. You couldn't expect a dropout who'd been out of school for years to pass a test.

Especially not math. The rustle of paper spread through the room. Daphne took the test passed back to her.

The guy in front of her muttered, "Pass me some of that genius luck." She offered a small smile.

As she lifted her elbow, her uniform sleeve slid down, exposing a sliver of pale skin. The scent of her drifted through the air.

I clenched my fists, my nails digging hard enough into my palms to draw blood. I used the pain to force my eyes off the pale skin of her nape. Stay away from her, I warned myself.

Chapter 2 I tilted my head back to check the progress. Judging when the tests would reach my desk, I calculated the angle and stuck two fingers out past the guy in front of me.

Seeing the burn scar on my index finger, my hand instinctively went to my pocket. Sure enough, my fingers closed around a lighter. And a few cigarettes.

I didn't absorb a damn thing in high school, but I sure as hell picked up every bad habit there was. The rustle of paper came down the row.

Unexpectedly, the guy in front of me turned around and spat out quickly, "We're out." He whipped back around, burying his head in his test. Hell yes. Out. Perfect.

Before I could enjoy the victory, I caught the teacher's casual glance in my direction.

When he saw my empty desk, his brow furrowed hard, making his already miserable face look even more severe. I almost wanted to walk up there and iron out those wrinkles myself.

But then I remembered the guy made a killing in the stock market in his previous life and walked around on a cloud for the rest of his days. I let the thought go. Let him frown.

In a few years, he wouldn't have anything left to frown about anyway. I hooked the corner of my mouth up into a bright, sunny grin.

His frown only deepened, like he was looking at a ghost. I dropped the smile, and his expression instantly smoothed out in relief. What the hell is your problem?

I was a bad student in my last life, sure, but I didn't do anything crazy. Well, except defile the precious valedictorian he treated like a saint.

The thought knocked the wind out of me. My shoulders slumped. I lowered my head and let my eyes drop.

Daphne, this time around, you won't get tangled up with a piece of trash like me. I was busy wallowing in my own misery when something white intruded into my line of sight.

A stark white test paper. It gave me a headache just looking at it. I raised that hand with its old scars, looking up right into Daphne's calm, piercing eyes. "Take this one.

I'll get another," she said coldly, her voice sending a jolt of electricity straight down my spine. Her high ponytail swept across her nape.

She dipped her chin slightly, her eyelashes fluttering like butterfly wings. My chest seized. The hand propping up my head dropped unconsciously.

I suddenly remembered exactly when I was. It was this exact moment.

This random act of kindness she would have shown to any classmate that triggered the entire tragedy of our last life. Last time, I took the test and scribbled nonsense all over it.

All I thought about was her name. And then she ended up ruined by a worthless bastard like me. Just as she turned to leave, I shot up from my seat.

I made a different choice this time. I stood up abruptly and slammed the test back onto her desk. The rough pad of my finger inevitably brushed the back of her hand.

Damn it, too soft. It felt like it was burning my skin. Exactly like the last time. I let out a dismissive scoff.

Shoving one hand in my pocket, I avoided Daphne's stunned stare and leveled a challenging glare directly at the teacher. "I don't know how to do it anyway.

Not taking it." I said it loud. The noise pulled several heads up from the sea of questions, students sneaking glances at me.

Being the blatant outcast among a bunch of obedient, studious kids somehow made me an anomaly they couldn't ignore.

That was why, despite my garbage grades, I had a horde of clueless teenage girls swooning over me in my last life. Innocent girls always fell for the bad boys.

Chapter 3 Daphne stood frozen, not reacting yet. With those blackrimmed glasses, she just blinked at me, her lips slightly parted. Damn it. So fcking beautiful. I swallowed hard.

Terrified I'd ruin it and do the exact opposite of pushing her away, I jerked my head back and strode out the door while the teacher glared daggers at me.

Reaching the hallway, I threw a lazy wave at the classroom. I killed some time wandering past the principal's office before heading straight for the main gate.

I didn't even make it past the wroughtiron fence before the security guard blocked my path. I glanced down. Right. I was still wearing my uniform.

I argued with the guy, but no matter what I said, he refused to let me off campus. He didn't budge an inch. I kept my face deadpan and pulled the lighter from my pocket. Click.

The flame flared, reflecting in my cold, empty eyes. I casually tossed the lit lighter straight into the trash can next to his desk.

While he panicked and lunged to put out the fire, I strode out the gate. By the time he grabbed his coffee mug to douse the flames, I was already gone.

After putting some distance between us, I glanced back at the brick building towering over the neighborhood.

I pressed my index and middle fingers to my forehead and threw a lazy salute. Rest in peace, high school. Okay. Step one of the Daphne Protocol: complete.

The morning sky bled into a pale blue. Storefront grates were just rolling up, and the thick scent of grease and black coffee drifted from a nearby food cart.

The smell hit my nose, and my stomach instantly cramped. I hadn't eaten breakfast. I dug through my pockets, turning them inside out. Barely over two bucks. Jesus, I was broke.

Whatever. I had bigger things to handle. It had been a lifetime since I'd walked these streets.

It took a while to navigate the blurred edges of my memory and find the shithole I used to call home.

I finally turned down a narrow, cracked sidewalk lined with overgrown oak trees. This was it. The rundown apartment complex.

The peeling paint on the brick walls still held the faded graffiti I'd sprayed back when I was a kid.

I took the stairs two at a time and stopped in front of the battered wooden door. I took a deep breath and kicked it as hard as I could. Bang. I cursed under my breath.

The deadbolt was actually holding firm. Inside, I heard the clinking of empty bottles and the rustle of shifting weight. The old drunk was awake.

I ground my back teeth together, a dark surge of irritation burning in my eyes. The door yanked open. Seeing me, real shock broke through the old man's hungover haze.

He squinted at the daylight. "What the hell are you doing back?" he rasped in disgust, lifting the halfempty bottle in his right hand for a swig.

I swept my gaze over the trashed living room. I shoved right past him and walked straight into my own room. It was a mess, but compared to the rest of the dump, it was spotless.

I grabbed the edge of my mattress and flipped it up. I dragged my hand underneath. Sure enough. Completely empty. Chapter 4 So he'd already taken it all to buy booze this early on.

I let out a harsh, selfmocking laugh.

I released my grip, and the thin mattress slammed back onto the frame, kicking up a cloud of hidden dust. "You thought you could hide money from me in my own house, kid?" The old man sprawled on the couch, shoving a pile of laundry onto the floor.

He smugly swirled the liquor in his bottle. His face was flushed red. It made me sick to look at him. My fingers curled inward, tightening until the pain in my palms bit deep.

I didn't realize I'd moved until I was standing right over him. "Get the hell out of—" Before he could finish, I locked my hand around his jaw.

I squeezed hard enough to force his mouth open, his expression twisting into shock. Before he could spit out another curse, I snatched the bottle from his hand.

The movement was rough and sharp. The amber liquid frothed from the sudden motion. I tilted the bottle.

The liquor poured out, flooding straight down his throat without an ounce of mercy. The old man's eyes bulged.

Muffled, choking sounds tore from his throat as he thrashed against my grip. But I was stronger than him now. I had been for a long time. "Where is it?

Where's the money?" I demanded sharply, releasing him just enough so he could gasp for air. "You piece of sht!

You dare touch me?" The old man surged up in a blind rage, raising his hand to backhand me. But the alcohol threw off his balance. He stumbled and crashed back onto the floor.

The sticky residue on my hand and the harsh reek of cheap booze made my stomach turn again. I wasn't going to waste my breath arguing with a useless drunk.

I stepped forward, grabbed a handful of his greasy hair, and yanked his head back. I tipped the bottle up and poured the rest of the liquor down his throat.

The booze overflowed, dripping down his chin and staining his shirt. The fight drained out of the old man's eyes, replaced by a stark, widening panic. He thrashed wildly in my grip.

His fingernails clawed at the bulging veins on my forearm, leaving streaks of blood, but I couldn't even feel the pain. Only the raw rage boiling in my blood.

In the reflection of his bloodshot eyes, I saw myself: dead calm, and entirely unhinged. I leaned down, forcing him to meet my gaze.

My voice was dead. "Where's the money?" He stared at me like I was a stranger. When I tightened my grip on his hair, reality finally snapped back into him.

His hand instinctively patted his chest. There it is. I let go of his hair and ripped his jacket open, pulling out a few crumpled bills. Barely anything left.

I glanced at the empty bottles littering the floor. A familiar wave of exhaustion washed over me. It was the eighteenyearold me, screaming inside.

Because the older me had long since gone numb to this. Even when I married Daphne and this old bastard had the nerve to show up, I told him to go to hell.

People didn't understand, but I knew exactly what he wanted: to steal the wedding gifts. I stood up, looking down at the old man as he clutched his head and coughed violently.

I didn't stay a second longer. I walked out and slammed the door behind me. I let him scream and curse at my back. I broke into a slow jog.

As the streets became more familiar, the tight knot in my chest started to loosen.

Especially when I looked up and saw the faint, ghostly outline of the moon still lingering in the morning sky. Chapter 5 I stared up at the sky for a long time.

Just as I snapped out of it, a heavy weight slammed me onto the concrete. "What the—guard, shouldn't you be watching the front gate?" The old guy didn't say a word.

He just pinned my arms behind my back. A cold premonition crawled up my spine. I jerked my head to the side and saw my homeroom teacher staring down at me, his face livid.

The guy standing next to him looked familiar too. It wasn't until they dragged me all the way to the administration office that it clicked. The head of discipline.

Hell, it had been a lifetime since I'd seen him. "Ryker, you… you are absolutely…" The discipline head was practically hyperventilating, pointing a trembling finger at me.

Hearing that name after so many years threw me off.

The old man only ever called me "bastard." When the hospital needed a name for my birth certificate, he was too hungover to speak. A nurse took pity and just wrote 'Ryker'.

That was why, in my last life, the second Daphne and I made it official, I shamelessly asked her to rename me. She was brilliant. She had real culture.

The name she spent days picking out for me was perfect. As for 'Ryker', I had buried that name a long time ago. I slumped in the chair, letting them run their twoman interrogation.

Watching the discipline head's mouth move nonstop, the exhaustion finally caught up with me. My eyelids grew heavy.

I let out a silent yawn, lazily lifting my eyelids to give my furious homeroom teacher a dead, humorless smirk.

His eyes bugged out, looking like he was about to lunge across the desk and hit me. I don't know how long they went on.

Seeing I wasn't giving them an inch, the discipline head finally stopped to take a frustrated gulp of water. My patience was gone. I stood up.

I took the crumpled piece of paper they'd thrown at me, smoothed it out flat, and slid it back across the wood. "I'm dropping out." The discipline head's eyes snapped up.

He glared at me, pure fury radiating off him. His 'Teacher of the Year' mug slammed against the desk. "Ryker!" His voice spiked an octave. I nodded slowly. "Yeah.

I'm right here." "You need a parent's signature to drop out! You can't just scrawl 'I quit' on a piece of scratch paper!" I nodded like I was absorbing a deep lesson.

Under their confused stares, I picked up a pen and forged my old man's signature in one fluid, aggressive stroke. I pushed the paper back.

Dead silence filled the room, followed by heavy breathing. "I don't have a mom. My dad's a drunk who couldn't care less." The atmosphere in the room shifted instantly.

The anger drained right out of the discipline head's face. "What are you going to do if you don't finish school?" "Start a business.

I already know what I'm doing." They wasted another ten minutes trying to talk me out of it, their tone suddenly dripping with pity. It all went in one ear and out the other.

Since neither side was backing down, I decided to do them a favor. I snatched the withdrawal form right out of his hand.

Under their complicated stares, I planted both hands on the office desk.

I leaned in, my shadow falling over them, locking eyes with cold authority. "Since I'm officially out, refund my miscellaneous fees for the semester. I need the startup capital.

Consider it a loan." They were academics. They had no idea how to handle a street rat with nothing to lose.

After a few minutes of relentless pushing, I walked out the school gates with a crisp stack of bills in my pocket.

Chapter 6 I flagged down a guy tossing scrap into a rusted pickup, giving him a chinjerk to wait up. Ignoring the security guard's narrowed eyes, I strode back into the building.

The pop quiz was already over.

The room hummed with the sound of kids bitching about the math problems, but the second I crossed the threshold, the chatter died. "Ryker, where the hell did you go?" some guy asked, sounding genuinely confused.

I gave a halfshrug and ignored him.

I walked straight to my desk at the back, stripped off my uniform jacket, and started shoving textbooks into it, using the fabric like a makeshift duffel bag.

I couldn't fit everything.

I grabbed the pristine, unwrittenin notebooks and tossed them onto the desk. "Ryker, what… what are you doing?" the guy in front of me asked, real unease creeping into his voice.

Daphne stopped writing. She turned around, her piercing eyes locking onto me with clear suspicion. Beneath her palm rested a fresh stack of advanced practice tests.

That was her to the core. Pure, untouchable genius fueled by relentless obsession. I didn't let myself look at her.

Instead, I faced the sea of wide, staring eyes and laid it out flat. "I'm dropping out. The stuff on the desk is blank. Take what you want." The room exploded into shocked whispers.

These kids were groomed for Ivy Leagues and suburban perfection. The concept of someone just walking out was alien to them. I shut out the noise.

I tied the jacket sleeves into a tight knot and hoisted the heavy bundle over my shoulder.

Even from my peripheral vision, I could feel the weight of Daphne's fierce disapproval burning into my skin. I took two steps toward the door before a dark impulse hit me.

I pivoted, striding up to the front podium. I swept my gaze over the room and delivered a cold, selfmocking smirk. "Don't ruin your lives like me.

Stay safe in your little ivory towers." Especially you, Daphne. Stay in your light. Keep flying high. Last time, I suffocated her with my relentless obsession.

She might have fallen for me, but she never said the words.

Not until I followed her halfway across the country to her college town, bleeding myself dry working deadend jobs for over a year just to officially make her mine.

Looking back, her stooping down to my level was just a trauma bond. I was a dangerous, unpredictable variable crashing into the suffocating pressure cooker of her senior year.

She mistook the cheap adrenaline of teenage rebellion for love. The golden girl and the absolute bottomfeeder.

It was the kind of toxic trainwreck high school kids couldn't look away from. I turned to leave and nearly collided with my homeroom teacher.

He was staring at me, a deep, painful regret etched into his face. That was the curse of educators with a bleeding heart.

Even when the school's absolute worst piece of trash walked out the door, he still felt the sting of failure. I paused as I reached the doorframe.

Leaning close to him, I muttered under my breath, "Feel free to use me as your cautionary tale. I won't charge you royalties." His jaw tightened.

He reached for a heavy wooden ruler on the nearest desk, but I was already out the door, moving fast. I hauled the makeshift bag of books down the front steps.

I didn't even make it to the sidewalk before the security guard blocked me again, gripping a heavy baton. I slapped the officially stamped withdrawal form right against his chest.

I didn't wait for his reaction.

I swaggered past him, straight out the iron gates, and dumped the entire load of textbooks into the back of the scrap guy's truck. "You're done with school, kid?" The guard actually sounded worried as I stood on the curb, counting out the crumpled twenty bucks and change I got for the paper.

I gave a halfwave, not bothering to look over my shoulder. "Yeah. I'm not exactly college material." I pressed two fingers to my forehead and threw a final salute at the building.

This time, I was walking away for good. Chapter 7 This time, I was severing the toxic tie between Daphne and me right at the root.

Looking at the trajectory of her life, there was an almost zero percent chance our paths would ever cross again. Good.

Gripping the thick wad of cash in my pocket, I circled the city for hours until I finally found the starting point for my business empire.

I slapped a few crisp bills on the counter. "Boss." Step two of the Daphne Protocol officially commenced. I timed my return to the apartment that night.

Just as expected, the old bastard was out drinking. After tearing through the place to pack my stuff, I walked out the door without looking back and let out a heavy exhale.

I wandered the streets, scouting the perfect location to drop my empire. I killed time until the streetlights buzzed on. I tore into a cheap hot dog, forcing it down for dinner.

I was broke as hell. I was finishing up scouting another intersection when I slammed on the brakes. I jerked back, flattening myself against the brick wall of an alley.

I waited until I saw Daphne sprinting toward her house, clutching her backpack to her chest. Only then did I step out from the shadows.

My eyes locked onto the ripped seam of her backpack and her stretched, disheveled uniform. Daphne treated her books like gold. This was… A muscle feathered in my jaw.

I grabbed a handful of dirt from the gutter, shoved a splintered piece of wood into the back of my jeans, and stalked into the dark alley she had just run from.

Deep in the alley stood three punks, laughing as they casually tossed a pink wallet back and forth.

The second my eyes locked onto that wallet, whatever rational thought I had left snapped. They touched Daphne. Those three pieces of trash. The blond one noticed me.

He flicked his cigarette away, eyeing my uniform, and let out a sharp whistle. He definitely thought he just found another easy target.

I pulled out the cigarette I'd forgotten to throw away. I flashed them a lazy grin and walked right up to them.

Just as they relaxed, expecting me to offer a light, I hurled the handful of dirt straight into their eyes. They doubled over, screaming and clutching their faces.

I whipped the splintered wood from my waistband and brought it down hard across their ribs.

I tossed the wood aside, grabbed the lead punk by the collar, and slammed him brutally against the rough brick wall. My vision was swimming with red. "Listen to me.

If you ever go near her again, I will break every rib in your body," I warned, my voice dropping into a lethal growl.

Ever since I got tangled up with Daphne in my last life, I hadn't thrown a single punch. My wife hated violence. Throwing down after all these years felt a little rusty.

Damn it, that took more effort than it should have