The door didn't open. It exploded inward.
The cheap lock gave way with a splintering crunch.
Ardell Lowe stood in the doorway, a cigarette dangling from her lip. Ash fell onto the carpet, joining years of grime.
Karly didn't flinch. She slid the utility knife up her sleeve, the cool metal resting against her forearm.
"You're awake," Ardell snapped. She didn't look at Karly. She never really looked at her. She looked through her, at the space Karly occupied, calculating how much it cost to keep her there.
She threw a stack of papers onto the bed.
"Sign it."
Karly looked down. St. Jude Preparatory Academy - Voluntary Withdrawal Form.
"Hakeem got you a job," Ardell said, smoke curling from her nose. "Night shift at the cannery. Under the table. They don't care about age."
Hakeem leaned against the doorframe. He was younger here, his face smoother, but the cruelty in his eyes was identical to the man who had pushed her off a cliff.
"It's for the family, Karly," he said smoothly. "Dad's disability check isn't enough. We all have to sacrifice."
Sacrifice.
In the last timeline, Karly had signed. She had worked twelve-hour shifts gutting fish until her hands were raw. She had given Hakeem every cent so he could buy new sneakers and pretend he was a big shot.
Ardell stepped forward. Her hand raised. A reflex. A habit.
"I said sign the damn paper, you ungrateful little-"
Karly moved.
It wasn't a flinch. It was a pivot. A calculated shift of weight.
Ardell's hand swiped through empty air. Her momentum carried her forward, and she stumbled, hip checking the corner of the dresser.
"Ow!" Ardell spun around, shock warring with fury. "You little bitch!"
Karly stood perfectly still. Her eyes locked onto Ardell's pupils.
"Don't," Karly said.
The word was quiet. But it carried a weight that froze the room.
"What did you say to me?" Ardell hissed.
"I said don't." Karly picked up the withdrawal form. She held it up so they could both see it. "I'm not quitting school. And I'm not working at the cannery."
Hakeem pushed off the doorframe. "You think you have a choice?"
"I do," Karly said. "Because if you force me out of that school, Ardell, I'm going to call the regional manager of the factory."
Ardell's face went slack. "What?"
"I know about the inventory," Karly said. Her voice was flat, devoid of emotion. "I know you take boxes of copper wire out the back door every Thursday during the shift change. I know you sell them to the scrap yard on Route 9. I know exactly how much you've stolen."
Silence.
The only sound was the hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen.
Ardell paled. The rouge on her cheeks stood out like clown paint. "You... you wouldn't."
"Try me," Karly said.
She ripped the paper.
Riiip.
She tore it in half. Then into quarters. She let the pieces flutter into the trash can like confetti.
"I'm going to school," Karly said. "And I'm going to get a full ride scholarship. You won't pay a dime for me. But if you touch me, or my things, I make the call."
Hakeem stared at her. He looked like he was seeing a stranger. He stepped between Karly and Ardell, placing a hand on his mother's shoulder.
"Let's go, Ma," he muttered.
"But-"
"Let's go." Hakeem's eyes stayed on Karly. They were calculating. Assessing the threat. "We'll figure something else out."
They backed out of the room. Hakeem pulled the broken door shut as best he could.
Karly waited until she heard their footsteps retreat to the living room.
She leaned back against the wall and exhaled. Her knees were shaking. Not from fear. From adrenaline. Her body was weak, malnourished, flooded with cortisol.
She looked at the calendar again.
Final exams were next week.
And her father, Gus... his eyesight was failing. In the old timeline, he went blind three months from now.
Karly reached under the mattress and pulled out a burner phone she had hidden there in her past life.
She had work to do.
