On the day my usually well-behaved son killed his classmate and jumped off the rooftop of his school, my sister was frantic, making hundreds of calls and even contacting my husband to involve the police, urging me to identify his body. I, his biological mother, was in no rush. Instead, I ordered a fried chicken feast and casually watched TV. In my previous life, I had poured everything into raising my son, Gabriel. I nurtured him with care and love, molding him into a humble, bright, and kind-hearted young man. I ensured he had a healthy diet, tended to his every need, and was physically perfect without a single scar on his skin. Yet, on the day of the SATs, he killed his classmate Logan and leaped from the rooftop of Ashwood High School. When I rushed to the scene, devastated, my younger sister Lauren suddenly broke down, accusing me of abusing Gabriel for 18 years. She cried loudly, claiming I had caused his death. The coroner lifted the shroud covering Gabriel’s body, revealing scars of varying ages. My husband, Nathan, erupted in rage, releasing videos of me strictly disciplining Gabriel. The internet exploded in outrage, painting me as a monster. Online hatred culminated in strangers finding my location. Fueled by fury, they stabbed me ten times. I died in pieces, unable to understand: Why did my beloved son, whom I had never laid a finger on, end up killing someone, jumping to his death, and bearing scars I never inflicted? When I opened my eyes again, it was the day before Gabriel’s SATs. …… Content
“Abby, relax. Gabe’s a bright kid; tomorrow’s SATs will be a breeze. I bet he’ll get into Harvard without breaking a sweat.” Lauren, my sister, patted my back with a warm smile, offering kind words. I froze for a moment. The phantom pain of ten stab wounds in my abdomen lingered, making my head spin. The shock of Gabriel’s broken body and the agony of being murdered left my vision bloodshot. Lauren pulled me into a hug. “You’re so stressed out. Just stay home and rest. You’ll only distract him if you go over there.” “Trust me, Abby. Tomorrow, you’ll see that all your hard work will pay off. Gabe’s going to make you proud.” Her words, full of confidence, left me trembling. The surreal feeling of déjà vu was overwhelming. Lauren was my only family left. We had always been close, so I could never have imagined that in my past life, she would stand by Gabriel’s shattered body and accuse me of abuse. I pushed her away gently, my eyes red but my smile firm. “Fine. We’ll wait and see.” I swore I would save my son and uncover the truth. In my previous life, I had listened to Lauren’s advice. To avoid distracting Gabe, I stayed home. I even bought him a Lego set and Universal Studios tickets as a surprise for when the exams were over. I had poured years of careful attention and boundless love into raising Gabe. As a full-time mom, I devoted my every moment to him. With Nathan always busy with work, I took it upon myself to manage everything for our son. I never let Gabe do chores, encouraging him to exercise while I handled everything at home. I cooked him balanced, nutritious meals, tailoring them to his tastes. I even studied various subjects to help him whenever he struggled. I raised him as a kind, moral, and brilliant young man—every parent’s dream child. On the day of the SATs, I was full of hope, waiting outside the exam hall. Instead of my smiling son, I was met with his broken body, unrecognizable after the fall. I collapsed, heartbroken. Lauren wailed beside me, accusing me, “Abby, why did you push Gabe so hard? Did his grades matter more than his happiness?” “You hit him and stressed him out so much that he killed someone and jumped off a building. Are you happy now?” I crumpled to the ground, pale and speechless. Around us, the parents of other students murmured harshly: “So that’s how her kid was so perfect. She must’ve been ruthless. No wonder he jumped.” “Poor boy. And what about the classmate he killed? What a tragedy.” Their cruel words were unbearable. My son’s success had already drawn jealousy, but now their malice was like a tidal wave. Nathan arrived, furious. He shoved me to the ground and, in front of everyone, played a video from our home cameras. In it, I was sternly telling Gabe to finish his homework before playing video games. That single clip unleashed a storm of hatred online. People branded me a tyrant who had robbed Gabe of his freedom. Driven by blind rage, strangers found my address. They stabbed me repeatedly. The physical pain paled in comparison to the agony of losing my son and being betrayed by those I loved most. I couldn’t comprehend why my cheerful, kind-hearted son had done such terrible things before taking his own life. I had to stop this from happening. I needed to go to Ashwood High School and prevent him from killing Logan. I needed to rewrite this tragedy.
Gabriel’s school had a rule: Students had to stay in the dorms for a week before the SATs. Lauren kept insisting I stay home and not bother Gabe. I forced a smile and agreed. “Alright, you go ahead. Tomorrow, we’ll pick Gabe up together.” She smiled warmly, giving me a reassuring hug. “Everything will be okay.” In my previous life, she had always supported me with kind words. After our parents passed, I dropped out of school early to work and support her education. My life before raising Gabe had been dedicated to her. Yet, in the end, she publicly accused me, revealing mysterious scars on her own body. “Abby, you used to beat me too. How could you do the same to your son?” Her accusations were a knife to my heart. Watching Lauren’s car drive away, I changed into fresh clothes and raced to my garage. The thought of Gabe’s broken body tortured me, making me slam the gas pedal. When I arrived at Ashwood High School Dormitory, I rushed to the entrance, where Mrs. Spencer, the dorm supervisor, stopped me. “Whoa there! Parents aren’t allowed in. It’s SAT week!” “Please, I need to see my son. It’s urgent!” I pleaded desperately. She shook her head. “Rules are rules. I can’t let you in.” I relented and asked if she could call Gabe down instead. Soon, I heard footsteps on the stairs. When I saw Gabe alive and standing before me, my tears fell uncontrollably. I grabbed his hands, trembling, and asked, “Have I ever made you unhappy with how strict I’ve been?” Gabe looked confused. “Mom, what’s wrong? Of course not. I know you’ve done so much for me, especially with Dad working so much. The least I can do is study hard to repay you.” He smiled and hugged me. “Tomorrow’s the SATs. Don’t worry. I’ll make you proud.” Shaking, I asked, “How are things with your classmates? If there’s anything wrong, you can tell me.” He looked puzzled. “Everything’s fine, Mom. I get along great with everyone.” Gabe had always been well-liked, playing basketball with his friends and being kind to everyone. So why would he ever kill someone? I stroked his hair. “Alright. I’ll stay at a hotel nearby and meet you first thing tomorrow, okay?” “Okay, Mom.” He gave me a curious look but agreed. As I watched his tall figure disappear up the stairs, I wondered. At eighteen, he was strong and confident. There was no way he was being bullied. So why would he murder Logan and then jump to his death? I couldn’t figure it out. Bound by the school’s rules, I booked a room at The Elmwood Inn, overlooking the exam hall. That night, I sat wide-eyed, unable to sleep. The following day, I watched Gabe enter the exam hall. Everything was calm until the final ten minutes. For a moment, I closed my eyes. But when I opened them again, I saw Gabe standing on the hallway ledge, holding a bloodied knife. His face twisted in agony as tears streamed down. I could see his lips moving, shouting something I couldn’t hear. Then he climbed the railing. The memory of his shattered body from my past life flashed through my mind. “No!” I screamed, my voice cracking with despair.
But he couldn’t hear me. He shouted something I couldn’t make out, then suddenly leaned forward and vaulted over the railing. I saw his tall, sunny figure plummet like a kite with its string cut, crashing to the ground below. I opened my mouth to scream, but no sound came out. A metallic taste rose in my throat, and I coughed up blood. Staring at the distant ground where my son lay, I was thrown back to the memory of my previous death—stabbed ten times by enraged strangers. My fingers gripped the railing as I followed Gabe’s path, leaping off without hesitation. The impact shattered my bones, and I felt my insides heave up through my throat in a wave of iron-sweet pain. When I opened my eyes again, I was standing by the window of my house. Down below, I could hear the hum of an engine as Lauren’s car prepared to leave. I clenched my fists as if bracing myself for an irreversible decision. I drove straight to Ashwood High School, reaching Gabe’s dormitory without delay. This time, I demanded that Mrs. Spencer bring him down. When Gabe appeared, I didn’t exchange pleasantries. I grabbed his hand and said, “You’re coming home with me.” He stared at me, shocked. “Mom, the SATs are tomorrow. Are you feeling alright? Do you have a fever?” He reached out to touch my forehead. I caught his hand. “Gabe, I’ve let you make your own decisions for years, but you’re going to listen to me this time.” Mrs. Spencer looked baffled and stepped forward. “Ma’am, you’ve got to be kidding. You’re pulling him out the night before the SATs?” I brushed past her. “I’m his parent. I have the right to take him.” Her jaw dropped. “With a mom like you, no wonder the kid’s doomed.” Gabe frowned but followed me home, clearly confused. “Mom, what’s going on? You’re acting like a completely different person.” “In my eyes, you’ve always been calm, graceful, and composed. I’ve never seen you like this before.” For years, I had solved every problem independently, never raising my voice or losing control. Now, I didn’t know how to explain to him that his life was at stake. Tears streamed down my face as I asked, “Tell me the truth. Have I ever pushed you too hard? Are you unhappy?” He hesitated, thinking. “Well, of course, there were times it was hard, but when I saw my grades improve, I felt good about it.” I hugged him tightly. “But Gabe, I’ve realized none of that matters. All I want is for you to be happy and healthy.” His confusion deepened. “Mom, I am happy.” I couldn’t hold it in any longer. “Gabe, is there something you’re hiding from me? Please, just tell me!” Startled by my outburst, he shook his head. “Mom, you’re scaring me. Are you okay?” He brought me a glass of milk. “I’ll stay home tonight to calm you down, but tomorrow, I’m still taking the SATs.” I forced a smile and nodded. That night, I sat outside his bedroom, watching him sleep. Each time I closed my eyes, I saw him crying on that rooftop, jumping to his death. The SATs were the culmination of years of hard work. But what were their grades compared to his life? I grabbed his exam folder in the living room and tore his admission ticket. As long as tomorrow passed, Gabe would survive. I leaned against his bedroom door and closed my eyes. I was startled awake by the sound of shattering glass. Lightning flashed outside, illuminating the window, and rain poured down in torrents. Gabe was standing on the windowsill, his figure silhouetted against the storm. He turned to look at me, his eyes filled with despair, tears streaming down his face. He forced a smile in the rain, then fell backward into the darkness. I lunged forward, screaming, “No!” But all I heard was the sickening thud of his body hitting the ground. I collapsed, sobbing, “Why? I brought you home. Why couldn’t I save you?” Despite everything I’d done—even giving up his SATs—he still chose this path.
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