Her Deadly April Fool’s Rebound

It was April Fools Day when my boyfriends female best friend shoved a piece of paper into my hands, daring me to read it aloud for the livestream.

In my past life, to keep the peace, I swallowed my pride and read the vicious words:

I, Harriet, will lose my hair, my skin will rot, and I will become a monster.

My little sister will be dragged into an alley and violated.

My parents bistro will serve poisoned food, killing a customer and ruining our family.

That very night, every single one of Bernices sick, twisted curses came true.

My sister was assaulted in a dark alley. She jumped off her high school roof.

My parents viral farm-to-table bistro was shut down after a man died from eating their food. They were thrown in prison.

My face broke out in weeping, rotting sores, making me the target of relentless internet bullying.

Meanwhile, Bernice won a ten-million-dollar lottery. She took over my influencer account with its millions of followers. She married my boyfriend.

I swallowed a bottle of sleeping pills, choking on a grief too heavy for one lifetime.

Then I opened my eyes. The blinding ring light. The camera. The exact same April Fools Day.

Bernice was staring at me, a sickeningly sweet smile plastered across her face. "Harriet! Come on, don't be a buzzkill. Are you brave enough to play the prank stream or not?"

I let out a low, breathy laugh.

"Oh, I'll play. I'm just worried you don't have the stomach for it."

"Here! Read this!"

Bernices smile didn't reach her eyes as she thrust the folded slip of paper toward me.

I didn't take it. I just sat back, letting the silence stretch, smiling right back at her.

"If its a game, its no fun if Im the only one playing," I said, keeping my voice light. "Let me write a slip for you, too. Well read them to each other. You know, for the engagement metrics."

Bernice blinked, her hand faltering. She let out a dry, nervous laugh.

"Oh, let's just stick to you. Today is about pranking you, I'm just the host..."

I mirrored her usual passive-aggressive, baby-voice cadence.

"Bernice, don't tell me you're scared? Our fearless internet bad-girl, suddenly backing down?"

A few of Corey's frat brothers were lounging on the sofa behind us. One of them snorted, tossing a beer cap onto the table.

"Damn, Harriet, chill out. Bernices practically one of the guys. Theres nothing she wont do for a laugh."

My boyfriend, Corey, flushed a deep crimson. He kicked his friend's shin under the table, hissing, "Watch your mouth on the livestream, man."

Yet, his body language told a different story. He shifted entirely, angling his broad shoulders to physically shield Bernice from me.

"Just play the game, Harriet. What are you so afraid of?" he coaxed, though his eyes were hard. Then he glanced back at Bernice, his voice softening. "Don't worry, B. I've got your back."

With Corey defending her, Bernices spine stiffened. She puffed out her chest, suddenly emboldened.

"Who's scared? You first, Harriet. Read it!"

In those few minutes of tension, the viewer count on my livestream had skyrocketed to two hundred thousand. The chat was a blur of rapid-fire text, demanding action.

I looked down, slowly unfolding the paper in my hands.

The blood roared in my ears. Black spots danced at the edge of my vision.

It was the exact same wording.

When I didn't speak, Bernice sneered.

"Read it, Harriet. What, did you freeze? If you can't take a joke, you have to get on your knees and call me 'Mommy' on camera."

The peanut gallery on the sofa erupted into hoots and applause.

"Read it! Read it!"

"Call her Mommy!"

Corey nudged my arm, irritated. "Harriet, stop stalling. Just read the damn thing. Youre ruining the vibe."

The chat was a relentless wave of peer pressure:

[Is the host a sore loser?]

[If u can't play, log off.]

[Just read it omg so annoying.]

I curled my hands into fists under the table, my manicured nails biting half-moons into my palms. I forced the blinding, suffocating hatred down into my chest, locking it away.

I held the paper up to the camera and read it. Word by agonizing word.

"I, Harriet, will lose my hair, my skin will rot, and I will become a monster. My little sister will be dragged into an alley and violated. My parents bistro will serve poisoned food, killing a customer and ruining our family."

The living room went dead silent for two agonizing seconds.

Then, one of the guys slow-clapped.

"Holy shit. That is brutal! Bernice, your brain is a dark place. Top-tier content right there."

Corey laughed. He actually laughed. He reached over and playfully snapped the bra strap visible beneath Bernices oversized flannel.

"You're toxic as hell for that one," he joked.

Bernice covered her mouth, giggling uncontrollably.

"Wow, Harriet, I can't believe you actually read it! Aren't you worried putting that out into the universe will make it come true?"

Anyone else would have flipped the table. I kept my breathing steady.

I grabbed a sticky note, grabbed a Sharpie, and scrawled a single sentence. I slid it across the glass coffee table, stopping right in front of Bernice.

"My turn is over. Yours now. Read it."

The smug smile slid right off Bernices face.

She tucked her hands into her sleeves, refusing to touch the bright yellow square. Her eyes darted around the room, and suddenly, she swayed in her chair.

"Ugh. God. I'm so dizzy. My blood sugar is crashing again." She pressed a hand to her forehead. "Let's just wrap the stream here. We'll do part two another day."

Her visceral panic confirmed everything.

In my past life, I had agonized over how a few mean words on a piece of paper could destroy my entire world. Later, I realized Bernice was obsessed with dark web occultism and twisted manifestation rituals. She believed that by making me speak the curses aloud, she was legally transferring my good karma to herself and cementing my doom.

She reached for the mouse to end the broadcast. I clamped my hand over her wrist.

"You're the one who begged to play," I said, my voice carrying cleanly over the microphone. "And now your blood sugar is low? Two hundred thousand people are watching."

I leaned in, amplifying my voice for maximum humiliation.

"You've been trying to build your own channel for months. If you back out of a dare on a live feed, how are you ever going to make it in this industry? Nobody likes a flake."

Bernice whipped her head around, glaring at me with pure, unadulterated venom.

I had hit her deepest insecurity. I had the effortless aesthetic, the wealthy background, the million followers who loved my lifestyle vlogs. Bernice spent her days photobombing my posts, desperate for a crumb of clout, barely scraping together a fraction of my audience.

Now, I was calling her out in front of half a million eyeballs. She was practically vibrating with rage.

One of the frat boys jumped to her defense.

"Harriet, you're being a bitch. She said she feels sick. Why are you forcing it? It's just a game, drop it."

Another chimed in, eager to earn points with Corey. "Seriously. Zero empathy. No wonder Corey says you're exhausting to date."

Bolstered by her audience, Bernice let her legs give out. She collapsed neatly against Coreys chest, letting out a frail sigh.

"Corey, my head is spinning. I can't breathe. Can you help me up?"

Corey immediately wrapped a protective arm around her waist. He turned his head, his face a thundercloud of resentment, and barked at me.

"So you have some internet followers, who cares? Stop acting like you're better than everyone!" He stood up, hoisting Bernice with him. "I'm taking Bernice home. Sit here and think about how you're acting."

He began half-carrying her toward the door.

I stood up, taking one massive stride to block the entryway.

I held the yellow sticky note right at Bernices eye level. My voice was ice.

"It's one sentence. Read it, and you can walk out that door." I paused, letting my eyes bore into hers. "Otherwise, I have every reason to believe you're using this 'prank' as a cover to actually wish death upon my family."

Everyone in the room stared at me like I belonged in a psych ward.

The loudest of Corey's friends pointed a finger in my face. "Are you psychotic? There's a limit to being a jealous girlfriend! Cursing your family? What is this, a CW teen drama?"

I stood in the doorway, an immovable object.

Seeing I wasn't going to budge, the guys started groaning.

"Bernice, just read the damn thing so we can leave. Placate the crazy lady."

I had backed her into a corner. If she didn't read it, she proved she was terrified of the words.

She shot me a look of pure hatred, snatched the sticky note, and scanned it.

The color drained from her face, leaving her a sickly, ashen gray.

Her hand trembled violently, though she tried to mask it with an exaggerated scoff.

"Jesus, Harriet, your handwriting is atrocious. I'm too dizzy to even focus on this. I'm not reading it."

She moved to crumple it up.

I grabbed my phone from the tripod and shoved the camera lens inches from her face.

"Can't read it? Want me to have two hundred thousand people decipher it for you? Bernice, if you don't read this right now, the second anything happens to my family, the police will be knocking on your door. And my entire comment section will be the witnesses."

The live chat was moving so fast it was a blur, thousands of voices calling her out for being fake, dramatic, and suspicious.

Bernice ground her teeth. Her jaw locked.

She took a shallow, shaky breath, and read the words with the enthusiasm of someone walking to the gallows.

"Whatever misfortune befalls Harriets family, it will rebound onto me, ten times worse."

The room erupted.

Corey's friends exploded, yelling over each other.

"Harriet, you are a toxic, vindictive bitch!"

"Wishing karma on her? That is so dark. What the fuck is wrong with you?"

A sharp, humorless laugh tore its way out of my throat.

"Five minutes ago, she wished rape and death on my family, and you all sat there clapping like seals!" I swept my gaze over the room of hypocrites, letting it land squarely on Corey. "But when I simply hand the exact same energy back to her, suddenly I'm the dark, vindictive one?"

I clicked my tongue. "The double standards in this room are suffocating."

Coreys face went dark.

He stepped forward and shoved me hard in the chest.

"Enough, Harriet! I never realized how utterly ugly you are on the inside."

My back slammed against the entryway console table. Pain shot up my spine.

I touched the wood to steady myself, a cold smile pulling at my lips.

"You just realized? Perfect."

I stared him dead in the eye. Every ounce of love I had ever held for this man had evaporated in my previous life.

"We're done. We're breaking up."

The air was sucked out of the room.

No one expected methe girl who had compromised and accommodated Corey for two yearsto end it over what they considered a minor spat.

Bernices head snapped up. A flash of wild, uncontainable triumph sparked in her eyes, though she quickly arranged her face into a mask of distress.

"Oh my god, stop! This is my fault. You guys are talking about getting engaged. Don't break up over me!"

I rolled my eyes. "Save the acting, Bernice. Your lips are about to tear from smiling so hard."

"Harriet! Watch your tone! What did Bernice ever do to you?" Corey reached out to grab my arm.

I slapped his hand away with a resounding smack.

I walked out and slammed the door behind me.

I practically sprinted through the parking garage. I threw myself into the drivers seat of my SUV, my heart hammering against my ribs.

There was no room for heartbreak. I needed to move.

My mind kept replaying Bernices terrified expression when she read the rebound clause. The dread in her eyes wasn't an act. That meant that in this lifetime, if the tragedy struck, the catastrophic blowback would hit her.

I let out a long, shaky exhale.

But I wasn't leaving my family's survival up to mystical karma.

I fumbled for my phone and dialed my younger sister, Sophie. She was a sophomore at a prestigious boarding school on the edge of the city.

It rang forever. Finally, a hushed voice answered.

"Harriet? I'm in study hall."

The moment I heard her voice, the dam broke. Hot tears pricked my eyes. I gripped the steering wheel, forcing the tremor out of my voice.

"Soph. Listen to me very carefully. No matter what happens today, you are not to step foot off campus. Do you understand me? You don't leave the gates."

She was startled by my intensity. "Why? It's the weekend. I don't have afternoon classes."

"Don't ask questions!" I snapped, harsher than I meant to. "I don't have time to explain, but I would never hurt you. Stay on campus. Do not go anywhere!"

Sophie was a good kid. Sensing the sheer panic radiating through the phone, she promised me, swearing she wouldn't leave her dorm.

Half the weight lifted from my chest.

I threw the car into drive and hit the gas. Fifteen minutes of aggressive city driving later, I pulled up to my parents trendy downtown bistro.

It was the peak of the lunch rush. There was a line out the door.

I stormed past the hostess stand, grabbed the microphone from the manager, and hit the PA system.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I am so sorry! We have an emergency situation. We are closing immediately. Please evacuate the dining room."

The customers stared at me, forks suspended in mid-air. Then, the uproar began.

"Are you kidding me? We waited an hour for a table!"

"What kind of management is this?"

My parents rushed out of the kitchen, their faces pale with shock. They grabbed my arms.

"Harriet, have you lost your mind? It's the lunch rush! Do you know how much money we're losing?" my dad hissed.

Looking at my parentsvibrant, healthy, alivethe back of my throat burned.

The image of them in orange jumpsuits, hollowed out and weeping behind reinforced glass, crashed over me.

My knees gave out. I dropped to the floor right there in the entryway.

"Mom. Dad. I'm not crazy. I'm begging you. Close the doors right now."

Terrified, they dropped to their knees beside me, trying to pull me up.

"Sweetheart, what's wrong? Talk to us."

I pulled them close, dropping my voice to an urgent whisper. "Dad, I got a tip. The health department is doing unannounced sting operations today. Theyre looking for any excuse to shut places down, arresting owners on the spot for code violations..."

In the restaurant industry, the FDA and local health boards are the ultimate boogeymen.

My dads face tightened.

I gripped his wrists. "Close the restaurant. We need to scrub this place top to bottom. But more importantlythe walk-in freezer. Every single piece of inventory in the back alley needs to go into the dumpster. Do not save a single ounce."

Our sourcing was impeccable. We had never had a health violation.

But in my past life, someone had eaten something toxic and died. I wasn't taking a single gamble.

My parents exchanged a long, stressed look. It was thousands of dollars in premium ingredients. But seeing me pale, shaking, and on the verge of a breakdown, they caved.

"Okay. Okay, Harriet. We'll lock up."

For the next two hours, I was a woman possessed.

I stood by the loading dock, personally overseeing the kitchen staff as they hurled every side of beef, every crate of organic produce, every tub of prep into the industrial trash compactor.

When the metal jaws crushed the last of it, the stone sitting on my chest finally dissolved.

My mom untied her apron, wiping sweat from her brow. She gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze.

"Take a breath, honey. Par for the course when you own a business."

She pulled her phone from her pocket, her tired face breaking into a radiant smile.

"You know, your sister is really growing up. Mother's Day was weeks ago, but she insisted on getting me a late present."

I froze. I stretched my neck to look at the screen.

It was a photo of Sophie. She was holding a little pink bakery box, standing at the entrance of a dark, graffiti-lined alley. Smiling.

The blood in my veins turned to ice.

I grabbed my mom's forearm, my fingers digging into her skin. My voice cracked.

"When did she post this?!"

My mom jumped, startled by my aggression. "Just... just now. Maybe ten minutes ago?"

The world tilted on its axis. My body was seized by violent, uncontrollable tremors.

This was the alley. The exact alley where, in my past life, a group of men had cornered her.

I snatched the phone from my mom's hand, my fingers shaking so badly I dropped it twice.

Suddenly, my own phone began to ring. It was Sophies dorm mother.

I hit speakerphone, my breath caught in my throat.

"Harriet? It's Sophie. You need to get to the school. Right now."

I blew through every red light. Before the tires even stopped screeching against the asphalt of the school parking lot, I kicked the door open and bolted.

My parents were right behind me, sprinting toward the main academic building.

There was a crowd of students and faculty gathered on the lawn, pointing up in horror.

On the rooftop, Sophie was standing on the ledge.

She looked like a ghostswaying in the wind, entirely hollowed out.

I threw open the fire doors, taking the stairs three at a time until I burst onto the roof.

"Soph! I'm here! Step down, baby, please!"

Hearing my voice, Sophie turned her head in agonizing slow motion.

When I saw her face, my heart physically stopped.

One side of her cheek was swollen and purple. Her lip was split. Dark, violent bruises bloomed across her collarbones where her uniform shirt was torn open.

She looked at me, and a devastating, guttural sob tore from her throat.

"I'm sorry... Harriet, I'm so sorry. I should have listened to you. I shouldn't have left."

She was clutching the crushed pink bakery box to her chest, shivering violently despite the afternoon sun.

"I just... I just wanted to get Mom her favorite strawberry cake." Her voice broke. "The alley was so dark... They put a hand over my mouth. I couldn't scream..."

Behind me, my mother let out an inhuman wail. Her eyes rolled back, and she collapsed onto the concrete, unconscious.

My dad dropped to his knees, his face buried in his hands, screaming until his vocal cords shredded.

"My baby! Daddy's begging you, step away from the edge!"

I swallowed the metallic taste of blood in my mouth. I took one agonizingly slow step forward.

"Soph, look at me. This is not your fault. Come to me. Let me take you home." My voice was fierce, vibrating with a desperate promise. "I swear to God, I will hunt them down. I will ruin them."

Sophie flinched, taking a half-step backward. Her heel hovered over nothing but empty air.

"Don't come closer!" she shrieked, shaking her head frantically.

The light had completely died in her eyes. It was just a vast, empty wasteland.

"I'm dirty now, Harriet... I can't live like this."

She set the crushed pink box gently on the ledge. She looked down at our unconscious mother.

"Happy Mother's Day," she whispered.

She closed her eyes and leaned back.

"NO!"

I lunged across the concrete, my fingers grazing the edge of her pleated skirt before she slipped through my grasp.

A sickening, heavy thud echoed from the courtyard below. Then, the deafening screams of the crowd.

In that moment, the entire world went completely, terrifyingly silent.

I knelt on the edge of the roof, staring down at the pavement, the tears falling silently onto my hands.

I had done everything right. I had warned her. I had rushed against the clock. Why? Why did the tragedy still happen?

The ambulance came. My parents were sedated and taken to the hospital.

My phone was vibrating relentlessly in my jacket pocket.

Numbly, I pulled it out and opened my messages.

In our mutual friend group chat, Corey had just dropped a news link.

Headline: Tragic Accident: Local Prep School Student Falls from Roof After Assault.

His text below it was dripping with malicious glee.

See? Harriet's sister actually died.

I told you Bernice had a gift for manifestation. She was just trying to warn Harriet on the livestream.

But Harriet had to be a psycho about it. Karma's a bitch.

A chorus of sycophants immediately chimed in.

Bernice's literally a prophet. Hey B, manifest some lottery numbers for me!

Then, Bernice tagged me.

So, Harriet. Don't you think you owe me a thank you?

My thumb trembled as I held down the audio record button. I let out a feral, jagged scream into the mic.

"Go to hell! You vultures are feeding on my sister's corpse. I swear to god, I will make you pay!"

I deleted the chat and threw the phone back in my pocket.

I wandered aimlessly through the school courtyard. As I walked, students backing away from me, gasping, covering their mouths in horror.

A cold realization washed over me.

I reached into my bag and pulled out my compact mirror. I stopped dead in my tracks.

Vast chunks of my hair had fallen out at the roots.

My cheeks were covered in weeping, blistered red lesions, spreading like wildfire across my skin.

A deep, bone-chilling dread crawled up my spine.

Every single thing on Bernices list had come true.

But why?

I refused to accept that magic had killed my sister.

In a daze of grief and rage, I pulled up the archive of the April Fool's livestream.

I watched it frame by frame. I stared at the screen, my eyes burning, scanning every pixel.

Then, I hit pause.

Right before the game started, Bernice had handed me an open bottle of water. I had taken a long drink before reading the note.

My pupils dilated.

The truth hit me like a freight train.