Swipe Left on My Killer

I spent three days and three nights as a ghost, screaming into the void, before the universe finally granted me a second chance.

It all started with a Chanel bag. My mother had sent it to me as a surprise, and the sight of it sent my roommate, Teresa, into a spiraling, tear-filled jealousy that lasted for days. I couldnt stand the noisethe constant sniffling, the weaponized fragility. In a moment of sheer desperation for some peace and quiet, I used a burner account to message her on WhatsApp and transferred fifteen thousand dollars to her, disguised as a "secret admirer" who just wanted her to stop crying.

I never expected her to turn around and post the bank balance to the campus GroupMe. She announced to everyone that shed been "testing" us by playing poor, and that Ithe girl who actually owned the bagwas the greedy, social-climbing fraud who failed her little litmus test.

The backlash was instant. My classmates' vitriol felt like a physical weight, and my boyfriend, Jordan, didn't even hesitate to dump me. When I finally confronted her on our dorm balcony, she "accidentally" pushed me. I died hitting the pavement three stories down.

My other two roommates? They took a thousand dollars each from Teresa to testify that I had jumped out of shame.

...

I opened my eyes. The air felt thick, real.

Teresa was staring at her phone, her eyes widening as she saw the notification for the money Id just sent. She looked up, a triumphant, ugly smirk twisting her face. She pointed a manicured finger at my nose.

"Sophie, get your ass up and fetch me some water for a foot soak. Do it now, or Ill tell the whole class exactly how much of a shallow, gold-digging bitch you really are."

I didnt waste a heartbeat. I lunged forward, snatched the phone out of her hand, and hit "Refund" before she could even blink.

I met her panicked, confused gaze and patted my chest, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs.

Thank God, I thought. Almost fed the stray dogs again. Cant have that.

Living with Teresa was like living in a low-budget soap opera.

If I washed my face, shed stand behind me, sobbing. "I heard that cleanser is eighty dollars a bottle. Thats my grocery budget for the month! How can you be so wasteful?"

If I brushed my teeth, shed wipe away a stray tear. "Is that an ultrasonic toothbrush? I guess girls like me will never know what its like to have the best things in life..."

If I tried to sleep, shed moan from the across the room. "Can I just touch your silk sheets? I just want to know what it feels like to be special for one second."

Then my mom went to Paris and sent me the Chanel. Teresa snapped. She cried for three days straight, a relentless, performative mourning of her own perceived poverty.

Id cracked. Id sent the fifteen thousand with a simple note: Stop crying.

In my past life, the GroupMe had exploded seconds later.

[OMG, did you guys see Teresas balance? Fifteen grand in one go? Shes literally a secret heiress!]

[Wait, so Sophie was the one faking it the whole time? Thats so pathetic.]

[I knew Teresa had that 'old money' vibe. Sophie just looks like shes trying too hard. Gross.]

I scrolled up on my own phone, watching the history repeat itselfalmost. In my previous life, Teresa had cropped my burner accounts profile picture and posted the screenshot with a caption that made my blood run cold:

I only pretended to be struggling to see who my real friends were. Most of you are amazing, but Sophie...

Im going to be blunt. Sophie, its okay to be poor. You dont have to carry knockoffs to feel important. Its honestly just sad.

And then, the killing blow. Jordan, the campus golden boy, tagged me in front of everyone.

[Sophie, I cant believe I fell for your act. Youre hollow. The most embarrassing thing Ive ever done is date you. Were done. Dont ever call me again.]

The class responded with cheers and "victory" emojis.

[Justice!]

[Good for you, Jordan. You deserve way better than a fake like her.]

In that life, I had stormed out to the balcony to find Teresa. She hadn't even looked at me. She was too busy typing furiously to my "secret admirer" account.

Who are you, handsome?

You care about me so much... can we meet tonight?

Why arent you answering? Are you shy? It doesnt matter what you look like. Im a person who looks at the soul, not the face...

I had waved my phone in her face, the words "There is no secret admirer, you idiot, it was me" dying on my lips as she shoved me. She was surprisingly strong when she was annoyed.

Damn, shes got a grip, was my very last thought before the world went black.

Floating as a spirit, I watched her cry "accidentally-on-purpose" tears. My other roommates, Kelly and Bella, came out to see my body on the concrete. They looked at each other, then at Teresaor rather, at Teresas new wealth.

"Don't worry, Teresa," Kelly said, her voice devoid of emotion. "We saw it. Sophie jumped. She couldn't handle being exposed. It has nothing to do with you."

Teresa had hugged them, sobbing with "gratitude," and promptly sent them a thousand dollars each from my money. They celebrated my death like it was a civic service.

But now, I was back.

Teresa was currently typing her "I'm treating the whole class to dinner tonightexcept Sophie" message into the GroupMe. She looked at me, gloating as she pulled up the chat with my burner account.

"Ever seen this much money in your life? All your little flexes? Theyre nothing."

She leaned in, her voice a poisonous whisper. "Do you feel small yet? Do you want to go find a hole to crawl into?"

I stayed silent. It was hilarious, really. My baseline lifestyle was a fever dream of luxury to her. Fifteen thousand dollars had been enough to make her lose her mind and reveal her true, ugly self.

When I didn't respond, she got bolder. She pointed at my face. "I told you, Sophie. Fetch me the water. Now. Or the whole school finds out what a lying, status-obsessed freak you are."

I looked at her phone. The transfer was still pending. She hadn't officially "accepted" it into her bank balance yet.

My eyes lit up. I lunged, grabbed the phone, and tapped "Refund."

The money vanished from her screen and slid back into my account. I let out a long, shaky breath of relief.

Safe.

Teresas face contorted. "Sophie!! Are you insane?! You owe me fifteen thousand dollars! Give it back!"

Having died once, I knew I wasn't going to win a physical fight with her. I didn't grab a single thing. I just took my phone and bolted out of the dorm. Goodbye, snakes. I was going home to my parents' villa.

I didn't hear her chase me, but I heard the scream. It was primal. Even as I reached the ground floor, I could hear the sound of things being smashed in our room.

My phone started buzzing incessantly. Teresa was blowing up the burner account.

[Hey, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to ignore you! I'm not a gold digger, I swear. I don't even want the money, I just want to see you...]

[Please answer... I grew up an orphan, it's been so hard, but I have my pride. I can't just take money even if I'm starving... but I don't know how I'll pay my tuition now...]

[Talk to me... please...]

I kept walking, shaking my head at the absurdity. I wondered how she was going to treat the whole class to dinner on her five-hundred-dollar-a-month allowance.

I was so caught up in the irony that I walked straight into Jordan. He was clearly on his way to the dorm to deliver his "righteous" breakup speech in person.

"Ow!" I stumbled, hitting the pavement.

Jordan looked down at me. A flash of pity crossed his handsome face, but he quickly masked it, clenching his fists. "Get up. Don't think for a second that acting pathetic will make me stay. Im breaking up with you, Sophie. You know how hard I worked to get out of my small town and into this university. I won't have my reputation tarnished by a fraud. You're a stain on my life."

He sighed, looking like a martyr in a Greek tragedy. "Don't blame me for being cold. I loved you, really. But I can't sacrifice my future for you."

In my last life, Id believed that look. But I remembered him after my death, holding Teresa, whispering, "Don't feel bad. I was with her for a month; I know who she was. She jumped because she was a bad person. Its not your fault."

They had been hooking up behind my back the whole time.

I stood up, brushed the dust off my jeans, and while he was still mid-sigh, I wound up and slapped him across the mouth as hard as I could.

"Youre the stain, Jordan. Your whole family is a stain."

He was too stunned to move. By the time he found his voice, I was half a block away.

"You crazy, fake bitch!" he roared. "Youre not worth a hair on Teresas head! Youll regret hitting me!"

His impotent rage was an exact match for Teresas. Honestly, they were perfect for each other.

It was the weekend, so I went straight to my parents' place, soaked in a tub that cost more than their combined tuition, and waited for the show to begin.

The GroupMe was humming.

[Hey Teresa, where are we going for dinner?]

[I just finished my makeup! Can't wait for pics with our girl Teresa!]

[I'm wearing my best shirt for our princess!]

Teresa was silent. On my burner account, however, she had sent over three hundred messages and attempted a dozen video calls. The texts turned into frantic voice notes. I played the last one. She was sobbing.

[Please... my grandmother just called, she needs emergency surgery. If you can just lend me a little bit of money, Ill be yours forever. Ill do anything...]

I felt like playing a little. I typed back: Anything for you, sweetheart.

"Sweetheart" was Jordans pet name for her. Id only found out after I was dead. This time, Id help them synchronize.

Teresa must have seen the reply and assumed Jordan was the "Secret Admirer" finally revealing his billionaire status. She immediately posted the dinner location to the GroupMe: a trendy new Hot Pot place near campus.

[To make it easy for everyone, we're going here! Next time, I'll have my driver take us somewhere truly high-end!]

I turned off my phone, smiling. But then the screen lit up again. Someone had @-ed me in the main group. It was Jordan, of course.

[Sophie, were at the Golden Pot at six. Show up and apologize to Teresa on your knees, or don't show up at all.]

Before I could type a snarky reply, he posted a photo. It was a pile of all the gifts Id bought him over the last month. A Rolex, a curated Hermes messenger bag...

[Teresa said these are all fakes. Come get your trash. Its making me nauseous just looking at it.]

I sat bolt upright and typed one word: Deal.

I didn't want him to change his mind. Any one of those items could pay for his life for years. He thought I was coming out of fear. Let him think that. I wanted to see how theyd handle a four-figure bill with zero dollars in their pockets.

When I arrived at the restaurant, the whole class was there. Teresa hadn't heard back from "Sweetheart" yet, so she was too scared to ask for a private room. They were crammed into three tables in the corner of the main floor.

As soon as I walked in, Jordan stood up, adjusting his sleeves with an air of unearned importance. "Sophie. Down on your knees. Tell Teresa youre sorry for everything you did to her, and maybe well let you leave with your dignity."

I actually laughed. "Where do you get off, you absolute hobo? Who are you trying to impress?"

Jordans face turned a shade of purple. Being called poor was his ultimate trigger. For the month we dated, I had paid for everythinghis clothes, his meals, his techbecause I knew he struggled. At first, he was grateful. Then, he became entitled, telling me that once he graduated, his "future earnings" would be mine, so my spending was just an "investment."

The audacity was breathtaking.

"Wheres my stuff?" I asked. "Give it here."

Jordan held up a large shopping bag, threatening to drop it. "Who wants this junk? I only took it because I didn't want to embarrass you."

"If it breaks, you're paying full retail price," I said coldly.

He froze. He couldn't afford to pay for a sandwich, let alone a Rolex. He handed the bag over with a trembling hand, his face flushed with shame.

Teresa signaled for a soda, and Bella immediately poured it and placed it in front of her like a servant. Teresa nodded, dismissed her with a wave, and looked at me like I was dirt.

"What," I said, "did you become a paraplegic in the last three hours? You cant pour your own drink?"

"You!" Teresa slammed her hand on the table. The table wobbled, and the entire glass of dark soda spilled directly onto her pristine white dressthe one shed saved for months to buy.

"No!!" she shrieked, looking at the ruin of her only 'expensive' outfit. She pointed a shaking finger at me. "This is your fault! Kneel! Kneel right now!"

"You've been watching too many teen dramas, Teresa. You're not a princess; you're a roommate with a stain on her lap."

I ignored her and sat down at an empty table nearby. The smell of the broth was actually amazing. "Waiter! Menu, please!"