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My head pounded, a familiar ache, as I slowly sat up in my dorm room, sunlight streaming through the window. But something was terribly wrong; the last thing I remembered was my farewell party before London, a drink from Brianna, and then a confusing blank. Now, my phone confirmed the impossible: September 5th, move-in day, the exact beginning of my freshman year. A cold dread washed over me, stomach churning, as the door creaked open, revealing Brianna Evans, my new roommate. She was slinging a cheap, shiny black jacket over her arm – a blatant, terrible knock-off of my AllSaints leather jacket, the one I had just worn in my real past. It hit me then: I was trapped in a horrifying loop, forced to relive every cruel detail of the previous timeline. I remembered her subtle digs, the stolen moments, the way she'd mimic me, then twist things until I looked like the villain, the prestigious internship I lost, the friendships she sabotaged, the reputation she systematically destroyed. My blood ran cold, then hot with a fury born of knowing exactly what she was. How could I be back here, forced to endure this slow-motion psychological torture all over again? The sheer unfairness of facing her again, knowing the devastation she' d leave in her wake, was almost unbearable. But deep within me, the old Ash – the one who was kind, accommodating, and always gave the benefit of the doubt – was gone, poisoned out of existence by Brianna's venom. This time, things would be drastically different. The game was on, and though she thought she held all the cards, I knew the rules now. I had a lifetime of future knowledge, and this time, the winner wouldn't be Brianna. My future was finally mine to reclaim.