What doesn’t kill you… Chapter 2

Sun stabbed through my eyelids, hot and sharp. I groaned, threw an arm over my face, tried to block it out.

Then it hit me.

Last night.

My chest clenched, my breath caught. My whole body jerked upright like I’d been shocked awake—except… except I shouldn’t have been able to sit up at all.

I shouldn’t have been able to move.

Hell, I shouldn’t even be breathing.

I remembered the crack. The rock. Neck locked up, body gone stiff, just staring at the damn stars while Tanner and Noah panicked like little boys. I remember thinking, this is it. I was dead.

But now?

I was sitting. Upright. Heart pounding, but strong. Steady.

I blinked against the sun, finally opened my eyes.

Trees. Forest floor. A mess of pine needles and dirt under me. My clothes were still on, ragged from the fall, I guessed, but my skin? Perfect. No scratches. No bruises. No blood.

I flexed my fingers. Rolled my wrists. Bent my knees. Moved my ankles. All of it worked. All of it felt… stronger.

I pushed up to my feet.

Not just mobile. Electric. Like something was humming under my skin. Energy running hot through my veins, buzzing at my muscles.

“What the fuck…” I muttered, staring down at myself, then back up at the ridge above.

The drop was unmistakable. Hundred feet, easy. I could still see where the grass had torn at the edge, where they’d shoved me.

That fall should’ve killed me. And I was already half dead to start with.

Paralyzed, limp, gone.

And now I was standing here. Breathing. Feeling stronger.

I touched my side. No pain. My back. No ache. Even Rhett’s old bruises were gone, like they’d never existed.

I tilted my head back, eyes locked on that cliff edge.

“They threw me off that,” I whispered. “And I woke up better?”

I laughed once, sharp and bitter.

Sun felt too warm on my skin, almost mocking. This couldn’t be real. I should’ve been broken in pieces down there by the rocks, blood soaking into the dirt. Not standing here, breathing like I’d just slept eight hours in a hotel bed instead of taking a hundred-foot dive.

For a second I just laughed, bitter in my throat. This can’t be. Ain’t no way.

Then the memories came. Tanner’s smug face. Noah’s panic. Their voices. Their hands shoving me like I was trash to toss. My chest burned. Rage boiled up hotter than the sun overhead.

I snapped, kicked the nearest rock—football-sized, round, heavy. Just meant to vent, just meant to hear it skid across the dirt.

Instead it shot like a bullet.

Whistled through the air and smashed into a tree a hundred feet away. Bark exploded, trunk gouged deep, rock split to dust.

I froze.

“What the actual fuck…”

My pulse thundered in my ears. Did I just do that? No way. My boot still tingled from the contact, but there was no ache, no bruise. I felt stronger—hell, I felt perfect.

But that?

I crouched down, grabbed another. This one fist-sized. Solid. Should’ve weighed heavy in my palm. Didn’t. Felt like styrofoam.

I wound up and hurled it.

The damn thing sailed—high, clean, fast—two hundred feet easy before it clanged off an outcrop and vanished into the trees.

“Holy fuck.”

I just stood there, staring at my hands like they didn’t belong to me.

I wasn’t dead.

I was stronger.

Not just stronger—mind-blowing stronger.

“Alright… okay… let’s see.”

There was a fallen branch a little deeper into the clearing. Big one. Longer than me, thick as a fence post. Should’ve been heavy. I bent, grabbed it one-handed—lifted it right up.

My eyes went wide. “No way. No fucking way.”

I raised it overhead, grabbed on with my other hand. Snapped it.

CRACK.

Like nothing. Like dry kindling.

“Holy shit!” I tossed the halves aside, heart racing.

I needed more.

I stomped toward the creek, leaves crunching under my boots. Stared at the rocks littering the bank, about to grab one, then spotted something bigger. Chest-high boulder, half-buried in the current. The kind of thing you’d need a backhoe to move.

“No chance,” I muttered, crouching down. Hands on slick stone, I pulled. It budged.

“Fuck—no way.” I yanked harder. It tore loose from the riverbed with a sucking groan. Water rushed around my boots as I lifted the bastard over my head.

It was massive—bigger than a refrigerator. I could feel the weight, but it didn’t crush me. Didn’t even make me stumble.

“Jesus Christ!” My laugh cracked into a curse. “This is—holy shit, fuck!”

I tossed it. It spun once before slamming into a tree. The trunk splintered, bark exploding.

I staggered back, breath coming fast. My hands shook. “This can’t be real… this can’t be…”

But my eyes locked on a trunk ahead. Thick. Old. Straight up a hundred feet.

“Alright. Last test.”

I walked up, pressed both palms against the bark. Braced my boots, leaned in, pushed.

At first, nothing. Just the creak of wood. I dug in harder. My arms tensed, muscles humming like live wire.

Then—crack.

Roots tore from the ground. Dirt sprayed. The tree leaned, groaning, fighting me. I gritted my teeth, shoved with everything I had.

It toppled.

A hundred-foot pine crashing through the forest, branches snapping like gunfire, earth shaking when it hit.

I stood there, chest heaving, hands still pressed to the air where it had stood.

“Holy fuck… holy—holy fuck.”

I laughed, breathless. Then laughed again. “I just… I just knocked over a goddamn tree.”

I wiped sweat from my forehead, still staring at the mess.

“What the actual fuck am I?”

I kept walking, boots crunching through the underbrush, heart pounding like a drum in my throat. Awestruck. Exhilarated. Shocked out of my damn mind.

“What the fuck…” I whispered, still staring at my own hands.

Then it started to click. Bryant. The clinic. Those tests. Running that treadmill at fifteen miles an hour without breaking a sweat. Coming out of Rhett’s beating with no scars by morning. Pushing Tanner ten feet like he weighed nothing.

It all lined up.

“Son of a bitch…” I laughed, sharp and wild. “I went in trying to get some cash, and I walk out with this? Who the fuck knows what Bryant pumped into me. Sure as hell wasn’t legal.”

My smile dropped a little, suspicion sinking in. If it did this? It sure as hell wasn’t safe. But then again, who gave a shit about a Stackhouse girl? Not until she’s out here toppling trees with her bare hands.

I spat into the dirt, shook my head. No way I’m letting that slick bastard keep the truth to himself. I’ll check in on Bryant. He’s gonna tell me exactly what the hell he dosed me with—and where it came from.

I was still walking, the forest buzzing hot around me, when I heard it.

Low. Rumbling.

Growling.

I froze, every muscle sparking with that new hum.

“Oh…” I muttered, lips curling.

Out of the brush came a coyote, lean and ragged, ribs showing. It stalked slow, head low, teeth flashing. My gut tightened. Instinct screamed run. I knew that sound. I knew what it meant.

Normally they don’t bother with people. But this one wasn’t stopping. And behind it—shapes moving. More eyes in the brush. A pack.

“Fuck…” I breathed, glancing around. No escape.

The first one stepped closer, lips curling back, that guttural groan rolling out. I threw my hands up a little, voice shaky despite myself.

“Easy, boy. Easy. I’m not here for you.”

My body knew better. Fear cut through me, old instincts louder than this new buzz in my veins. I’d fought people before—men, girls, drunks. But this was different. This was wild.

It lunged.

I screamed and raised my arm, covering my face. Felt its jaws clamp down, teeth digging—pressure, heavy, brutal.

But no pain.

I blinked, staring at the fur shaking against my forearm. Its teeth weren’t going through. Nothing broke skin.

“What the hell—”

The coyote snarled, eyes wide, confused. I moved my arm, and it swung with it, hanging on like a ragdoll. No blood. No wound. Just its weight.

Then instinct flipped. I lashed my arm, harder this time. The animal flew—flew—into a tree trunk with a sickening thud. Slumped to the dirt. Motionless.

I gasped. “Fuck! Holy fuck!”

The rest of the pack scattered, yelping into the woods.

I stood there, chest heaving, staring at my bare skin. Not a mark. Not even a scratch.

Strength, yeah. I already knew I had that. But this?

I looked at my arm again, flexed my hand. Invulnerable.

My lips curled into a stunned grin. “Oh… oh, this just keeps getting better.”

I kept walking, boots brushing through pine needles, heart still racing. Felt weird—freaked out even—but goddamn, I’d never felt better in my life. This was insane. Fucking insane.

But insane good.

Bryant. I had to check in on that smug bastard. He knew what he put in me, and now I wanted answers. Hell, I wanted more. But it wasn’t just him. My mind buzzed with a list of other people I could “visit” with this new strength—old scores itching for a rewrite.

First things first: back to Ashwyck.

The tree line opened, and up ahead a wall of rock rose out of nowhere—twenty feet, easy. Sheer, jagged, cutting the forest clean. My first thought was to go around it, maybe head right, keep moving until I found a way up.

But then I laughed.

Why not?

I crouched, coiling my legs, boots digging into the dirt. “Let’s see what happens.”

Pushed. Hard.

I shot skyward, way past the ledge. Blew right past twenty feet—thirty, forty, higher than fifty before I realized it.

“Holy shit—no, no, no!”

Air rushed past me as I dropped like a stone. The ground rushed up.

THUD.

The impact boomed out, dirt spraying, earth cracked under me. I stood in a shallow crater, dust swirling. My chest heaved, adrenaline screaming.

No pain. Not even a bruise.

I stared at my hands, then at the mess I’d just made.

“Holy… holy fuck.”

A laugh ripped out of me, half-wild, half-disbelieving.

“Guess I don’t do normal anymore.”

I’d been walking a while, letting the quiet of the forest sink in, my head spinning with what-ifs. Every step felt light, easy, like the whole world was made of rubber and I was just bouncing through it. My imagination wandered—Bryant, Ashlyn, Rhett, a dozen faces that deserved a little payback—all stacked up in my mind like targets at a shooting range. And, of course, Tanner and Noah.

Eventually the trees broke, and I hit the edge of the woods.

Farmland. A weathered fence line cutting across the open. A farmhouse sitting quiet in the distance. Perfect. Obvious choice. I could figure out where the hell I’d landed, how far back to Ashwyck, maybe even bum a ride.

I headed toward it, boots brushing through grass. Reached the fence and hopped it with a lazy spring. Barely bent my knees, and I cleared it easy, landing light, balanced. Elegant. Like a gymnast sticking the dismount.

I grinned. “Goddamn, that’s fun.”

Then came the barking.

A big dog tore around the side of the house, hackles up, teeth bared. My heart kicked once, instinct screaming—but then I smirked. Not afraid. Not anymore.

“Easy, boy,” I called, hands up. “I don’t wanna hurt you.”

Didn’t matter. It lunged.

This time I didn’t flinch. I caught it mid-air, one hand clamped around its throat. Held it right in front of my face, its body thrashing, teeth snapping inches away.

I chuckled. “You got spirit, I’ll give you that.”

It snarled, claws scrabbling against my arm, no sting, no pain.

“I like dogs,” I told it, calm as a whisper. “Ain’t lookin’ to hurt you.”

Then I tapped its head with my fist, light, almost playful.

The animal went limp, knocked out cold.

I lowered it gently to the grass, gave its ear a pat.

“Sleep it off, tough guy.”

Then I stood, eyes on the silent farmhouse.

“Now… let’s see who else is home.”

I left the mutt lying back there, stretched out in the dirt, chest still moving. I kept walking, eyes on the farmhouse. Quiet place. Too quiet. Not a damn sound. Maybe no one was home.

Then I spotted it in the driveway—an old, fat pickup, red paint faded to chalk, chrome dull. Big bastard, heavy-duty, the kind you use to drag half the farm behind you. I circled it slow, gravel crunching under my boots, grinning already.

That boulder earlier had given so easy. I wanted to know how far this went.

I planted both hands on the bumper. Bent my knees. Pulled. The whole back end lifted off the gravel with a groan, tires hanging. My stomach jumped.

“Ohhh, holy shit,” I laughed, half under my breath.

I let one hand go. The truck dipped, but I steadied it, arm shaking but not giving out.

“No way… I’m doin’ it with one hand,” I muttered, stunned at the words coming out of me.

Not enough. I wanted more.

I shifted, ducked lower, wedged my other hand under the wheel arch. Feet wide. Breath in. I drove upward. Gravel spat from under my boots. My shoulders lit up like fire, but it wasn’t pain—it was power. And then I had it, the whole damn truck, balanced over my head like a barbell.

“Oh my god… three tons, easy… and I’m holdin’ it.” The laugh tore out of me, raw, echoing off the barn. “I’m fuckin’ holdin’ it!”

The joy ran like electricity through me, every nerve buzzing. I wanted the whole world to see.

And then I heard it.

That dry, mean click of a shotgun cocking.

A man’s voice, gravelly, steady, right behind me:

“Put my truck down. Now.”

I turned slow, truck still balanced overhead like it was nothing more than a weight at the gym. My arms weren’t even screaming yet. And there he was.

Farm owner, had to be. Mid-fifties, wiry frame with a belly starting to sag, gray stubble on his chin, plaid shirt gone thin with sweat. He had a shotgun leveled right at me, but his face told the real story—eyes wide, pupils pinpricked, lips twitching. Rattled to the bone. Guess that’s what happens when you see some girl holding your pickup like it’s a cardboard box.

I caught the flicker too—that raw, sudden heat in his eyes when they ran over me. Didn’t last long, fear buried it. But I saw it.

I tilted the truck higher, just to rub it in, and put on a mock-sweet smile.

“Oh… that yours?”

He flinched like I’d slapped him. His finger tightened hard on the trigger. “Drop it! Right now!”

I shrugged under the weight, voice lilting, playful.

“Relax. I just wanted to check it out. Check myself out. Was gonna give it back. What was I gonna do, carry it off with me?”

“No more talk!” he barked, teeth clenched. “Put. It. Down!”

His tone soured my grin. “Alright, fine,” I sighed, rolling my eyes. Instead of easing it back, I tossed it aside like it bored me. The pickup crashed onto its side, frame buckling with a metallic scream. Windows burst out, glass raining down. It rocked once, twice, then rolled over onto its roof with a groan. “Oops. Guess you shouldn’t’a rushed me.”

His face drained white. His chest heaved like his heart might break out of his ribs. “What… what the hell are you?”

I leaned on one hip, smirk curling slow.

“Oh, tough guy, you don’t even wanna know.”

“On your knees!” His voice cracked. “Hands where I can see ‘em! I’m callin’ the cops.”

I laughed in his face. “That’s not a good idea.”

“Do it!” he barked, sweat dripping down his temple.

I stepped closer, truck dust still swirling in the air. My smile spread, all teeth. “Come on, don’t be like that.”

“Stop right there!” His voice was ragged, high with panic.

I kept walking, hips loose, almost on him now. “What, this? This scarin’ you?”

His hands jerked. The shotgun roared.

The blast smacked me in the stomach, a hot sting that ripped the air out of my lungs. I staggered, eyes wide. Looked down—top shredded open, skin burning… but no blood. No hole. Nothing.

“What the fuck…” I whispered, clutching at the spot.

He stared like he’d seen a ghost. Racked the pump, fired again. Another thundercrack, another burst of pain, same sting, same burn. And still—nothing. My skin held.

Something in me snapped. The heat of it, the rage, came out fast. I took the last step and, before he could fire again, I caught the barrel one-handed. Steel buckled in my grip. With a flick I hurled it—saw it spin end-over-end, glinting in the sun, vanish three football fields out.

And then—before I even thought about it—I backhanded him.

Full force.

He left the ground like a ragdoll, body whipping through the air. He slammed against the side of the silo with a metallic boom, denting the steel, stuck there for half a breath before peeling off and hitting the ground twenty feet down.

“Oh fuck. Oh fuck!”

I ran forward, heart jackhammering. He lay twisted, curled in on himself. Fifty feet out, twenty feet up… that impact was brutal. He wasn’t moving. He wasn’t…

My throat locked tight.

I’d killed a man.

I stood there staring at him, body twisted in the dirt. My pulse hammered in my ears. I’d done that. But he’d shot at me. Twice. What the hell was I supposed to do, just let him keep firing?

Then the scream hit. Sharp, from the house. My head snapped around.

I rushed back, truck wreckage still smoking behind me. A face in the window—woman, late forties, lines deep around her mouth. His wife. She saw me, saw her man in the dirt, and shrieked bloody murder before ducking out of sight.

I raised my hands a little, voice carrying.

“Hey! I didn’t mean for that to happen… he shot at me, alright? I didn’t wanna do that!”

Her shadow whipped back inside. Footsteps hammered across floorboards, hurried, panicked. Funny thing was—I could hear it clear as crystal. Every creak, every pound of her heels, like the walls weren’t even there.

Weird. And kind of… thrilling.

I called again, already moving for the porch.

“Come on out! Let’s talk this out, I ain’t here to hurt you!”

But then—click. A phone line opening. My skin prickled. That wouldn’t do.

I put a hand to the door, pushed. Wood shrieked as the whole thing tore free from its hinges. I stepped inside with the frame dangling off my fingers like cheap cardboard. Didn’t even shock me this time—I’d half expected it. That’s how fast I was getting used to what I could do.

There she was at the end of the hall, phone to her ear. I knew the cadence of the sound: nine-one-one.

My voice cut sharp.

“Don’t do that.”

I started forward. She froze, then dropped the phone with a clatter and bolted.

I crouched, scooped it up, crushed the plastic to grit in my fist. “Told you not to.”

The house was quiet now but for her running. I moved slow, measured, the predator’s pace. Every creak under my shoes was deliberate. My voice carried after her.

“Come on out, lady. We can clear this mess, nice and easy.”

My chest still throbbed where the shotgun hit. It hurt, no doubt about that. But no blood. No wound. Just pain that faded into nothing. I’d been shot and stood here unharmed. Surreal. And goddamn amazing.

I rounded the corner—

—and she lunged. A flash of silver. The kitchen knife drove straight into me, right at my chest. The tip bent sideways against my skin, squealing across the fabric. She slammed into me with her full weight, the knife clattering from her hand.

“Really?” I barked a laugh, shoving her back.

She flew across the living room, crashing through the table, wood splintering under her, then rolling onto the sofa.

“Oops,” I muttered, breathless. “Didn’t mean to throw that hard.”

The woman groaned where she’d landed, half-slumped in the sofa cushions, glassy-eyed from the crash. She clutched her side, breath ragged. I’d thrown her harder than I meant to—maybe cracked a rib or two.

I tilted my head, grinning sharp.

“See? I told you I just wanted a word. Look what you made me do.”

I crouched low, picked up the kitchen knife off the floor. The blade caught the light, bent clean at the tip. I held it up between us, amused.

“Really thought this was gonna work?”

I pressed the warped edge against the skin of my forearm. It bent more with the pressure, squealing as the steel twisted out of shape. I kept pushing until the whole point was curled like a cheap bottle cap. My smile spread.

“Guess I’m tougher than your cutlery.”

I tossed the knife aside with a clatter. Then I eased down next to her, careful this time, crouching slow, deliberate. She flinched when I reached out, eyes wide, ready for another hit. But all I did was brush a strand of hair from her face. Her breath hitched, shallow, pained.

“Something broken?” I asked, softer.

Her answer came in a sob. “I… I don’t know.”

I let out a slow breath, shaking my head. “Didn’t mean to toss you like that. Still gettin’ used to how strong I am.”

Her shoulders shook harder, the tears breaking loose. “My… my husband…”

I sat back on my heels, eyes narrowing. “Didn’t wanna kill him. But he shot me—twice. And when I let go, I guess I let go a little too strong.” I shrugged, though the words came heavy. “Still gettin’ used to that. A pity.”

The woman’s lips trembled, voice cracked. “W-what… what do you want?”

I leaned an elbow on my knee, watching her squirm. “Nothin’ much. Just wanna know where the hell I am.”

She tried to speak, words tumbling over sobs, naming roads and towns like it might help. I cut her short. “You got a smartphone?”

She nodded, eyes darting to the kitchen.

“Where is it?”

“K… kitchen,” she whispered.

I got up, strode across the broken table and splintered wood, and found it sitting on the counter. I held it up. “PIN.”

Her shoulders slumped. She rattled off the numbers.

I keyed it in, thumb flying until Google Maps popped up. Ashwyck. Seventy-two miles. My chest sank a little. “Shit. Further than I thought.”

I zoomed in, followed the veins of the roads. “This secondary road… only way there?”

She nodded fast, still clutching her side. “It… it joins the main one. A few miles down.”

I traced it with my finger, lips pressed. “So… by car.” I glanced out the window toward the pickup’s wrecked frame. “Guess I fucked yours a little. Looks like I’ll be walkin’.”

My laugh came sharp, half for me, half for her. “Mile or so to the road, right? No big deal. I’ll catch a ride.”

I turned back, phone still in hand. She stared at me like she was waiting for the end.

“You gonna be alright?”

She gave a shaky nod, tears streaking her cheeks.

“Good.” I held up the phone, wiggling it between my fingers. “I’ll keep this, if you don’t mind.”

Her only answer was another sob.

I was halfway turned to the door when it hit me—I had all the cards now. She was broken up on that sofa, too scared to move, and I was the one walking out with her phone, her answers, her world flipped upside down.

I turned back, let my voice cut through her sobbing.

“Listen close. I’m leavin’ now. But you go callin’ the cops?” I mimed a snap with two fingers. “I’ll be back, and I’ll break your neck like a twig. Got it?”

Her eyes widened, her whole body shuddering. She nodded so fast I thought she might faint.

That satisfied curl spread across my lips. I stepped out the door, through the wrecked frame still hanging loose.

Out on the porch, the sun hit me, warm and sharp. My stride felt different. Steadier. Stronger. Behind me lay a wrecked truck, a shattered table, and a dead man I’d sent flying. And somehow, it didn’t crush me. Didn’t freeze me. It slotted into place, like another brick in whatever this new thing was.

I walked down the drive, light on my feet, and for the first time, I really believed it: whatever I’d turned into, it was astonishing.