OnAHiatus
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(AAA…) AGAIN AND AGAIN AND AGAIN
🕑 Added 2025-07-17 08:39:09 +0000 UTCTaylor Hebert woke up at 4:37 AM.
The numbers on her alarm clock burned into her vision like a brand, but she didn’t scream. She didn’t even move. She simply lay there, eyes open, staring at the ceiling like it might finally offer a new answer. But there was nothing up there apart from dust, cobwebs, and shadows cast by the moonlight.
It had not mattered that she didn't go to school. It had not mattered that she wandered aimlessly, keeping away from buses and traffic and people. And yet, she’d still died. Not because of anything she did. Not because someone had specifically targeted her. Not even because she made the wrong choice. No, this time, someone else had made it for her. Some man had jumped from the bridge above and landed directly on her.
He probably hadn't meant to do so, but the end result was the same. Her ribs had snapped like twigs, and her vision had gone white, then black, then nothing.
That had been yesterday.
Or rather… the last yesterday.
Taylor swallowed hard. Her throat was dry and tight, like it was trying to strangle her from the inside, but she didn't get up to drink water.
What the hell was she supposed to do?
If she went to school, she died. If she didn’t go to school, she still died. She could sit on a bench, walk through a park, or hide in a library, and a freak accident might still end up happening to her.
Death was the only constant, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. It wasn’t fair that the world—or something in it—wanted her dead. It wasn’t right either.
So she remained where she was, curled in on herself beneath the sheets, resigned. It didn't matter how smart she was or how cautious she tried to be. It would happen anyway. Always.
What was the point of trying to survive again?
Around 6:36 AM, she heard the floor creak outside her room. A gentle knock followed.
"Kiddo?" her dad called, his voice a little unsure. “You in there?”
The door didn’t open though, and the silence stretched for several seconds. She could picture him standing in the hallway, brow furrowed, running a hand through his hair, and trying to guess whether she was sick or still asleep or already out of the house. If only he knew.
If only she could tell him the truth, that his daughter had died thrice already. That she was going to die again, maybe in an hour, maybe in eight, and nothing he said or did could stop it.
At some point, the light behind the curtains grew brighter, and then dimmer. Her stomach gurgled quietly, but she ignored it. She couldn’t remember when she’d last eaten. Hunger felt irrelevant, unable to compare to the bone-deep weight of dread, of futility.
She didn’t cry.
She stayed on her bed all day, with not even a book she could use to pass the time. If she didn’t move, maybe the day wouldn’t count. Maybe she could break the loop by doing absolutely nothing at all.
But eventually, sometime in the gray lull of late afternoon, she closed her eyes. Maybe she slept. Maybe she didn’t. But the next thing she registered was the time on her clock.
4:37 AM.
Again.
She let out a soft, shuddering breath, closer to a whimper than a sob. Filled with disbelief, worn thin by the same hollow resignation.
Another breath followed.
Then the tears came, restrained at first, with just the hot trickle of them down her cheeks and into her pillow. Then her shoulders began to shake, her chest hitching with the effort of keeping it all inside. Her fists balled into the bedsheets, twisting them, trying to hold on to something—anything—but there was nothing. Nothing but the reality that this was her life now. Or rather, her death.
Again and again and again.
She pressed her face into the pillow, smothering herself with it and hoping she could make herself vanish. If she cried quietly enough, maybe the world wouldn’t notice her. Maybe it would forget to kill her. But the sobs came anyway, loud and broken, wracking her body with tremors.
Eventually, the sobs quieted, tapering into hiccuping gasps.
The clock read 4:48 AM.
She rolled onto her side, eyes swollen and throat burning, and stared into the dark. There was no avoiding her fate, she knew that now. Deep in her bones, in her blood.
She would die again today, no matter what she did.
Comments
OnAHiatus
Yeah, I can't dwell on how shitty things are or it would become a chore to read
EverandAnon44
Is depression (for now.) then, shenanigans begin(soon, one would hope.)
