Stuck in the day

Mystery
5 out of 5 (14 )

Once again, I need to prepare myself for yet another miserable night of drowning myself in guilt. My own reflection calls me a killer.....

Consuming a sedative I am off like a light.

Waking up, I was stupefied.. I was In my old apartment, the same one that.....

"Cheryl, are you there?" this can't be real. He can't be here. Hesitantly I open the door to my apartment and..... Brad.

"Cheryl, thank god you are here I saw Mary down the street and she told me everything, I am so sorry... Come here you need a hug."

I am way too shocked to hug him back as the events of that night played again for umpteenth time, only this time it felt different it felt too.... Real. Like I am actually living that day again after 5 years.

I tilt my head to look at the clock ticking loudly at the surface wall on the left.

12:37pm

4 hours 39 minutes till everything goes downhill.

" Okay, I am going to right across the hall of you need anything, don't do something I wouldn't do" he kisses my forehead tenderly " You are a strong girl" and with that he is out of my dingy apartment.

What am I supposed to do? How can I save him? Even if it's just a dream, I still don't want to see blood on my hands.

If I can just.....

5:16 pm.8 October,2017.My apartment. P92 CO2 PISTOL. My hand. Shouting. His chest. Blood. Panic.

It all came rushing back to me in flashes.

I went back to my room that took out the pistol from underneath my bed. I know what I have to do, what I should have done. Wrapping it up in a cloth then another one then packing it up in a Nike box, I find a place far away from my residence to dispose the weapon.

And now I wait, the ticking noice is louder than ever, like it's ticking in my head.

5:10 pm.

Anyminute now.

Ding Dong.

"Cheryl, I am here."

"Cheryl! "

I didn't want to hurt him.

I was trying to hurt myself.

He just got in the way.

But it won't happen this time. "Brad, What brings you here?"

" I just wanted to check up on you, how are you holding up? Wait. Why don't you sit down while I cook us some pasta."

Feeling a little less anxious, I decide to wait for him while he cooks.

I glance at the mirror only to be petrified at the sight of my own reflection. Myself - covered in blood. Blood covering my clothes and a........ Knife, in my hands.

'No, this is just a hallucination, all of this is not real.' I persuade myself.

In a haze, I walk towards the kitchen where he is chopping the vegetables skillfully.

"Do you need any help?"

"Yes, chop the vegetables while I prepare the sauce"

I hesitantly took the knife from him.

Chopping the vegetables with surfacing fear, I sliced my palm. "Cheryl, your hand."

He reaches to touch my hand but I push him away. I don't want to hurt him.

"Cher, let me help you."

NO.

"Cher, it's okay, it's just a small cut."

I pick up the knife in a succumbed state. Severed him without realizing.

OH NO.

"BRAD!!"

Blood everywhere.On my clothes. On the counter. Knife. My hands. My fault. My fault. MY FAULT.

I fall to the ground, crying.

Oh my god. It was a dream.

I wake up and......... WHAT THE-??!

Same apartment. 12:35 pm. 8th October, 2017.

What is happening?

"Cheryl, are you there?"

"Cheryl, thank god you are here I saw Mary down the street and she told me everything, I am so sorry... Come here you need a hug."

" Okay, I am going to right across the hall of you need anything, don't do something I wouldn't do."

" You are a strong girl."

If this is not a dream. Then what am I supposed to do? How can I escape the haunting events of 8th October if everyday is 8th October, 2017.

Maybe I should do what I originally intended to do.

Rushing to my room, pointing the pistol at my head.

This ends here.

And then the deafening noice.

Then nothing.

8th October, 2017. 12:35pm

I wake up.

Once again.

The events replayed, I didn't commit suicide, I didn't dispose the pistol.

5:10 pm.

Brad walk in...

He is preparing the pasta for us while I am oddly tranquil.

"Pasta is ready!"

"Are you okay?" He asks when I don't budge from my place. I give him a vacant look as he nears me and engulfs me in his arms. I missed this. I missed him.

I bury my head in the crook of his neck and unknowingly the tear starts to fall out of my eyes, soaking his T-shirt. He runs his fingers through my hair in a soothing manner.

That day, I cried my heart out.

Not just for him but also for my deceased mother.

The evening followed with him comforting me and I can't stop thinking how easy this is. If I could have just been sane enough to not think about suicide, I could have surmount all those events.

8th October, 2022. 12:35pm.

I wake up to find myself tangled in some

one's arms, cautiously I turn around to find the sleeping face of BRAD.

He's here.

He's alive.

"Good morning, sleepyhead" he mumbles in his sleepy voice.

He's alive.

He's alive.

He's alive.

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