Pale orange light from the beginnings of the sunset filtered in through the kitchen window. Naomi hardly even noticed. She was too busy moping. Of course she was glad about having saved Lyla and her mother, but she hadn't realized that doing so would result in both of them being mad at her. It was still much better to have them alive and angry than dead and gone. It just hadn't occurred to Naomi that those might be her only two options.
The first thing she'd done when she'd gotten home was walk into the kitchen and sit down at the table. She'd felt overheated and exhausted, sweat trickling down her body all over. At some point she'd realized that it was abnormally warm inside her own house, and that was when she'd noticed that the oven was still on. She'd hopped up and turned it off, feeling even more like a failure as she'd sat back down at the table. She hadn't moved since then.
She felt awful for the Murphys. Sure, she was glad that they were going to be okay but she still felt bad for them. A part of her wished she could just explain it all to them. Maybe then she wouldn't have created such a mess for everyone. Maybe then Lyla and her mother wouldn't see her as the girl who sent Kurt Murphy away from them again.
There was a click as the deadbolt on her front door was unlocked, alerting her to the fact that her father was home. The aggressive clang that followed as the door itself swung violently inward told her that he too was in a foul mood. He stomped inside, slamming the door shut before marching into the kitchen. He paused for a moment when he spotted her. As best as Naomi could tell he was gathering his thoughts together before launching into a tirade.
"I was out with Mikey," he told her with a huff, "and I got a phone call."
Naomi didn't respond. She knew that tone of voice from her father. She knew that despite the dramatic pauses he took that seemed like an offer for her to join the conversation, the worst thing she could do right then was jump in with her side of the story. She refused to take the bait. Instead she kept quiet and waited for him to continue.
After a moment, he added, "The call was from Heather Murphy. Lyla's mother. She was a little upset and boy, after what she told me I can hardly blame her."
He gave her a pointed look, daring her to speak. Naomi politely stared back at him, waiting for him to continue. She still didn't say anything in her defense.
"Why?" her father demanded, crossing his arms as he glared down at her. "Help me out here, because I sincerely do not understand what you could have been thinking. How could you think meddling in some other family's lives could be okay? The extent that you went to just to mess everything up-- I just don't get it, Naomi. I do not get it."
Naomi folded her hands together on top of the table. A burning sensation behind her eyes warned her of a new wave of tears. She blinked them back down, keeping her head lowered so her dad couldn't see how close she was to breaking. Of course she felt bad about what she did. She knew it was wrong, but she also had to do it. There was no way she could explain that the man was a murderer though. Her proof only existed now in an alternate timeline. She doubted her dad would believe anything like that.
Her dad brought a fist down against the table, creating a threatening bang that made Naomi jump. "Look at me when I'm talking to you!" he insisted. Naomi lifted her head, trembling as she met her father's eyes. He leaned closer to her. "Why did you do it?"
"I was just trying to help Lyla," she whimpered, her voice coming out as little more than a squeak.
Her father only shook his head in response. Apparently that answer was not what he was looking for. The disappointment was written all over his face as he let out a long sigh. He lifted a hand, pointing her down the hall. "Just go to your room," he said, sounding defeated.
She didn't wait to be told twice. Naomi hopped out of her chair and scurried down the hall to her room. As soon as the door was shut behind her she dropped to the floor. The tears she'd been holding back all day came flooding down her face as she hugged her knees to her chest. She still couldn't figure out how she'd both succeeded and failed at the same time. Chasing Mr. Murphy out of town had seemed like the right call at the time. Now though she wasn't so sure.
'No,' she thought defiantly, roughly wiping away her tears. 'I had to. If he'd stayed here, he would have killed Lyla and Mrs. Murphy. I did what I had to. It was the right call.'
It still puzzled her how even the right call could feel wrong. She leaned her head against the side of her mattress as she wallowed in misery. She desperately hoped that Lyla could forgive her. She thought maybe in a few days it would be safe to bake her more goodies and try again at a face-to-face apology. The key word of course being "maybe."
Her phone buzzed in her back pocket. A wild hope seized her that the call might be from Lyla. She fumbled with it for a moment before bringing it out and glancing ecstatically at the screen. The caller ID showed her it was Eli. Her chest deflated at the realization that Lyla was definitely still furious with her, but she still pressed the green phone icon and brought the device up to her ear.
"Naomi?" Eli asked, sounding hesitant.
Naomi shifted so her back was leaning against the mattress. Her legs stretched out in front of her, rubbing back and forth against the carpet as she shifted them side to side. "Hey," she greeted feebly. "How's it going?"
"Uh, I'm not sure yet," Eli confessed. "Y'know, our last call ended kind of abruptly. It was weird, and you kind of freaked me out."
"Oh," Naomi said, and she shrugged even though she knew Eli couldn't see her. "Sorry about that."
"It's okay," Eli assured her. He sounded awkward. Naomi knew him well enough to know he had a reason for calling. She almost wondered if he somehow knew what had happened. There was hesitation in the silence oozing from his end. Obviously he was psyching himself up for something. "Uh, is everything alright?"
Naomi outright laughed at that. Everything was so not alright, and it hadn't been for a really long time. Not that Eli could have guessed that. "I was about to ask you the same thing," she said into the phone.
There was a weird static on his end before he replied, "Everything here is fine, I'm just worried about you."
Naomi frowned at that. He definitely knew something, she just didn't know what. "Why would you be worried?" she asked.
Eli sighed, the phone warbling the sound so that he sounded a surprising amount like Darth Vader. "Look Naomi, I really don't want--"
A loud pounding at the door, followed by the booming roar of, "NAOMI MARIELLA GREEN!" drowned out the rest of Eli's response. There was only half a second between the outburst and the moment her father threw open her bedroom door and stormed in. He thrust out a hand to her, palm up.
"I've gotta go," Naomi spoke quickly into the phone. "Bye Eli."
"Wait!" he called out, sounding frantic. "Naomi, I--"
A pang of guilt shot threw her as she hit the button to end the call, hanging up on him for the second time that day. Her father snapped his fingers at her. "Phone. Now!" he demanded. Without another word, she handed it over. Her father shook his head at her again. "I really cannot believe you today."
He turned on his heel, her phone clutched so tightly in his hand that his knuckles were turning white. As he strode purposefully out of her room, Naomi found that she couldn't believe herself either; maybe she wasn't doing the right thing.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
A gentle hand on her shoulder startled her awake. It was odd because she didn't remember falling asleep. She must have dozed off at some point though because her room was pitch black now. Even the moonlight was concealed by a thick mass of clouds. For some reason, that simple observation made her more uneasy.
She unleashed a yawn and looked around her dark room. She squinted and blinked until her eyes adjusted to the low light. Once they did, she spotted the culprit responsible for waking her up. A sad smile flitted across her lips.
"Come to say goodbye?" she asked, addressing the fallen angel in her bedroom.
DJ regarded her for a moment, though it was too dark for Naomi to make out the demon's expression. "You had a bit of a rough day," she remarked.
Naomi scoffed. "You could say that."
"Lyla was quite angry at you," DJ noted. "The baked goods didn't seem to help."
"I know," Naomi sighed, struggling to her feet so she could stretch out her sore limbs. It turned out that napping on her bedroom floor was not a good way to limber up. "I did what I had to do though."
DJ tilted her head. "Did you?" she questioned.
"Yes," Naomi insisted, anxiety fluttering through her chest. "I found out who the murderer was, and I convinced him to leave town so he wouldn't amp himself up and kill my bestfriend and her mother. It sucks that they're mad at me, but at least they're not dead. You already know about that."
"That much is true," DJ agreed. Something shined against her cheek, but Naomi couldn't see well enough to figure out what it was. "I know too much about this situation."
Naomi awkwardly scratched at the back of her neck. She wasn't sure where to go from here. "I'll miss you," she offered. It wasn't a lie. DJ was odd and definitely irritating at times, but Naomi was definitely going to miss having the demon around.
"Oh, you ignorant child," DJ sniffed. "You don't have to miss me yet."
Naomi stared at the demon, praying she was wrong in the interpretation she'd received from that statement. All she could think though was that she knew now what was shining on her cheeks: the demon was crying, and her tears were illuminated in the dark.
She shook her head, willing it not to be true. "No."
DJ sighed. "I'm sorry, Naomi," she said, and the anguish in her voice let her know that it was true. The demon really was sorry.
"No!" Naomi said again, insistent this time. "I did everything right! I found out who the killer was and I talked him into leaving town!"
"Except you didn't," DJ told her gently. "I'm sorry, but Kurt Murphy is not the killer. He never was. He was just a case of wrong time, wrong place."
"I can't believe it," Naomi sobbed. "So Lyla and her mother?"
"Dead," DJ confirmed. "Murdered again."
Naomi sank to her knees, the carpeted floor breaking her fall again. She was failing at this. She'd been given a chance to save the people she loved most and she was failing. Not only was she letting them die, she was hurting them in the process. If she couldn't figure this out then she would be the one responsible for both of their deaths. She wasn't sure if she could handle that.
"Naomi," DJ spoke gently. "You still have another chance. You can still save them."
"I only have one left," Naomi reminded her, voice barely audible through her tears. "And right now I'm not any closer to knowing how to save them than I was when we started this."
"You'll figure it out," DJ told her firmly. She placed a hand on her shoulder before tugging her gently to her feet. She tugged her cloak over her hand and then used it to wipe the tears off of Naomi's face. "I have faith in you."
Naomi regarded the demon mournfully. "Can't you at least tell me who it is?" she begged, referring to the killer.
"No," DJ told her, shaking her head to reiterate her response. She had the decency to appear remorseful over that, though it meant little to Naomi in the moment.
"Can I have another hint at least?" Naomi pressed. She felt like she was standing on the edge of a precipice about to fall. At the bottom was probably a pit of insanity and despair. It was possible she was only a few inconveniences short of a total mental breakdown.
Perhaps DJ sensed this because she nodded her head at Naomi's request, already looking like she regretted giving in. "Okay," she agreed, "but the most I can tell you is to focus on the constants."
Naomi eyes her suspiciously. "The constants?"
"Yes," DJ answered emphatically. "The constants. Think about all the previous times you've lived through this day. What events happened every time?"
Naomi opened her mouth to respond, but before she could get a single word out in response, the room filled with fire and began swirling.
Her last chance had already begun.