I opened my laptop, the screen casting a pale glow in the dimly lit hospital room. My fingers moved across the keys, typing out everything I could remember since this second chance at life began. The moments spilled out like puzzle pieces, scattered and jagged.
Gabriel and Jessica's betrayal.
The chaos at the mall and Jason's unexpected rescue.
Lola's ordeal—eerily similar to what I experienced before.
The strange moment when I thought I could stop time.
I wrote Question Lola next to the bullet point. What did she know? Was she another pawn in this twisted game of rebirth and secrets or did she have her own secrets?
Was she reborn too? As me?
The thought made me shiver.
That was sick.
Though good name, Rebirth and Secrets.
I instantly changed the file name to that.
I leaned back, staring at the blinking cursor. It felt like everything I knew was slipping through my fingers. I wrote Time stopping: failed with Gabriel. Why? The words stared back at me, taunting me with their mystery. It had worked once—at the mall, with Jason.
Why not with Gabriel?
My eyes narrowed as I thought about my ex. Breaking up with him had been risky, impulsive. I should have done it long before now, should have severed those ties before they choked me again. But the need for control, the desire to take him down, simmered beneath my skin. There were more strategic ways to do it. I had leverage. I knew where the weak points in his career were.
Break him through there, I just need a way. A point
But do I really want to play that game? I wondered, my fingers tapping absently on the keys. Using him to make money was tempting, a shortcut.
But it felt hollow, beneath me.
I wanted to see Gabriel fall, and for that, I needed a more meticulous plan.
Jessica. Her name burned on my tongue. She was a critical piece in this. She had secrets, ones she guarded behind that innocent smile of hers.
And that was the reason I had clawed my way into JFK in the first place. To be close enough to dig up everything she buried. But now, there were too many distractions. Too many wild cards.
Jason.
The thought of him sent a jolt through my system, one I didn't know how to read. I added Jason to my list, followed by question marks. Why did he keep showing up, pulling me into these situations? There was something about him that didn't fit, like a piece from another puzzle that had somehow slipped into mine. His eyes, the way he moved with an edge of familiarity. It was as if he knew more than he let on.
I racked my brain, trying to recall if we had crossed paths before my death. But there was nothing. Just the memory of seeing his face in news articles, the notorious billionaire with a reputation for recklessness. Yet here he was, appearing at every turn of this second life, always watching, always... present.
Groaning, I closed my eyes and leaned back against the headboard. Life was confusing, a tangled mess that refused to untangle itself.
I stared at nothing, the sterile walls of the hospital blurring at the edges as I tried to piece everything together. Every recent event played in my mind like a jumbled film reel, the chaos of it fraying the last strands of my sanity. The drugs they'd given me were doing their job, dragging me into a sleepy fog. My eyelids drooped, but I fought against it, my body tensing.
I can't sleep. Not again. Not the nightmares.
"I can't…" I whispered to the emptiness, my voice barely audible. But the room began to tilt, the pull of sleep too strong. I succumbed, the darkness folding over me like a thick blanket.
---
It was 2025 again, the year my world had shattered into jagged pieces.
I stood in the hallway of my old home, the familiar scent of lilies mixed with something rotten. My heart pounded in my ears as I pushed open the door to our bedroom, already knowing what I'd find but still hoping I was wrong.
There they were, tangled together in the sheets—Gabriel and Jessica.
Jessica riding him. Naked.
Their laughter was cruel, echoing in my skull like a taunt. But this time, the numbness that had consumed me before wasn't there.
Instead, rage flared hot and bright, coursing through my veins like fire.
I didn't cry. I didn't scream. My weak, broken body from that year somehow moved with a strength I didn't recognize. I stumbled to the kitchen, my hands shaking as I grabbed the knife. It glinted in the dim light, sharp and cold.
Back in the room, the world seemed to move in slow motion. Jessica turned her head, eyes widening just as I plunged the knife into her back.
Once.
Twice.
Over and over, each thrust met with a wet, sickening sound. Blood spattered, warm and sticky against my skin.
She gasped, her mouth opening in a silent scream as she crumpled forward.
But when she turned again the face that looked back at me wasn't Jessica's.
It was mine.
I stumbled back, my breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps.
My eyes shifted to the man on the bed, and a chill settled over me as I saw Jason staring back, his expression twisted in shock and betrayal.
"No," I whispered, the knife slipping from my hand and clattering to the floor. "No, no, no…"
A voice slithered into the room, low and mocking. "So, this was your plan? Shame."
The walls seemed to close in, the room spinning faster and faster until I couldn't tell up from down.
I woke with a start, the sheets tangled around my legs and my chest heaving with panicked breaths. The heart monitor beside me beeped erratically, its rhythm mirroring my own. The cold sweat dripped down my temple as I clutched the blanket, trying to convince myself that I was safe—that none of it was real.
Tears welled up in my eyes and spilled over, hot and uncontrollable. The nightmare still clung to me, its echoes squeezing the breath from my lungs. My sobs were small and shuddering, the kind that made me feel both fragile and exhausted. I pressed the back of my hand to my mouth, trying to quiet myself when the door opened.
A nurse walked in, her shoes squeaking softly against the linoleum floor. She looked up, brows furrowing at the sight of me. "Miss Williams, are you alright?" she asked, concern coloring her voice. She glanced at the monitor, noting the erratic beeping.
I tried to pull myself together, wiping my eyes and nodding weakly. "Just… a bad dream."
The nurse's expression softened, but there was still a hint of confusion. She took a few steps closer, checking the readings on the monitor and adjusting the blanket around me. "Your vitals spiked," she said, studying my face with kind eyes. "Are you sure there isn't anything else bothering you?"
Before I could respond, her eyes lit up with sudden remembrance. "Oh! I almost forgot to tell you. Someone came by earlier and dropped off these." She gestured to a vase filled with pristine white lilies and deep red roses, sitting on the table by the window.
My breath caught in my throat. The arrangement was almost identical to the first set I'd received, down to the small, discreet card with that cryptic initial. My stomach twisted as I looked at it, the feeling that I was being watched creeping over me like a shadow.
"Who sent them?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
The nurse shrugged, a faint smile on her lips. "There wasn't a name, just this card. And the person who came was wearing a mask. They said they are a friend." She reached for it, but I stopped her, shaking my head.
"Can you… throw them away, please?" The request came out more desperate than I intended.
The nurse blinked, taken aback. "Throw them away? But they're so pretty." Her eyes sparkled, oblivious to the unease gnawing at me.
I clenched my jaw, my heart racing as I tried to explain. "Please, just do it. I don't want them."
Her smile faltered, but she nodded, the confusion in her eyes deepening. "Of course, Miss Williams. I'll take care of it." She lifted the vase, her movements gentle as if handling a delicate treasure.
As she left the room, the door closing softly behind her, the knot in my chest loosened just a little. But the unease lingered, an invisible thread pulling at my nerves. Whoever sent those flowers knew exactly where I was and seemed determined to make their presence known.
Especially since it was the same person who sent me one at the office.
I exhaled shakily, glancing out the window at the city lights twinkling against the dark sky. The feeling of being spied on wouldn't leave me. And for the first time, I wondered if this second chance at life came with more dangers than I had ever anticipated.
I felt tired, every muscle in my body aching for rest, but my mind refused to let me drift. I needed a breather, a moment to escape this suffocating sense of paranoia. Just as I was about to close my eyes, the familiar ping of my laptop pierced the silence.
I glanced over, my heart stuttering as the screen lit up. An email notification flashed, marked from Unknown. My pulse quickened as I clicked on it, the subject line glaring at me in bold letters: HELLO KIARA.
My eyes skimmed the message, the color draining from my face.
"HELLO KIARA. MAYBE STOP THROWING MY FLOWERS AWAY."
A cold shiver ran down my spine, and my breath caught in my throat. I sat up straighter, the monitor's glow making the dark room feel colder, more menacing. My hands trembled as I re-read the email, my mind racing.
Who was this? How did they know?
I pushed the blanket off and swung my legs over the side of the bed, ignoring the dull throb from my ankle. The fear that crawled up my spine was electric, sparking old instincts that told me to run, to get out. But where could I go?
The email stared back at me, mocking, daring me to respond. My fingers hovered over the keys, indecision clawing at me. Responding could lead to answers—or more questions I wasn't ready to face.
A noise outside my room made me jump. It was just the nurse passing by, her shadow moving across the sliver of light under the door. I exhaled shakily, but the paranoia didn't leave. It pressed in on me, tight and suffocating.
I needed to find out who this was. If someone was watching me, I needed to know why. And how much they knew.
I leaned forward, typing a response with fingers that felt far too cold.
"Who are you?"
I hit send and waited.