Everytime she dies, the world rewrites him

Lena's POV

The first thing I noticed was the sound of people screaming.

Then came the headlights.

Bright.

Blinding.

Rushing straight toward me.

For a second, I couldn't move.

My feet felt glued to the road.

The horn blasted.

Someone shouted my name.

"Lena!"

And then,

Everything went black.

I sat up with a gasp.

My chest hurt.

My heart pounded so hard I thought it would burst.

Sunlight poured through my bedroom window.

I stared at the familiar white ceiling above me.

My room.

My bed.

My desk by the window.

The stack of textbooks I kept promising to organize.

Everything looked normal.

Too normal.

I pressed a hand against my chest and took a shaky breath.

It was just a nightmare.

That had to be it.

Because there was no way I had just died.

Right?

A knock sounded on my bedroom door.

"Lena! Get up! You'll be late for school!"

Mom's voice.

I froze.

Those were the exact words she had said yesterday morning.

Every single word.

A chill ran down my spine.

"Coming!" I called back.

My voice sounded strange.

Weak.

I grabbed my phone from the bedside table.

The screen lit up.

My stomach dropped.

June 18.

My birthday.

The same date.

The same day.

Again.

"Nooo"

I checked it twice.

Then three times.

The date didn't change.

My hands started shaking.

Maybe my phone was wrong.

Maybe I was confused.

Maybe...

"Lena!"

Mom knocked again.

I forced myself out of bed.

Everything felt unreal.

At breakfast, Dad read the newspaper.

Mom drank coffee.

The television played the morning news.

The same news report.

The same weather forecast.

The same joke from the news anchor.

Exactly like yesterday.

Every word.

Every detail.

I almost dropped my glass.

Nobody noticed.

School wasn't any better.

The moment I walked through the gates, I knew.

Everything was happening again.

The security guard greeted the same students.

The bell rang at the same second.

Even the birds sitting on the school fence looked familiar.

"Happy birthday!"

I turned.

Mira Lane ran toward me.

Her curly hair bounced as she smiled.

In her hands was a small gift box wrapped in blue paper.

The same gift box.

The same ribbon.

The same smile.

I felt sick.

"Mira..."

She tilted her head.

"What?"

I stared at her.

Yesterday she had given me this exact gift.

Or maybe tomorrow.

Or maybe...

I didn't know anymore.

"You okay?" she asked.

"Yeah."

The lie came out too quickly.

Mira narrowed her eyes.

"You look pale."

"I'm fine."

I wasn't.

Not even close.

By lunch, I knew I wasn't imagining things.

Everything was repeating.

The same conversations.

The same teachers.

The same announcements.

The same stupid joke from Mr. Hale during math class.

I knew every word before he said it.

It was impossible.

Yet it kept happening.

When school finally ended, I didn't wait around.

I grabbed my bag and rushed out.

Yesterday I had walked home through Oak Street.

That was where the accident happened.

Not today.

Today I would take a different route.

I cut through the shopping district instead.

The streets were crowded.

People moved around me.

Cars filled the road.

For the first time all day, I felt relief.

Maybe I had changed things.

Maybe I wasn't trapped after all.

Then I saw him.

A boy standing across the street.

Dark hair.

Black jacket.

Hands shoved into his pockets.

He was staring directly at me.

My stomach tightened.

It was him.

The boy from before the accident.

The one who had looked at me like he knew something terrible was about to happen.

For a moment neither of us moved.

Then he started walking toward me.

Something inside me screamed to leave.

But my feet refused to listen.

The boy stopped a few feet away.

His eyes studied my face.

Almost like he was checking if I was real.

"You survived."

I blinked.

"What?"

His jaw tightened.

For a second, he looked relieved.

Then the expression vanished.

"You weren't supposed to survive this route."

My heart skipped a beat.

"What are you talking about?"

The boy ignored the question.

Instead, he asked one of his own.

"Do you remember dying?"

Every sound around me disappeared.

The traffic.

The voices.

The footsteps.

Everything.

Gone.

I stared at him.

Unable to breathe.

Unable to think.

"Who are you?" I whispered.

The boy looked away briefly.

Like he was deciding whether to tell me the truth.

Finally, his gaze returned to mine.

"My name is Noah Reed."

The name meant nothing to me.

But the sadness in his eyes did.

Because it looked like the sadness of someone carrying a secret for too long.

"You don't know me," Noah continued quietly.

"But I know you."

Fear crawled up my spine.

"What do you mean?"

He took a slow breath.

Then he said the words that shattered whatever was left of my normal life.

"This isn't the first time you've died, Lena."

My blood turned cold.

I stepped backward.

"No."

"It happened before."

"No."

"It has happened many times."

I stared at him.

My pulse thundered in my ears.

This was insane.

Impossible.

Yet part of me already knew he was telling the truth.

Because somewhere deep inside my head...

I could almost remember it.

The headlights.

The horn.

The darkness.

Death.

Noah's expression darkened.

And then he said something even worse.

"Someone is trying to make sure you never remember."

Before I could ask what he meant, his eyes suddenly widened.

He looked past me.

At something behind me.

Fear flashed across his face.

Real fear.

"Lena."

His voice became urgent.

"Run."

My stomach dropped.

"Why?"

Noah took a step toward me.

Too late.

A cold voice spoke directly behind me.

"She remembers more than last time."

I froze.

Slowly, I turned around.

And saw someone standing there.

Someone who definitely wasn't there a second ago.

Someone smiling at me like we'd met before.

Someone I had never seen in my life.

Yet somehow.

I knew they were the reason I kept dying.

Lena's POV

I turned around.

The person behind me was young. Early twenties. Brown hair, gray coat,ordinary face. The kind you'd pass on the street and forget immediately.

But his eyes weren't ordinary.

Too sharp. Too aware.

"You're early," he said casually. "Took the shopping district instead of Oak Street. Smart choice."

My throat closed up.

"How do you know about Oak Street?"

He smiled. Not warm. Knowing.

"I know about the truck. The rain. The headlights. The screech of tires." He tilted his head. "You remember it. Even though you're trying not to."

Behind me, Noah moved closer.

"Don't listen to him," Noah said quietly.

The stranger ignored him. Kept his eyes locked on me.

"You've died seven times so far," he said. "Seven deaths. Each one different. Each one teaching us something."

Seven.

I shook my head. "That's impossible."

"You only remember the last one. That's by design. Your brain can't hold more than a few resets without breaking. You're at your limit actually. One or two more and you'll start forgetting who you are entirely."

Noah stepped forward. "Stop talking."

"Why? She deserves to know."

I pressed my palms against my temples. Images flickered behind my eyes, Rain, Headlights, a hospital ceiling, a bridge railing, a hand pushing me.

I gasped.

The images vanished.

But the feelings stayed. Fear. Confusion.

"See?" The stranger's voice was almost gentle. "It's already starting. The memories are bleeding through."

I looked up at him. My vision was blurry.

"Why?" The question came out broken. "Why is this happening to me?"

Something shifted in his expression. Almost pity.

"Because you're not supposed to be here, Lena."

"Not supposed to be where?"

The stranger opened his mouth to answer.

Then his eyes flicked to the side. His whole face changed. The smile disappeared. The knowing look vanished.

He looked scared.

"We've been found," he muttered.

Before I could ask what he meant, he turned and walked away. Fast. Disappearing into the crowd like he'd never been there.

I stared at the empty space.

"What just..."

"We have to leave." Noah grabbed my wrist. "Now."

His grip was firm. Panicked.

He pulled me forward. Through the crowd. Around a corner. Into a narrow alley between two buildings.

I yanked my wrist free.

"Stop!"

Noah spun around. His face was pale. His breathing fast.

"The man who watches," he said quickly. "He's the one controlling everything. Every death. Every reset. He's been observing you since the very first time."

I stared at him.

"The first time?"

Noah closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them, something raw was there. Pain. Guilt.

"Lena..." His voice cracked. "The first time you died... it was my fault."

I grabbed the alley wall to steady myself.

"What?"

Noah rubbed his face with both hands.

"We were together. When it happened. And I couldn't stop it."

"When? what happened?"

His eyes met mine.

"Your first death."

A cold emptiness spread through my chest.

"I don't..."

"I know you don't remember. That's why I've been following you. Across all these timelines. Why I keep showing up even though you never remember me the next time."

Something clicked in my mind. A flash. A boy's face. Tears.

"I'm sorry," he was saying. "I tried. I really tried."

The image faded.

I blinked.

Noah was staring at me.

"You saw something."

"I..." I swallowed. "I saw you. Crying."

Pain flickered across his face.

"That was our first timeline. Before the resets started. Before the observer got involved. When everything was normal."

"How long?"

"Two years. Maybe longer. Time doesn't work the same way in a loop."

Two years. Seven deaths. Waking up in a world that kept shifting.

"Why do you care?" I demanded. "Why do you keep showing up?"

Noah's expression softened.

"Because you're the only person I've ever really known."

Silence.

The alley was quiet. Distant traffic hummed.

I stared at him. A boy who knew me better than I knew myself. A boy who watched me die seven times. A boy who kept coming back.

"Why don't I remember?"

"Because remembering would break you."

He stepped closer. I didn't step back.

"There's something you need to know. About the observer. About why he's been watching."

I waited.

Noah reached out slowly. His fingers brushed my cheek.

"I'm going to tell you the truth. But you have to promise me something first."

"What?"

His thumb traced my jaw.

"Promise me that when I tell you, you won't try to remember. Just accept it."

I nodded.

Noah leaned in. His lips brushed against my ear.

"The observer isn't controlling the resets, Lena."

I shivered.

"He's studying them."

"Studying what?"

Noah pulled back. His eyes met mine. Dark. Desperate.

"Studying you. Because you're the reason the resets keep happening."

My blood ran cold.

"Me?"

Noah nodded slowly.

"You're the one who keeps dying, Lena. Not because someone is killing you."

He paused.

"But because your existence is shaking reality."

I stared at him.

The words didn't make sense.

"That's not possible," I said. "I'm just a student. I'm nobody."

Noah shook his head. "You're not nobody, Lena. You never were."

"Then what am I?"

He opened his mouth.

But before he could answer, footsteps echoed in the alley.

I turned.

A man stood at the entrance. Older. Fifties maybe. Gray hair. Glasses. A familiar face.

Mr. Hale.

My math teacher.

He was holding something. A photo.

"Lena Carter," he said calmly. "I think it's time you see this."

He walked closer and handed me the photo.

I looked down.

My stomach dropped.

It was a funeral.

A girl in a white casket. Flowers everywhere. People crying.

I recognized the girl.

It was me.

But that wasn't what made my hands shake.

It was the boy in the photo.

Standing alone by the casket. His face buried in his hands. His shoulders shaking.

Crying.

I knew that boy.

I had seen him today.

Noah.

"Look closer," Mr. Hale said.

I did.

Something was wrong.

The photo was taken in a cemetery I had never seen.

The people around the casket were strangers.

And Noah...

Noah was wearing clothes I'd never seen him in.

A black suit. A white shirt.

But his face was the same.

The same dark hair. The same sharp jaw.

The same sadness.

Only one thing was missing.

My name on the casket.

It wasn't there.

I looked up at Mr. Hale.

"Who died?" I asked.

Mr. Hale smiled. Not his usual classroom smile. Something colder.

"Look at the date."

I looked.

My hands went numb.

The photo was dated three years ago.

Three years before I turned eighteen.

Three years before I was supposed to exist.

"This is impossible," I whispered.

Noah stepped forward. His face was white.

"Lena..."

I turned to him.

"Who died?" I demanded.

Noah didn't answer.

Mr. Hale did.

"The original Lena Carter," he said calmly. "Died three years ago in a car accident. August 12th. 4:32 PM."

I shook my head.

"No. My birthday is June 18th. I just turned eighteen. That's..."

"You were created after she died," Mr. Hale cut in. "You're a copy. A duplicate."

I stared at him.

The photo slipped from my fingers.

"Created by who?"

Mr. Hale tilted his head.

"That's what we're trying to find out."

I looked at Noah.

"You knew?"

Noah's jaw tightened.

"Yes."

"All this time?"

"Yes."

"And the photo? The funeral?"

He nodded slowly.

"I was there."

My stomach turned.

"You went to my funeral?"

Noah's eyes met mine. Raw. Broken.

"I went to her funeral," he said quietly. "Before you existed."

I stepped back.

My back hit the alley wall.

I couldn't breathe.

I couldn't think.

The boy who said he loved me.

The boy who followed me across timelines.

He had watched me die three years ago.

But it wasn't me.

It was her.

The original.

The one I was made to replace.

Mr. Hale picked up the photo and handed it back to me.

"Keep it," he said. "You'll need to remember what you're replacing."

I looked at the photo again.

Noah crying.

The casket.

The strangers.

The missing name.

The date.

Three years ago.

I didn't exist then.

But someone made me.

Someone made me to look like her.

To sound like her.

To live her life.

And now someone was watching me die over and over.

Testing me.

"Why?" I whispered.

Mr. Hale shrugged.

"Because whoever created you wants to see if you can survive what she couldn't."

"Survive what?"

Mr. Hale turned to leave.

Then he looked back over his shoulder.

"Death," he said simply.

He walked away.

I stood in the alley.

The photo in my hands.

Noah watching me.

And a question burning in my mind.

If I wasn't Lena Carter...

Then who was I?

Lena's POV

I stood in the alley.

The photo in my hands.

Noah watching me.

My mind was empty. Completely empty.

I looked at the photo again. The casket. The strangers. Noah crying.

Three years ago.

I didn't exist then.

"What am I?" I asked.

Noah stepped closer.

"You're Lena."

"No." I shook my head. "I'm a copy. A duplicate. You said it yourself."

Noah's face tightened.

"That doesn't change who you are."

"It changes everything." My voice rose. "I don't have a mother. I don't have a past. I don't even have a real birthday."

Noah grabbed my shoulders.

"Listen to me. You're real. You feel things. You think things. You're standing here right now. That makes you real."

I pulled away.

"Then why am I dying? Why do I keep resetting?"

Noah opened his mouth.

But before he could answer, another voice cut through the alley.

"Because you're defective."

I spun around.

A girl stood at the entrance.

Young. Maybe my age. Dark hair. Gray eyes.

My eyes.

She looked exactly like me.

My heart stopped.

"Who are you?" I whispered.

The girl smiled. A cold smile.

"I'm the original."

I stared at her.

The photo slipped from my fingers.

"That's not possible. Mr. Hale said you died three years ago."

She laughed. The sound was sharp. Hollow.

"Mr. Hale lies. He's part of the experiment."

"Experiment?"

She stepped closer. Her eyes studied me like I was a bug under glass.

"You really don't know anything, do you?" She looked at Noah. "You didn't tell her?"

Noah's face was pale.

"She wasn't ready."

The girl laughed again.

"Not ready? She's been dying for seven cycles. How much more ready does she need to be?"

I looked between them.

"What are you talking about?"

The girl tilted her head. The same way I did when I was confused.

It was unsettling.

"I'm Lena Carter," she said. "The real one. I never died. I was taken."

"Taken by who?"

"The people who made you."

My blood ran cold.

"They made me?"

"Yes." She nodded. "They made you to replace me. To live my life. To see if a copy could survive what I couldn't."

"Survive what?"

The girl looked at Noah.

"Tell her."

Noah's jaw tightened.

"Lena..." He paused. "The original Lena was part of an experiment. A program. They wanted to see if they could create a human who could survive repeated death."

I stared at him.

"Repeated death?"

"The resets," he said quietly. "The observer,the deaths...It's all part of the experiment. You're their latest attempt."

The latest attempt.

I looked at the girl.

"There were others?"

She nodded.

"Four before me. Three after me. You're the eighth."

Eight.

I couldn't breathe.

"Where are they now?"

The girl's face went blank.

"Dead. All of them."

I stepped back.

My back hit the alley wall.

"Why?"

"Because the experiment failed. Every time. They couldn't survive the resets. They broke."

I looked at Noah.

"And me?"

Noah's eyes met mine.

"You're different."

"How?"

He stepped closer.

"You remember."

I shook my head.

"I barely remember anything."

"You remember more than the others." His voice was urgent. "The others forgot everything after the first reset. They didn't question anything. They just lived and died and lived again. But you... you're questioning. You're fighting."

The girl scoffed.

"Fighting doesn't matter. She'll break just like the rest of us."

Noah ignored her. Kept his eyes on me.

"You're the first one to remember the deaths. The first one to find me. The first one to meet the observer and survive."

I looked at the photo on the ground.

"But I'm still dying."

"Because they want you to," Noah said. "Every death teaches them something. Every reset gives them data. They're watching you learn to remember. To survive. To fight."

The girl stepped forward.

"And when you finally break, they'll make a ninth."

I looked at her.

"You know all this. Why aren't you helping me?"

She laughed again. But this time it sounded different. Almost sad.

"Because I can't."

"What do you mean?"

She pulled up her sleeve.

My breath caught.

Her arm was covered in numbers. Tattoos. Rows and rows of numbers.

"Every reset," she said quietly. "Every death. Every timeline. I have them all. I remember them all. Every single one."

I stared at the numbers.

"How many?"

"Three hundred and forty-seven."

The number hit me like a punch.

"Three hundred and-"

"And you're only at seven." She pulled her sleeve down. "You have no idea what's coming."

Noah stepped between us.

"Enough."

The girl ignored him. Kept her eyes locked on me.

"They're going to test you harder now. The deaths will get worse. You'll start losing pieces of yourself. Memories. Feelings. People you love."

She looked at Noah.

"He'll start forgetting you too. It's already happening, isn't it?"

I looked at Noah.

"Is she telling the truth?"

Noah's face went tight.

"I remember enough."

"Not enough." The girl shook her head. "You forgot her name twice already. You forgot her face three times. You forgot-"

"Stop." Noah's voice was sharp.

The girl smiled.

"See? It has already started."

I felt cold.

Cold and empty.

"Why?" I whispered. "Why are you telling me this?"

The girl's smile faded.

"Because I want you to stop them."

"Stop who?"

"The people who made us."

I shook my head.

"I don't even know who they are."

The girl reached into her pocket. Pulled out a card. Handed it to me.

I looked at it.

Dr. Sloane.

A phone number.

An address.

"Find her," the girl said. "She's the only one who can end this."

"Why don't you go?"

"Because I can't." She looked at her arm. At the numbers. "I'm too broken. Too far gone. I can't even hold a thought for more than a few minutes. The resets took everything."

I looked at the card.

"What makes you think I can stop them?"

The girl's eyes met mine.

"Because you're the only copy that ever looked at Noah and didn't trust him completely."

I glanced at Noah.

He looked away.

Something cold settled in my stomach.

"What do you mean?"

The girl smiled again. But this time it wasn't cold.

It was sad.

"Every copy trusted Noah immediately. Believed everything he said. Followed him blindly. You're the only one who ever questioned him."

Noah's face went pale.

"Lena..."

I stepped back.

"What aren't you telling me?"

Noah reached for me.

I pulled away.

"Lena, please."

"Tell me."

Noah's hand dropped.

Silence.

Then the girl spoke.

"He works for them."

The words hit me like a slap.

"What?"

Noah's face was white.

"I used to," he said quickly. "In the beginning. But I-"

"Used to?" The girl cut in. "You still do. You give them reports. Every timeline. Every death. You tell them what she remembers."

I looked at Noah.

"Is that true?"

He opened his mouth. Closed it.

My heart started pounding.

"Answer me."

Noah's eyes met mine.

"Yes."

The word was barely a whisper.

Something inside me broke.

"You've been reporting on me?"

"At first. But then-"

"You watched me die. Seven times. And you told them everything?"

Noah stepped forward.

"Lena, I stopped. After the third death, I stopped giving them details. I started feeding them false information. I was trying to protect you."

"Protect me?" My voice cracked. "You were supposed to be helping me."

"I was. I am."

The girl laughed softly.

"Don't believe him. He's good at lying. It's his job."

Noah spun around.

"Shut up."

"Or what? You'll report me too?"

I looked between them.

My head was spinning.

Everything I knew was wrong.

The boy who remembered me. The boy who loved me.

He was one of them.

The girl stepped closer to me.

"I'm giving you a way out," she said quietly. "Dr. Sloane. She can stop the resets. She can stop the observers. She can stop all of it."

"Then why haven't you gone?"

The girl's smile faltered.

"Because I tried once. And they killed me for it."

I stared at her.

"Killed you?"

She nodded.

"Number thirty-seven. I ran to her. I begged her to help. And they reset the timeline and killed me in the worst way possible. A car accident. That's why I'm not in your timeline anymore."

I looked at her.

"You're not?"

She shook her head.

"I'm dead in your timeline. Every timeline after thirty-seven, I'm dead. I only exist because you're in this alley right now. Because I slipped through the cracks."

"Through the cracks?"

"The resets aren't perfect. Sometimes things bleed through. Memories. Emotions. People." She looked at Noah. "That's how he found you. He slipped through too."

Noah's face tightened.

"She's right."

I looked at him.

"You slipped through?"

"I started remembering the resets. All of them. Just like her." He nodded at the girl. "And when I did, they tried to erase me."

I stared at him.

"They tried to erase you?"

"They failed." His voice was hard. "But they're trying again. That's why the observer is here. He's watching me as much as he's watching you."

The girl nodded.

"They're cleaning up the mess. That's what this is."

"Cleaning up what?"

The girl's eyes met mine.

"Cleaning up their failed experiment. You. Me. Him. Everyone who remembers too much."

She looked at her arm.

"We're all broken copies. And they want to start fresh."

I felt something shift inside me.

A cold resolve.

"I'm not going to let them."

The girl smiled. A real smile.

"Good."

She turned to leave.

"Wait," I called out. "How do I find her? Dr. Sloane?"

The girl paused.

"She'll find you. Just keep the card close."

She walked away.

I stood in the alley.

Noah watching me.

The card in my hand.

And a voice in my head telling me something I didn't want to admit.

I couldn't trust anyone.

Not even him.

I walked home in silence.

Noah followed a few steps behind.

I didn't look at him.

I couldn't.

When I reached my house, I stopped.

Something was wrong.

The front door was open.

I never left the front door open.

My heart started pounding.

"Wait here," I told Noah.

I pushed the door open slowly.

The house was dark.

But everything looked normal.

The living room. The kitchen. The hallway.

I walked to my room.

My heart was beating so hard I could hear it in my ears.

I opened my bedroom door.

Everything looked normal.

My bed. My desk. My window.

But something was on my bed.

Something that had not been there before.

A small notebook.

Red cover. Worn edges.

I picked it up.

My hands were shaking.

I opened the first page.

My blood ran cold.

It was my handwriting.

I knew it anywhere.

But I had never seen this notebook before.

I read the first line.

"If you're reading this, you just met the original Lena."

My heart stopped.

I flipped the page.

"Don't trust Noah. He works for them. But don't hate him either. He's trapped just like you."

I flipped again.

"You're going to die again soon. Probably today. Maybe tomorrow. But you already know that."

I flipped faster.

"Dr. Sloane is your only hope. But be careful. She's not who she seems."

I flipped to the last page.

My hands were shaking so hard I could barely hold the notebook.

The last entry was dated.

June 20th.

Tomorrow.

I stared at the date.

It was tomorrow.

How could I write something tomorrow when today was June 18th?

I read the entry.

"You're going to wake up tomorrow and remember everything. All seven deaths. All seven resets. Everything."

"Don't panic. It's supposed to happen."

"The experiment is almost over."

"They're going to try to erase you soon."

"But you have a choice now."

"You can let them erase you."

"Or you can break the loop."

"Choose wisely."

"And don't trust anyone."

"Not even yourself."

The notebook slipped from my fingers.

I stared at it on the floor.

My handwriting.

But written tomorrow.

How?

I heard footsteps behind me.

Noah.

He was standing in my doorway.

"What's that?" he asked.

I didn't answer.

I couldn't.

Because I had just realized something terrible.

If I wrote this tomorrow...

That meant I survived tonight.

But the entry said I was going to remember everything.

All seven deaths.

All seven resets.

Everything.

And it said the experiment was almost over.

Which meant...

They were going to try something soon.

Something big.

I picked up the notebook.

I looked at Noah.

"Who was in my room?"

Noah's face went tight.

"I don't know."

"Liar."

He flinched.

"Lena..."

"Tell me the truth."

Noah looked at the notebook.

Then back at me.

His face was pale.

"Yesterday," he said slowly. "You came to me. You were crying. You said you remembered everything. You said you knew what was coming."

I stared at him.

"That's impossible. Yesterday I was at school. I was living my normal life."

Noah shook his head.

"No. Yesterday you found me. You told me to keep you safe. You told me that today would be the worst day."

I felt cold.

"What else did I tell you?"

Noah's eyes met mine.

"You told me that you wrote yourself a message. You said it would help you remember."

I looked at the notebook.

"I wrote this?"

Noah nodded.

"You wrote it yesterday. Then you went home. And today... today you don't remember any of it."

I sat down on my bed.

My legs couldn't hold me anymore.

I looked at the notebook.

I looked at the date.

June 20th.

Tomorrow.

How could I have written something yesterday that was dated tomorrow?

Unless...

Unless time wasn't moving forward the way I thought it was.

Unless the resets were happening faster than I realized.

Unless today wasn't June 18th at all.

I grabbed my phone.

The screen lit up.

June 20th.

My heart stopped.

"No."

I refreshed the screen.

June 20th.

I looked at Noah.

He was watching me.

His face was sad.

"It's been three days," he said quietly. "You've been resetting every few hours now. You just don't remember."

I stared at him.

"Three days?"

He nodded.

"June 18th. June 19th. June 20th. You've died three times since we met in the alley."

I shook my head.

"I only remember one death. The birthday."

"That's because your brain is protecting you. It can't handle all of them at once."

I looked at the notebook.

The entry.

"You're going to wake up tomorrow and remember everything."

"It's supposed to happen."

"The experiment is almost over."

I looked at Noah.

"If I wake up tomorrow and remember everything..."

Noah nodded slowly.

"Then you'll be the first one who survived the reset. The first one who held onto all the memories."

"And then?"

Noah's face went blank.

"Then they'll try to erase you."

I looked at the notebook again.

"Don't trust anyone."

"Not even yourself."

I looked up at Noah.

"Why should I trust you?"

He opened his mouth.

Then closed it.

Because he didn't have an answer.

Because he couldn't tell me the truth.

Because the truth was worse than anything I could imagine.

And suddenly I knew.

I knew what he was going to say before he said it.

Noah's eyes met mine.

"Because," he said slowly, "you're going to need me."

"For what?"

He stepped closer.

His hand reached out.

His fingers touched my cheek.

I didn't pull away.

"To survive tomorrow," he whispered.

His eyes were dark.

Full of something I couldn't name.

Fear. Guilt. Love.

All mixed together.

"What happens tomorrow?" I asked.

Noah leaned closer.

His forehead touched mine.

"Tomorrow," he said quietly, "you die for the last time."

My breath caught.

"Last time?"

He nodded.

"Either you remember everything and survive."

He paused.

His lips brushed against my forehead.

"Or you forget everything and I lose you forever."