Chapter 4: Death Loop

4.

A piercing wail exploded in my ears.

I snapped my eyes open, my throat hoarse.

Darkness before my eyes, cold sweat gluing my pajamas to my back.

Buzz.

With a vibration, a patch of light spread by my hand, illuminating half the room.

It was my bedroom.

I sat up so fast my head spun, sweat soaking through my Georgia Bulldogs tee.

I turned my head and saw a breaking news alert pop up on my lit phone screen:

"A murder occurred in Maple Heights Apartments, Savannah. Two victims were stabbed more than ten times and died at the scene."

My breathing suddenly quickened.

What's going on?

My chest ached faintly.

The clock showed a familiar time: 1:50 a.m.

I opened the news. The crime scene in the photo was covered in blood.

That was my blood.

The news accurately predicted my death.

But I had come back to life, once again returning to ten minutes before the crime.

Was I just dreaming, or was I still dreaming now?

But there was no time to think. A click came from the living room.

A key was inserted into the lock.

Wait!

My heart skipped a beat. I knew Derek was back.

Just as my left foot touched the floor, I heard a startled shout outside the bedroom:

"Damn, who are you!"

The next moment, painful screams echoed through the room.

"Ah! Ah!"

It was the killer!

This time, he killed Derek!

I immediately covered my mouth, desperately stopping myself from crying out. Just as I was about to lock the bedroom door, my hand froze a moment before shutting it.

If I made a sound, the killer would immediately know someone was in the bedroom.

He would come without hesitation to kill me as a witness!

And the wooden bedroom door, even if locked, would probably be broken down.

Better to hide. He had just committed murder and wouldn't stay long. If he didn't search carefully and left in a hurry, I might survive.

Trembling, I quietly got out of bed and quickly crawled under it, holding my breath and shaking all over.

There was no more sound outside.

Footsteps approached, getting closer and closer.

Tap, tap, tap, tap.

The bedroom door was pushed open.

Sweat beaded on my forehead, my heart about to burst from my chest.

Click.

The light switch was pressed, and the bedroom was suddenly bathed in light.

Whoosh.

I knew—the closet door was being opened.

He was searching everywhere someone could hide.

My trembling hands covered my mouth, big tears silently falling.

The gap between the bed and the floor was less than four inches. Through the slit, I saw two feet walking toward me.

Sneakers stained red with blood stopped in front of me.

The toes were only a hand's width from my nose.

Thud.

A sudden bang in my ear made me shudder. A pale face abruptly pressed against my eyes.

It was Derek's face.

His mouth was wide open and motionless, his head tilted on the floor, blood streaming from his forehead onto his face.

He was already dead.

"Ah!"

I accidentally cried out.

In an instant, my ankle was grabbed tightly by a hand and I was dragged backward.

"Ahhhhhh!"

A cold voice sounded behind my head:

"Found you."

The floorboards groaned, and a sickly metallic scent filled my nose. This time, there would be no last-minute rescue, no waking up in my own bed. Only darkness and the echo of my own scream.