Chapter 4: Mastery and Escape

Another test day, same questions. But this time, something felt different—a quiet resolve. Maybe I’d finally gotten tired of running.

Nearly a year had been enough for me to completely master all the material on the test.

This time, I didn’t rely on memorizing answers. I finished the entire test on my own ability, pen gliding across the page. There was a strange satisfaction in not having to look anything up.

"Alex Carter, 100, first in the class."

The words echoed, classmates turning to stare, whispers rippling down the row. Mr. Thompson’s eyes narrowed, searching my face for a hint of mischief.

When he read my score, I could hear the suspicion in his voice.

There was a beat of silence, everyone waiting for me to break character. But I didn’t care anymore.

Because at that moment, I realized—I wasn’t pulled back.

Time felt different. I glanced at the clock, half expecting that familiar lurch, the world dissolving. But it never came. I was still here.

I shot up from my seat, staring in disbelief at Mr. Thompson. My classmates thought I was shocked by my own score. But only I knew the real reason.

My hands shook. A couple of kids giggled; someone muttered, "Chill, dude, it’s just a test." They had no idea.

I had finally escaped the loop.

For now.

My heart thundered. I wondered if I’d ever get used to this feeling—being free, even for a day.

I sat down, listening to the teacher review the test, a long-lost sense of relief settling in. Everything became clear and real.

The hum of the fluorescent lights, the scratch of pencils, the stale smell of old textbooks—it all felt alive again.

For the first time, I really felt how wonderful it was to move forward in time.

Even the smallest moments—a cough, a joke whispered two seats over, the soft breeze from the open window—seemed precious. I drank them in like a man crawling out of the desert.