Chapter 2: The Loop Begins Again

Thick drops of blood suddenly dripped from the whiteboard, and the next question emerged in a spreading pool:

[How did Mason Holt die?]

A. Jumped from the roof

B. Hanged

C. Buried alive

D. You don’t know.

The letters formed slowly, blood pooling and spreading until the words were clear. The smell was stronger now, almost choking. I gagged, covering my mouth.

Mason Holt. The name echoed in my head, distant and hollow. I tried to picture his face—round glasses, a quiet smile, always lost in a book.

I vaguely remembered the name. He’d been a classmate—a total bookworm, always top of the class—but ten years ago, he’d fallen from the upstairs landing and died. The memory was fuzzy, blurred by time and grief. I remembered the rumors, the way people whispered about what really happened. My gut twisted. What a tragedy.

I felt a sharp pang of guilt. I’d never really known him, never tried to reach out. Now, it was too late. Sorry, Mason.

But why was the question about Mason? Why now? It didn’t make sense. I glanced at Autumn, hoping for a clue.

I copied Autumn’s earlier move, bit my finger, and used blood to fill in A. The pain was sharp, the taste metallic. My hand shook as I marked the answer, blood soaking into the paper.

Autumn suddenly grabbed my hand. Her grip was urgent, almost frantic. Her eyes flashed with fear. I tensed, feeling her panic seep into me.

“Quick, pick D. Don’t look at the other options, and don’t pick them.” Her voice was tight, urgent. I nodded, trusting her without question.

I turned and met her eyes—wide, pleading, desperate. I felt a strange comfort in her gaze, even now.

They were still beautiful.

The same eyes I’d fallen for all those years ago. It was like nothing had changed. For a second, I forgot where I was.

Just like ten years ago. I remembered the way she’d laughed at my jokes, the way she’d smiled when I handed her a note in class. My heart ached, heavy with nostalgia.

As if she’d never aged. Her skin was flawless, untouched by time or pain. Was that a blessing or a curse?

I nodded numbly and shakily marked D on my answer sheet. My hand trembled, but I pressed down hard, making sure the answer was clear.

After all, last time I survived by listening to her…

Trust was all I had left. I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for the next horror. God, please.

“Ah—!”

A shriek tore through the room, raw and full of terror. My blood froze.

The floor beneath the students who’d picked A suddenly dropped away, and they plummeted into a bottomless pit. The tiles cracked, darkness swallowing them whole. Their screams faded into the void. Holy shit.

I could clearly hear a boy’s bitter voice rising from below. “You’re the one who pushed me.” The accusation hung in the air, sharp as a knife. I shuddered, guilt crawling up my spine.

The students who picked B suddenly had dark, purplish marks bloom across their necks. The bruises spread fast, choking the life from them. Their faces went blue, eyes bulging.

Invisible ropes yanked their bodies up to the spinning ceiling fan. Their toes scraped across my test booklet, leaving trails of blood. I ducked, shielding my face as blood splattered everywhere.

The worst were those who chose C. Their desks flipped, and a pile of foul-smelling mud poured out, burying them alive. The stench was unbearable, thick and suffocating. I watched as hands clawed at the mud, desperate for air. God, make it stop.

I watched as a pale hand clawed out of the muck, then fell still. The fingers twitched once, then went limp. The mud swallowed everything, leaving only silence.

Only five people were left in the room. The survivors huddled together, eyes wide with terror. I recognized a few faces—kids I’d known since grade school. How did it come to this?

The proctor stood at the front, his mouth stretching into a monstrous grin, teeth gleaming, stained with blood. The grin was too wide, too hungry.

“Actually, there’s no right answer to this one. Whatever you pick, the opposite happens.”

His words sent a chill down my spine. I realized, too late, that this was all a game—and the rules kept changing. Dammit. What now?

Jumped, hanged, buried alive… The words echoed in my mind, each one a death sentence. I swallowed hard, wishing I could go back and change my answer.

I noticed she’d said “a lot more,” not “two” or “three.” The vagueness made cold sweat prickle down my back.

But I saw her smile freeze, black blood seeping from her lips. It dripped down her chin, staining her shirt. Her eyes widened in shock, pain flickering across her face.

She was clearly dead—not alive—and definitely not the girl I’d longed for all these years. Reality crashed down on me. I’d been clinging to a ghost.

But what happened next left me stunned. It was so sudden, so violent, I barely had time to react.

After all, who wouldn’t want to sit with their high school crush?

Blood splattered across my face. It was hot and sticky, the metallic taste burning my tongue. I wiped it away, gagging.

The person behind me had also picked D. I turned just in time to see the proctor’s shadow looming over him.

The proctor’s shadow appeared behind him and whispered, “Don’t know how you died? Let me help you find out.”

The words slid into my ear like ice water. My whole body went cold. No, please—

Then, his eyes were gouged out. Blood poured down his cheeks, pooling on the desk. He didn’t even scream—just slumped forward, gone.

The intercom crackled: “All answers are wrong. Punishment begins.” The voice was warped, robotic. The lights flickered, shadows stretching across the room.

The classroom floor split open, and countless pale hands reached up, grabbing at the feet of everyone left. The hands were cold, clammy, their grip unbreakable. I kicked and thrashed, but they only tightened. Oh God, no.

They clung to our legs, icy and relentless, nails digging into my skin, drawing blood. I screamed, but the darkness swallowed the sound.

Because I knew—if you let go, you’d be ripped apart. No second chances. No escape.

The truth was as clear as the blood on my hands. I held on, refusing to let go.

God, poor kid.

Suddenly, a hand latched onto my foot and yanked me down. The grip was iron-strong. My fingers slipped, nails scraping wood. I screamed, panic flooding me.

Another hand covered my eyes. Everything went black.

The darkness was absolute, suffocating. I felt myself falling, weightless and cold. My heart hammered, breath caught in my throat.

I copied Autumn’s move, bit my finger, and marked A in blood.