03:10

♫

So, I was stuck on a time loop. Or so it seemed.

I was on my bed, waking up right after seeing Nova's dead body on our lawn. I ran towards my window, just to make sure, and sighed in relief after seeing that there was no sign of Nova's corpse on our lawn. No bassist, no trace of blood, no broken bones. Nothing.

For some reason, I really went back in time . . . with all its weirdness and confusion.

But why?

As I lay there, on my bed, I thought hard as the realization crept up onto me. Seeing the pattern, it seems like I loop back in time every time Nova dies. I knew it sounded insane, but what else was I supposed to believe when the evidence was mounting? Everything felt real. Too real. Way too vivid to be a dream. But I do know three things: that a Hollywood celebrity is about to get married, that I still have my mud mask on, and that Nova would come knocking on my window about ten minutes later. Tick tick, tick, tick tick, tick. But what do I do? What if the night ran the same way and then she dies, but then it won't loop me back?

A chill ran down my spine when I remembered the harsh pain that shot through my body when that truck hit us – I certainly wouldn't want to be there anymore.

"Oh, god," I grumbled, sinking my face into my palm.

I sighed. I felt my head hurt. I got off the bed, washed my mask off my face, sat on my bed, and opened my window. Oh, and I combed my hair and changed into a nice dress, ditching my nightgown. Nova would come by any minute, and there, I waited for her. I thought that she wouldn't fall this time because Nova had a strong grip on the first loop, and the only reason she fell and died the second time was because it took me too long to pull her inside my room, and her arm probably slipped or cramped, so that was my fault. I couldn't let that happen again.

A few minutes later I heard a few grunts, and I peeked from my window to see if it was her. It was.

"Nova!" I said.

"Oh – um, hi, Cora. Sorry you've found me in this state—"

"Come on," I said, sliding up my window. "Here! Grab my arm."

"What? Sure . . . okay," she said, grabbing my arm and allowing me to pull her. That took me way too much strength, but at least she was in my room now, safe.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, even though I thought I kind of knew – but, well, I still wasn't sure. I had no way of knowing if the first two loops were just dreams as wild and as vivid as they were, and being cautious is my best option in a night full of strangeness.

"Just trespassing into your . . . room, no biggie." Her eyes looked around my room, and I wished to God there wasn't anything suspicious she could set her eyes on. Like, for example, a cut-out of her face sitting around in my desk, or a diary with her name on it. I don't know.

"Bassists get a free pass, actually," I joked with an awkward laugh.

Nova laughed at that, making my heart do stupid little bunny hops. Then she put both her hands in her pants and, with a frown and an amused smirk, she asked, "were you expecting me or what? You don't seem too surprised."

Damn. I bit my lip. "Well—"

"Only idiots climb on houses, so I do suppose you should be."

I laughed, and I have never felt so light and weightless, like no burden in the world could ever be so heavy. "It's fine, I've always had a thing for idiots."

"Should've known earlier," Nova said with a smile, her head tilting slightly. "Anyway, uh . . . I'm here because I was wondering if you'd give me a ride? I heard you were a pretty decent chauffeur."

"Who lied to you?" A decent chauffeur doesn't get hit by trucks in the middle of the road. I turned my back on her and sat on my bed.

"Please?" she said, putting her palms together, then she went on to say the same long thing she'd already told me once. "My band mates are stranded at the venue, and they can't pick me up. I don't have a car. Too broke for a taxi. No buses anymore. My motorcycle is in the repair shop. My skateboard is at my other friend's house. You're the closest I can go to that has a car."

Anxiety was growing in my chest as I remembered the car accident we'd gotten into the first time I gave her a ride. It was still so clear in my head, as though I had experienced it fully. The breaking metals, the screeching tires, the shattering window glass, the blood from Nova's neck. Was I really the right girl to drive her there? I sighed.

"It's okay if you can't, you know, but it would be, like, a very big help if you did."

"Of course I can give you a ride. It's just that . . ." I thought that if the truck could hit us that would lead to Nova's death, then we're just simply not going to go to where it would be! I looked at her. "I might make a detour though. Is it okay if we'd be a little late?"

"It's fine with me!" she said, rubbing my shoulders excitedly. "Should we go now?"

Nova and I left the same way we did the first time. We climbed out from our window, she assisted me, and we were in the car a few minutes away from 12:00 AM. Then I drove, very carefully, looking everywhere for any sign of danger. Perhaps a fallen log, or a cat, or . . . I don't know – something. But I guess if we were not going to see the truck again, then maybe we'd be safe?

I held the steering wheel tightly.

"Mind if I—"

"Roll down the windows, it's okay," I said absent-mindedly.

"Oh. Thanks," she said. The scent of her cigarette brought me back to the time we first got hit and my heart raced.

"So . . . Cora Flair." Like the first time, she rested her back against the chair while resting her elbow on the window, the cigarette smoke on her face and her hair being winged out by the air coming from the outside.

"That's me."

"Did I interrupt anything with you and Kent earlier?"

"No. Nothing. I know he's spreading rumors about us dating, but that's completely untrue."

Damn, I couldn't even joke around anymore. My eyes kept darting around, scanning any signs of danger. I can't be present with Nova if anytime there could be a chance of her dying – I'd like to get her to the gig safe first. Then we'd talk all night if she wanted.

"I don't even like boys," I said all of a sudden.

"Whoa, what?"

"SHIT!" I came to an abrupt stop, slamming on the brakes when all of a sudden an old man decided to shuffle across the street. My hands shook on the wheel, my knuckles white as snow, a breath caught in my throat. "Shit."

"Wow, Miss Cheerleader – did you just curse?"

"You're worrying about that – I'd almost run into an old man!" I removed my seatbelt as I stared at the old man in the middle of the road, looking at me. "I'm gonna go check."

"Wait—!"

I didn't fully exit the car because as soon as I opened the door, a man wearing a black shirt and a helmet stopped me cold, a gun on his other hand. My heart sunk in the terrifying realization that I'd done it again and, despite all my caution, perhaps I still wasn't careful enough. A gun against my forehead pushed me back into my seat, and I couldn't even turn around to see what Nova's face was.

"Please don't hurt us," I managed to cry out in the softest voice I could muster. "Please."

"Don't move."

Nova and I were quiet as the man looked through my glove compartment, grabbing money, jewelries, my phone, everything. He also demanded our bags, which Nova obliged, and, as soon as he'd gotten everything he needed, he put down the gun. My heart was beating so loudly it seemed to be louder than the night. The tips of my fingers were trembling. I couldn't even move – unlike Nova.

In that split second when the man put down his gun, Nova threw herself across me to grab the gun away from his hand, and then it all happened in a single second, before I could even stop her.

A bullet was shot.

Blood splattered everywhere – on my face, on the car windows, on my favorite dress. Nova's dead body slumped down on my lap as I screamed and as I heard the man run away with all our money, but I didn't care about that. All I could think of was Nova's dead body on me, her head in a bloody mess after being shot directly on her forehead.

♫

My eyes shot open. My breathing was heavy and quick and I could still almost feel the thickness of the blood on my face, the coldness of the mouth of the gun against my skin, the weight of Nova's body on my lap. My heart sank and my tummy twisted in knots. I could still remember everything.

It was 11:30 again. Nova had died again. And I'm back on my bed.

"Oh, my god. Oh, my god. Oh, god," I said as I ran towards my bathroom, washing my face. Then I looked at myself in the mirror.

It was 11:30. After thirteen minutes Nova would arrive again, on my window. Why does she keep on dying? What else was I supposed to do? Should I not go with her at all? Should I tell her not to go into my bedroom at all? How the hell do you break time loops? I haven't watched Groundhog Day, and thirteen minutes before Nova's arrival was not enough time to think of something. If I could loop back just eight or five hours earlier, then I could tell Nova's band mates to not leave her so she wouldn't have to ask me for a ride. But no. I always looped back thirteen minutes before she appears. What the hell was I supposed to do?

That night, I looped three more times. The first time I told Nova I couldn't give her a ride because I was going to go to Kent's which was a lie, and then she said that that was a bummer, and she left and fell from the window and died. The second time I tried to do the same thing I did on to my third attempt which was to take a detour and, having learned my lesson, I decided to ignore the old man crossing the road, which led to me running over him, then to Nova getting out of the car despite me telling her not to, and the man with the gun shooting her in the head again.

The third time I slashed my tires so then I wouldn't have to give her a ride. I took her to our garage so she wouldn't have to fall out of my window. Guess what, though? She decided she wouldn't leave anymore, and we kind of had a small conversation.

I asked her why she didn't want to play that night, but she just shook her head. A secret, she said. I wouldn't understand, she said. But I wanted to know. When I insisted two more times, she stood up. It was 12:00 already. The gig was probably already starting, she said, and that they probably found a substitute. She said she'd go home.

"Okay," I said. Maybe she'd be safer that way. I was holding onto that maybe because whatever the hell was happening, there was no actual reason to be certain about something. I held my breath and looked at Nova, wishing that would be the last time I'd see her that night. "Take care on your way home."

Nova smiled at me. "You know, I was kidding," she said. "It's not like I don't want to play . . ."

I waited for what she would say next, but that was the last sentence she's ever said. She just shrugged, like a never mind, and turned and walked away. I thought she said, "see you tomorrow" but I must have been making that up. Being in time loops actually doesn't do the right stuff in your brain.

I really wished the loop would end that night, but the stars aren't exactly on my side. Not always.

Because I watched Nova walk through the middle of the road that night, until a car came running on our street and hit her. It all happened so quick, so brief, like she didn't deserve a few seconds more – like the world had deemed her so unimportant it didn't give her enough time and snapped her life shut so instantly it's like it had happened between flashes of lights – and I ran towards her, held her in my arms, felt the thickness of blood, feeling the texture of her curly hair against my skin, and with my shaking hands I held her cheek.

Her eyes were dead.

Nova took her one last breath.

And again, I was back on my bed, upright, jolted awake, panic and fear on my chest.

As I laid there, staring at the ceiling I'd seen over six times that night, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was trapped in some kind of twisted nightmare. And the worst part? I didn't know how to wake up.

♫