Chapter 3 The Fall

The last thing Elena remembered was the cold.

The wind whooshed loudly in her ears as she tumbled down. Below her, the city lights looked like sparkly gold and red ribbons, all faintly like when you rub your eyes too hard.

She didn't even have time to yell "Oh no!" before... THUD! She landed on the hard ground. Her nightgown flapped around her, like a kite that couldn't fly anymore. Her mouth felt yucky, like she had licked salt. And far, far above, she heard his voice, tiny and it echoed, calling from the very top of the building.

"Goodbye, little songbird."

Liam.

Her husband.

Her killer.

Elena flew awake, gasping. Her hands flew to her throat, clawing at skin that wasn't broken. No blood. No shattered bones. Everything was quiet... except for the sound of the old air conditioner (like a cat snoring in the corner!). And if you sniffed really hard the room smelled like someone just washed them with soap that smells like purple flowers.

"What...?" She sat up, trembling.

Sunlight shone through pink curtains she hadn't seen in years. A faded Taylor Swift poster hung crookedly on the wall. Her old stuffed rabbit, Mr. Whiskers, sat slumped on the desk chair.

"This is my college dorm. My second year", She said.

She stumbled to the mirror. A younger face stared back with round cheeks, freckles she'd later cover with makeup, eyes wide and unguarded. The silver locket her mother gave her dangled from her neck, warm against her skin.

Clara's locket.

Her fingers mistakenly opened the locket. Inside it was a tiny photo of her mother smiling up at her, frozen at 32. The same age Elena had been when she died.

"No." She pressed a hand to her mouth. "No, no, no."

This wasn't possible. She had felt the concrete. Seen the blood. Heard Liam's laugh. But here she was, in a body that hadn't yet learned to to be careful of being deceived or manipulated by charming or attractive appearances.

A phone buzzed on the nightstand, her old iPhone with a cracked screen. A text lit up the display:

Unknown Number:

Don't trust the blue tie.

Elena's breath hitched. Blue tie. Liam had worn a blue tie the day they met. Navy silk with silver stripes. She had teased him about it at their wedding.

"You will never escape me now," he whispered, loosening that same tie as they danced.

Her stomach turned as she remembered. She barely made it to the trash can before vomiting.

"Elena?" A voice called her through the door. "You okay in there?"

Jess, her roommate. Sweet, loud Jess who had moved to Paris after graduation and sent Elena postcards every Christmas. Until the postcards stopped.

"Y-yeah!" Elena rasped, wiping her mouth. "Just... food poisoning!"

"Ew! I told you not to eat that gas station sushi!"

Elena sat on the floor and hugged her knees but her hands wouldn't stop shaking. This wasn't a dream. The dorm rug scratched her legs in that familiar, itchy way. Jess's ukulele lay in the corner, collecting dust like always. And the date on her phone...

July 12th. Seven years ago.

The day before her 22nd birthday.

The day before she had meet Liam.

A laugh bubbled up, raw and wild. "I am alive," she whispered. Then louder: "I am alive!"

She rushed to her desk, nearly tripping over a pair of glittery heels she had once loved. Her old planner lay open, a page filled with hearts and doodles of wedding dresses. Pathetic, she thought, tearing out the page.

But as she reached for a pen, her vision blurred.

Flash.

A memory, no, a future flashed like a film reel:

Liam, handing her father a glass of whiskey. Richard Hart laughing, clutching his chest. EMTs wheeling his body out under a white sheet.

"Dad..."

The pen snapped in her hand. Ink bled across the desk like black tears.

"I wouldn't let it happen, Not again" She said.

Elena grabbed her phone, ignoring three missed calls from her father (he had always called at 8:15 a.m., like clockwork). She typed furiously:

To Unknown Number:

Who are you?

The reply came instantly:

Unknown Number:

Break the cycle.

Then, nothing.