He was escorted to the psychiatrist’s office and seated in front of the doctor’s desk. “How are you feeling today, Mr. Gibbs?” he was asked. John just shook his head, unable to find the will to even speak. “You have a visitor,” the doctor said. Someone entered the room.
“It’s always something, isn’t John?” A stern voice addressed him. A chill ran up his spine. John slowly raised his head, his eyes confirming his worst fear. There was his father, with that condescending look John remembered so well. “You broke into an elderly man’s house and assaulted him. For Christ’s sake, kid, when are you gonna grow a brain?”
John laughed meekly.
The old man became very angry. “Is something funny, John?”
“My father died years ago,” he said. “He died and I was happier for it.”
“Cut the crap, John, you’re not—”
“Fuck you, whoever you are. Even if you really are my dad.”
“You’ve gone completely backwards, kid. Enough is enough. This is your problem, you deal with it. I’m done fixing your mistakes.” The old man turned and walked away.
“I watched them lower you into the ground!” John yelled. “Best day of my life!”
December 9th, 2014
Time had passed, more time than John cared to count. He spent his days staring at the white walls of his room and watching the seasons pass by through his window. He spent his nights talking to Kara in his head, imagining that she was always there with him like she promised she would be.
We’ll always be together.
Maybe he really had lost his mind. Everything had seemed so perfect, like a miracle. Maybe his perfect life had just been a wishful fantasy. Everyone else seemed to think so.
It was time to let go, time to free himself from his pain. He was ready.
He had managed to steal a utility knife from the janitor’s storage room early in the day, carrying it in his waistband until they locked him back in his room that night. He sat on the floor, staring at the dull blade. He thought it over, knowing deep down that this was the only option left for him.
He gripped the blade tight in his hand. He knew the way it had to be done; up the arm, not across the wrist. He sunk the blade deep into the skin, trembling with pain and terror. Tears welled up in his eyes. Just do it. One quick motion. Blood was already flowing up out of his arm, running around his wrist and pattering softly on the white cell floor. This was the point of no return.
He looked away and ran the blade up his arm. He screamed in agony, turning back to see blood coursing out from his wrist almost to the back of his elbow. He trembled and heaved. Soon his heart was pounding madly, desperately trying to pump blood that wasn’t there. He started to feel a terrible chill. So this is death.
He could hear the nurses hurriedly trying to unlock the door from the other side. John’s eyes were twitching uncontrollably, his vision blurring. He felt very lightheaded and toppled over, his head crashing into the bloody cell floor. Then everything went dark.
June 16th, 2012
John awoke from a terrible nightmare. He dreamt he had been locked away in an insane asylum, and the only way out was… No. No, it was only a dream. He was in his apartment again, in his bed. But if it was just a dream, then why did his misery feel so real? He looked at his arm. No cuts, no scars. He took a moment to catch his breath, to awaken and let the memory fade. It didn’t.
Something else clawed at the back of his mind. A life he once lived. People he loved. Was it real?
Kara. I have to find Kara.
He marched up Sawyer Street, constantly fearful that they were looking for him, that at any moment they might find him and drag him away again. He reached her house, the one she lived in before they had been together. John frantically knocked on her door, praying that she’d know who he was. He needed her to remember.
Suddenly Kara opened the door, and there was a silent pause as they stared at each other. A smile formed on John’s face, a tear rolled down his cheek. It had been so long. So long since he’d seen her other than in his dreams. So long since he’d heard her voice other than in his head.
“Yes?” she said. “Can I… Help you?”
His smile faded but the tears kept coming. “Kara,” he whispered.
“Yes?”
“Help me, please. Tell me that you remember.”
There was a long pause. She stared at him fearfully, saying nothing.
John reached the intersection at the end of Sawyer Street. A bus was coming. He stood on the sidewalk, looking calm and inconspicuous. He could hear the drone of its diesel engine as it sped closer. He waited until the last possible moment. When it drove into the intersection, he stepped off the sidewalk and into its path. The driver didn’t have time to apply the brakes. The bumper shattered John’s knees only an instant before his head cracked the windshield.
June 16th, 2012
John awoke with a pounding headache and tears in his eyes. He left his bed, and marched straight to the window. He lifted it open, and before he could make sense of his memories, he stepped onto the sill and jumped. Within moments, he broke against the sidewalk.
June 16th, 2012
John awoke. A dream of sweet death lingered in his mind. He turned and looked at his bedroom window, still firmly shut. He inhaled a deep breath and sighed. Then he got up and went to the kitchen, grabbed a large knife from the cutlery drawer and drove it into his stomach repeatedly. He hesitated at first, leaving shallow wounds that stung terribly. Memories of Kara flooded into his thoughts against his will, tormenting him. He wished he could forget. Why couldn’t he forget?
He drove the knife in hard, pressing the blade through as far as he could, wailing in agony all the while. His hands trembled at his sides as he looked down at himself, the handle of the blade protruding from the bloody wound. He hoped to punish himself enough that he’d be forgiven for whatever he did to deserve this. He hoped to be granted peace.
John breathed heavily, overwhelmed by pain and wishing death would come soon. Blood had run down his legs and pooled around his feet over the tiled kitchen floor, more blood than he thought possible. His heart had gone from a fast pounding to a spastic twitching. His legs felt weak, his body cold. He fell to his knees, and while he was kneeling in his own blood, he prayed.
Please God. Let me die. Just let it end… Then everything went dark.
October 19th, 2019
“It’s finally ready.”
Heinrich stood back for a better view; it didn’t look like much, if truth were told. Certainly not like a device that had the power to reset time.
“I wonder if it actually works,” Werner mused. “But, I suppose we’ll never know. It’s somewhat depressing.”
“It works, Emil. You know it does.”
“But why not… Try it?”
“And trap humanity in an infinite loop? Really?”
Werner sighed. “I don’t know why we ever built this cursed thing in the first place. If it works, then the world will essentially end. If it doesn’t, then it will have failed its purpose and the world will still end. What’s the point in creating something if you can never test it to see if it works?”
“Ignorance is bliss, Emil. Wouldn’t you want to relive all of the wonderful events of the past?”
“Not if I knew that there would be no future.”