November

NOVEMBER 8, 2022: A SERIAL KILLER REALITY

NOVEMBER 8, 2022: A SERIAL KILLER REALITY

1

Emma Hawkins held a knife in her hand, one she had just pierced through the heart of a middle-aged white male. "What have I done?" She put the knife down, the knife clattered to the floor, smearing the hardwood with ruby red blood.

The man was wearing a white shirt and boxers. He had kind eyes and short brown hair. Why would she kill this man? She reached into his pockets and found his wallet: "Matthew Johnson." It was a license for the state of Texas.

She looked out of the window. It was the downtown for some major city but she wasn't sure which one. Did she really just kill this man? It was like she had no control at all. It was like someone else took over. Yet, she still felt some kind of blood lust. Part of it felt right. Part of it felt good. No, she thought, no, none of this is real. It's all fake. Everything that has happened the past few days has to be fake, right? Matthew? His name is Matthew? Why?

She collapsed down to the cold hardwood floor and began to cry in a fetal position. All of it had become too overwhelming. All of it had become too much. "What is going on?" She muttered to herself. "What the hell is going on?"

The alarm clock said 3:00 A.M. Suddenly, she felt as though she could not stay awake and her eyes began to flutter...

2

Loud banging on the apartment door. "Emma? You in there?" It was the voice of some woman. She thought it sounded like Sofia.

Then, Emma realized that a Corgi was licking blood off her hands. She looked at the tag. It said Winnie. "Don't lick me there, Winnie. Missed you last time, buddy." Then, she remembered there was a dead man lying in her bed covered in blood. Then, she realized it was now 11 A.M. What the fuck was I going to do? She thought.

"Can you come back later?" Emma asked from behind the door.

"Why? What the hell is going on? Are you okay? You aren't using again, are you?" Using? She had never been one to partake in drug use, besides some cannabis here and there. What the hell was she doing in this reality?

"I'm not using." Really, Emma had no idea whether that was true or not.

"What's wrong, then?" The woman seemed sincerely concerned which Emma appreciated.

"Nothing."

"I'm coming in." The door handle began to wiggle. She must have had a key.

Emma dived to the door to try and hold it back, but it was too late. Sofia shut the door behind her and Winnie ran up to her. "What's on her lips and paws?" She questioned before even looking at Emma. Then she saw Emma and the blood all over her. "What did you do? What the fuck did you do?"

"That's the problem. I don't know." Sofia ran past her and went into the bedroom and saw the body of the man she had killed. "Who is this, Emma? Who the hell is this?"

"Matthew Johnson. I only know that from his license. Where in Texas am I?"

This made the woman look at Emma in an even more confused fashion, "What kind of silly question is that? I-I have to call the police, right?"

"Please don't. I have no idea what's going on. I don't even know who you are."

"Emma...it's me. Sofia." Suddenly, it was like the blinders came off. She was a woman of average height, brown eyes, brown hair, wearing black-frame glasses, rolled-up blue jeans, and a nose ring. Before this, it was as if Emma was seeing a faceless woman. Nothing about her looked familiar or right. Now she looked like the Sofia she thought she knew and loved.

"Oh my God. It is." Emma ran toward her and hugged her, but Sofia pushed her off. "What?"

"You killed someone!" Sofia exclaimed. Winnie began to bark and it was apt to bring attention to the apartment.

"Be quiet! I have no idea what is going on," Emma whispered in frustration.

"How is that possible?"

"Do you think it's possible to wake up in a different reality? A different world than your own?"

Sofia laughed, "Don't be ridiculous."

Emma looked directly into her eyes, "I am serious. For the past eight days, I have woken up in different realities." She figured why not try to explain to someone this time? What did she have to lose here? She already murdered someone, she thought. "I have no idea what is real. In my world, I'm married to a man named Matthew. Not this Matthew. A different one. At least I think. We also have a Corgi named Winnie. We have boring 9-to-5 jobs. I'm a failed author. Then I woke up the next day with my dreams all true. I was a successful writer. Then, things got even worse. I've been hunted down on an island. I fucking relived high school. Nothing is ever quite the same, but you. You have shown up nearly every day."

Sofia looked more confused, "Me? I certainly have never been hunted down on an island. Don't recall that."

"Well, you were there. You didn't look...quite like you. But it was you. Your name was Sofia. You, Winnie, and Matthew have been constants. Even if it was only in name. I don't understand what is going on? But I feel like I'm trapped. I...don't want this."

"Let's say I do believe you. You still killed someone. My girlfriend of two years killed someone." Two years? Weird. She thought they had been together since high school. Then, she snapped back, that wasn't her reality. That wasn't it. Matthew. She was with Matthew...but it felt so real to her. It all felt so real. Was it?

"I woke up in the middle of stabbing him. I had no control over this."

"Emma, what the fuck am I supposed to do?"

Emma shrugged, "That's the problem, I have no idea."

"I have to call the police. This guy has a family I'm sure."

"Could you kill me first?"

Sofia laughed in shock, "You're fucking insane."

"Maybe if you kill me, it'll bring me back to where I'm supposed to be."

"I'm not going to kill you. I love you. Or I love some version of you." Sofia began to cry.

"Don't cry. I could just make this easier." Emma felt as though she finally lost it, that she finally broke, that she was finally considering this. She walked over to the bedroom and in her nightstand drawer was a gun. It was already loaded with a clip. She pointed it to her temple. I guess she was a gun owner here. God Bless Texas.

"Please don't. Please we can get you help- "The bullet went through Emma's skull and, for a brief moment, she felt like nothing at all. She felt like everything had merely gone away. All the worries. All the pain. All the joy. All the memories made, the real ones, the fake ones. It didn't matter. It was all gone now. Like tears in rain. Faded out, torn away.

All she remembered was Sofia reaching down to her lifeless body, crying an endless stream of tears, ones of confusion and love and grief, and she remembered one last word: "Why?"

A fading to black, then to white, a failed suicide, a failed death, the cycle only returns. It can't really be broken.