I Love You, I'm Sorry

The Museum

*April 17th 2003*

The insistent jangle of my phone ripped me from a restless sleep. My hand fumbled for the receiver, my voice thick with sleep. "Hello?"

"Danny," Summer's voice, choked with sobs, hit me like a physical blow. "Val and Brian... they're dead."

A cold dread washed over me. I knew. I had seen it. The image of... I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to banish the horrific memory. Should I tell her I was there? Witness to their final moments? The words caught in my throat.

"I know," I finally managed, the words a leaden weight on my tongue. A sigh escaped me, heavy with grief and exhaustion. "I was there when it happened."

A stunned silence hung in the air before Summer's voice, sharp with panic, cut through. "You were... why didn't you call me last night? Are you okay?"

"Yeah... I'm fine," I lied, the words hollow even to my own ears. "Just in shock. Lucy and I... we tried to save them, but... it was too late." My voice cracked, the dam of emotion threatening to break. The raw horror of the night replayed in my mind, a gruesome loop I couldn't escape.

"Hold on... I hear someone downstairs. I'll call you back," Summer said abruptly, her voice laced with a new urgency. The line went dead.

"Summer, wait!" I cried, but the dial tone buzzed mockingly in my ear.

I sank onto my bed, the phone slipping from my grasp. A wave of nausea rolled over me. I stumbled downstairs, the scent of breakfast usually a comforting welcome, now churning my stomach. I couldn't eat. The thought of food was repulsive.

"Mom, I'm going to go to Quinn's," I mumbled, my voice flat, devoid of any emotion.

"Okay, sweetie," my mom replied, her voice tinged with concern. She reached out to touch my arm, but I flinched away, the contact feeling too much, too intrusive.

I practically fled the house, the need to escape the suffocating silence, the lingering scent of breakfast, overwhelming. I needed to talk to someone, anyone. And I knew Lucy would be at Quinn's. They were always together. Maybe, just maybe, they could make sense of the senseless tragedy that had shattered my world.

The familiar squeak of Quinn's garage door was a small comfort. I pushed it open, the sight of him hunched over his computer a strangely normal scene in the midst of the chaos that had become my life.

"Oh... hey, Danny," he said, his voice laced with surprise. "Do you need something?"
"Um... kind of," I mumbled, fidgeting nervously. "Is Lucy here?"

"No... she went to Summer's house," Quinn replied with a sigh, turning back to his computer screen. "What do you need?" he asked, his voice laced with a gentle curiosity.

I hesitated, the words sticking in my throat. How could I explain this? "Lucy told me... Emmy is supposed to die tonight. At the museum." My voice was barely a whisper, the fear clawing at my chest. "We need to help her."

Quinn swivelled around in his chair, his expression serious. "Danny, I get it. Believe me, I do. But changing the past... it could be really dangerous. We don't know the consequences."

"But Lucy already changed the past," I argued, my voice rising with desperation. "When she saved me... I was supposed to die" The memory of the attack, the searing pain, flashed through my mind. "The future is already changed because of that, so why can't we just... fix it some more?"

Quinn's face paled, his eyes widening in disbelief. "What do you mean you were supposed to die? When? How?"

I swallowed hard, the words tumbling out in a rush. "Two days ago. I was attacked... but Lucy saved me." I looked down at my hands, unable to meet his gaze. "She didn't tell you?"