Groundhog Day (Sid Vicious One Shot)

Next Time

"I don't wanna' die...I don't wanna' die..."

I shivered at the prospect of my impending doom, my head buried in Kimmy's chest. I could hear her heart pounding deep within her, and I knew that she was just as terrified as I was.

"Everything is going to be alright," she tried to deflect my worries with her own little mantra. "Everything is going to be okay."

But she was wrong. I knew it and, come next morning, she would know it too. It was almost funny how, even though I had become accustomed to the signs and always knew when I was going to die, I was still terrified every time the day finally came.

It wasn't the blinding bright lights that scared me. After all, I'd seen them enough times, and the worst that they did was hurt my eyes for a moment. It wasn't the turbulent pulling sensation, like my entire body was being sucked through a tiny straw-even if that part wasn't exactly comfortable by any means. Nor was it the fact that I always woke up the next day knowing that two things were inevitable: I loved her, and I was going to die. I had gotten used to all of those awful things. I had come to expect them in some form or another, honestly.

No, the worst part of it all were the things that I would never know, everything that I would never see. It was like reading an enticing book only to find that the last page had been torn from the binding, only this wasn't a book, this was my life. More than that, it was my life with Kimmy. I never got to see how it ends. What does she do when I'm gone? Is she sad? How long is she forced to cope with the sadness? Does she move on? Does she have a husband, and kids? Does she ever even think of me five years after? Twenty years after?

The root of fear, I have come to find, is fear of the unknown. That is one of the main reasons people fear death so much. But I had seen death and I had seen my past, and I had lived through both hundreds of times over. I no longer feared them, because I had grown accustomed to them. My fear was no longer with death, but with the unknown aspects of the future-a future that I would never know, that I could never be a part of. I never saw Kimberly Abram passed this point. I never got to watch her grow old, be a mother, be a grandmother...and I doubted if I ever would.

I had tried to break the time loop that I appeared to be stuck in, if there even was such a thing as 'breaking' it. This time around, I had done my best to deter Kimmy. Unlike my previous attempts, I decided to try and join my mate's band, somehow managing to weasel my way into the bassist position. Still, Kimmy remained supportive and actively went to all of my shows, no matter how revolting I tried to be with all of my outlandish antics. That was another thing. I had been acting like such a wanker, even going so far as to hit her, and she still found reasons to like me. I had become addicted to drugs, I began drinking constantly, and I had even dated and murdered Nancy, and somehow Kimmy just kept coming right back to me. I couldn't understand it. Part of it was my own fault for letting her, for sometimes even begging her, but I simply couldn't help myself. I loved her too much.

I wasn't sure how many times I'd already promised this to myself, but I found myself promising it again anyway. I'll get it right next time.

I tried to be stealthy as I pulled away from Kimmy, not wanting to wake her. It was getting to be about that time again, and I really didn't want her to be awake to see it happen.

I knew I was going to see her again, but I still couldn't help but to feel like I was going to really miss her. Every time I was about to leave her, I couldn't help but wonder if that might be the one time that the loop fails me. Then I really would never see her again, and then what would I do? Every time always held a chance of being the last time, and I wasn't sure if that was a relief or a burden.

"I'll be seeing you," I murmured, not quite sure if I was lying to her or not. I brushed my lips along her cheek in the softest kiss I could muster.