November 1st

Chapter Five

It's midnight currently, but I've forced myself to stay awake so I won't be repeating. My eyes sting as a plea for me to rest, but I force myself to ignore the signs of tiredness that my body's giving me. Whenever a yawn escapes my lips, I trudge over to the sink and splash freezing cold water on my face. Whenever my head lowers, I shake my head and sit up unnaturally straight- just so I don't fall asleep.

Long story short, I'd rather die than repeat.

I glance at my phone again, the notifications for my unread texts still there. I hadn't replied, or even read, them yet. I made up my mind to reply to them a day late. Specifically, Sidonia, since she would be worried sick.

I push my chair back and stand up- I just yawned again. Once again making my way over to the sink, I splash my face with the icy water. "Not repeating," I mutter to myself between each handful to splashed water. "Not. Repeating."

Shivering slightly at how much I've forced my body temperature at one time, I lean over to dry my face with my now-damp towel. I try to count how many times I've yawned, when I realize that I've lost count. Sighing, I step out of the bathroom and into my room again.

Unsurprisingly, when my gaze actually drifts over to my bed, my mind immediately flashes back to the calendar. I then realize that I haven't crossed off another box for November 1st. Suppressing any screams that I want to scream, I force myself only my knees and rummage around the eighteen calendars for the correct one.

And when I find it, I feel such pure hatred for the world around me and what it's come to that I'm so, so, so tempted to rip it. Then and there.

Shaking my head to rid my mind of the satisfying image of a pile of paper marked with red, I force myself to flip to the most current page. I then lean over to grab my red pen to "officially" mark the ending of November 1st. "#6567," I say bitterly, as if I have poison in my mouth and I'm spitting it out. "Wonderful."

After a few minutes of not being able to find my red pen, I frown. What was going on? My mind then flashes to the night when I finally let myself go- literally. My face then twists into realization when I see myself throwing the same red pen that I would be using now against the wall, breaking it brutally. Sighing, I shake my head to get myself back into reality, and then begin to search for another pen.

Finally settling on a dark purple pen, I turn back to my calendar. Crossing the box with a "X" of hatred, I manage to write in, "Three More Days," before more tears fall from my face. Whether it was a signal that I'm too tired to be staying up or because the thought of repeating is tearing me apart, I do not know.

Wiping the tears away with a brush of my arm, I walk over to my backpack again. Pulling out my book, which I've yet to finish, I flip to the page I'm on to distract myself from my volcano of emotions bubbling within me, waiting to explode at the least wanted moment.

After a few minutes, I find myself at the scene where the main character's forced to stay still for three days, all while chaos is occurring around her. The main character's biggest flaw is trying to help everyone, and she's forced to watch complete strangers become chaotic so she can save everyone she loves and needs in her life. Although she feels so guilty, she knows that she made the right choice.

And when I read more, two words stand out to me.

"Three days."

As if I don't have control over what I'm doing, I find myself using my purple pen to circle the "three days". And as I'm reading, I'm circling every single "three days" that's written in the book. Only a few minutes pass before I've stopped reading and started circling.

I only stop circling completely when I see that the ink is being smeared before my vision becomes blurry with welling tears. I let a sob echo throughout my room before wiping my tears away. I was not going to have another emotional breakdown.

It'd be a sign that I'm repeating.

When more tears stream down my face, I take it as a sign that I won't be able to circle- or read- anymore. Before I know it, I sob again and slam the book closed. My pen still in my hand, I turn the book so the cover is facing me.

And then, I do something that I wouldn't have done if the threat of repeating wasn't in my head.

I scribble over the book.

Over the title.

Over the author's name.

Over the actual image of the main character.

Over everything.

Knowing that the book in my hands is beyond repair, I walk over to the window and open it, letting the chilly air give me goosebumps and send chills down my spine. I then flip to the first page and write down "NEVER REPEAT". I rip that page out and hold my arm out the window, letting the wind bite at my skin.

Then I let go of the page, feeling no remorse as the slightly crinkling of paper drifts away into nothingness in my ears.

I grab the pen and do the same exact things to the next few pages, feeling better and better with every page that's being littered somewhere in the world.

Usually, I'd try not to litter or create a mess.

But did I care at the moment?

No. No, I did not.

Nor did I care when I fold the thin cover so it resembled a paper airplane. If only the law of Time could do this, I think to myself while holding my arm out the window again. I then close my eyes and release the grip on my "paper" airplane.

And when I open my eyes again, the cover's gone from my fingers, floating in the wind and into the darkness beyond my house.

Just... gone.

And that's how I wanted it to be.

I close the window once an extremely cold gust of wind blew directly in my face, sending moderate shivers down my spine. My teeth chattering ever so slightly, I make sure to lock the windows closed before a yawn escapes my lips. I narrow my eyes, anger flowing through my veins.

Of course, I march to the sink yet again, splashing my already freezing skin with more water. In fact, my face is so cold that the cold water was warmer. Sighing, I suddenly feel any energy powering my legs disappearing within seconds, rendering me limp. I can barely feel my legs crumple beneath me, and I only know that I'm now slouching against the bathroom cabinets when my head hits the ledge rather painfully, making me groan.

A hand to the back of my head, I feel my stinging eyes weighting down so heavily that I cannot fight back. My vision turns from clear, to blurry, to black. My heartbeat slows down to be on the same level as my breathing. My arms and legs finally relax, my body receiving the rest they had wanted.

...And I'm asleep.