Chapter 14
The resentment and jealousy Amanda and I held for each other slowly started to fall away. The days became easier, and when we saw each other, we couldn't help but smile. We had too many memories, and we liked each other's company way too much to let the situation divide us.
We tried to keep things interesting. We went out to the movies (even though I'd seen everything that was playing a few dozen times). We went to the beach. We spent a night in a stolen pickup truck, staring at the stars, but today, we were in the mood for laziness.
Neither one of us knew what was coming when our thirty days were up, but I think we both could feel ourselves starting to tire out. She arrived at my doorstep early. She hadn't changed from her pajamas, and her hair was held in an unwashed, loose bun, but she was beautiful. She hadn't cooked, but she'd stopped and gotten a platter of cinnamon rolls, the perfect breakfast when it was literally impossible to gain weight.
She wore an old shirt, spattered with bleach stains, and her plaid pajamas had a hole in the crotch. She wasn't wearing a bra, but it wasn't an attempt to look sexy, it was an attempt at comfort. We ate with smiles across the table, and I kissed the cream cheese frosting from her lip.
"It's kinda nice," she admitted, "Taking things slow. Nowhere to be, nothing to do. Don't have to get ready or anything."
"And no guilt," I added, "You can be as lazy as you want, it's not like we're giving up a weekend."
She took another bite, and licked the frosting off her fingers. I watched her eyes roll back, savoring the cinnamon center.
"We should have gotten something savory too," she said. She picked at the dough, and started running her finger around the plate, picking up the crumbs.
"Nah," I said. It was my turn to take a creamy bite, "You did good. This is incredible."
She allowed a soft smile, "Thanks."
I finished my plate and grabbed it from the table. I took hers as I passed and started running it under the kitchen sink.
Habit I guess.
"What about the rest of the day?" I asked, "Any movie you wanna watch? Game you wanna play?"
She shook her head. Her steps were slow and soft, until I felt her arms around my torso. I scraped the gunk from the dishes, and held my arms out so she could sneak in.
"I'm fine just cuddling on the couch," she said, "Resting with you, watching something, anything, who cares."
"Sounds good to me," I laughed. I tossed the first plate to a spread towel and started work on the second, "Go get started, I'll meet you there."
She laughed, gave a quick kiss. I heard a pair of footsteps drifting away and I worked the last piece of stuck frosting free.
I started walking towards her, and let myself chuckle, "We just gotta make sure we don't fall asleep."
I couldn't place the voice I heard. It sounded angry, almost vengeful, and the word's weren't Amanda's, "Are you gonna take me seriously now?"
I turned the corner and saw Amanda's wide eyes. I saw terror that came from a primal place. She was gasping for breath and blood trickled down her breast. Then I saw where the voice had come from:
Hannah.
She rose from behind the couch. She grunted and pulled with all her might, unsheathing a chef's knife from Amanda's back. I saw her eyes widen with fear and pain, and the blood poured out in steady spurts.
"You just gonna walk me out?" Hannah bellowed. She started towards me, and held the knife out like a dueling pistol, "Tell me I'm not worth your time?"
She took her first swing at me. I heard the whoosh in the still kitchen air, and felt the hair on my skin bristle. I tried to hold out a diplomatic hand, but she swung again. I ducked back, but not quick enough. A narrow trail ran down my palm, and a cold sensation spiraled up my arm. I struggled for a kitchen chair, and held it out between us. It wasn't death I was worried about, it was the pain.
"Hannah," I tried. I held the chair our, a small buffer between us.
"Look who finally came home," she cackled. I barely recognized the girl I'd met at the mansion. Her hair was unkempt, her eyes wild. She wasn't dressed to impress her classmates, she looked like she woke up and sprinted for the kitchen knife, letting herself turn feral as she made her way to my house.
She tried to stick the blade between the slats, out of breath but screaming with every stroke, "You! Ruined! My! Fucking! Life!"
I twisted the chair, trying to pull her arm, but she retreated too fast.
"And you're not even trying to fix it?"
Hannah started to charge. She held the knife out in front of her like a lance. I swung with the chair and dodged her like a matador. Her momentum took her stumbling into the kitchen and the blade caught in the cabinet. She wrenched and twisted, trying to break free, and I had a moment to glance at Amanda. Her eyes were still wide, but her breathing had stopped.
Good. She's not in pain.
Hannah had pulled the knife free and turned back to me. She slapped her hair away with an angry hand and took a twisted step across the linoleum.
I set the chair aside, knowing I couldn't hold her off forever, and let her swing at me. I didn't go for the knife, I went for her wrist. She jabbed into my shoulder, scraping bone and lacerating the muscle. I felt myself lose all strength, but my other hand had caught her wrist. I slammed it down to the floor, probably cracking her fingers. I placed my knee on her stomach and crawled for the knife.
When I looked down I saw fear, the same fear Amanda had while she gasped for breath, but I didn't pressure her. All I wanted was for the pain to end.
"I don't want to hurt you," I said, "I promise. I never wanted to hurt you. I'm trying my best."
Her eyes were still wide, but I could feel myself starting to lose consciousness.
End the pain.
I twisted the knife in my good hand, and held the blade up towards myself. I jabbed as hard as I could, finding my carotid artery, and the world went black.
The next morning, I was sprinting. I ran to Amanda's house, still in my pajamas. My heart was thumping in my throat as my shaky hands danced the macarena on her doorbell.
"Amanda!" I shrieked, "Amanda! Are you ok?"
I never saw the door open, but I felt her throw herself into my arms.
"It hurt," she said, a hint of tears in her voice, "So fucking bad."
I held her until the trembling stopped and her breathing returned to normal. "I know," I said softly, "She got me too."
I felt her eyes look past me, scanning the street to make sure we were alone. "Charlie," she whispered, "She knows where you live."
I nodded softly, but had nothing to add.
"What are we gonna do?" her trembling voice asked.
I let myself think for a moment, basking in the warm morning air, "I think we need a secret meeting place. Somewhere only you and I know. Like the treehouse."
She wiped the tears from her eyes. She looked over the street again and let her voice fall to a tinny whisper, "I don't just mean that," she said, "I mean Hannah's not entirely wrong. We did ruin her life. We might be ruining everyone's life."
The change took me by surprise. I let myself survey her, trying to read the conflicted emotions.
"Amanda," I finally said, "Do you trust me?"
She nodded.
"And you believe what I said about Sadie right?"
Another nod.
"I don't know if she wants us to be together, but I know the answer isn't just to keep fucking everything that moves. It's not what I want. It's not what you want, and I know it's not what Sadie wants."
She considered for a moment, taking the time to lean against me, her head resting on my shoulder.
"I think we need a secret place," I repeated, "Because Hannah's probably not done, and we're running out of days. The others will come for us too."
I felt her head shake, trying to imagine all those friendly faces she'd seen at the kitchen swinging a knife the way Hannah had.
"Not the treehouse then," she said, "They know about our first day together. They'd eventually find it."
"Not the mansion either," I sighed, "Or any other empty house. I know a few dozen, and I've used them all, but they know about them too."
I took one last glance out her porch, then led her inside. "I guess," I sighed, "It has to be somewhere random then. A car dealership, a hotel, something they'd never think about."
We fell on her unkempt couch, and sat, silent for a moment as we tried to map out Custer City in our minds.
"You wake up later," I said, still out of breath from the jog over, "Maybe it should be somewhere closer to you, just so we-"
We never got our lazy day and I never got to finish the thought. I heard Amanda's voice before I heard the pounding at the door. "Oh God," she muttered, "Hannah knows where I live too."
I glanced through the window, and saw she didn't have a sudden change of heart. She held the same knife and her eyes were just as wild. I brought my voice to a hush and locked eyes with Amanda, "Tree house. Tomorrow," I said, "We'll figure it all out then."
I opened the door slowly, hoping diplomacy would work. It didn't.
Chapter 15
Ginger hadn't appreciated just how far Chrissy had to drive until she had to make the trip herself. She'd woken up groggy and sickly, ready to spend another day face down in bed, waiting to fall asleep again, but when she glanced at her phone she saw Chrissy had invited her over.
She wiped her hangover sickness from her lips, glanced over her shoulder, and stole her roommate's truck. She drove one handed, while the other held up her gps. All told it, nearly an hour and a half had passed before she, still in her pajamas, knocked on Chrissy's door.
The brunette met her with a warm smile. She'd made more of an effort on herself, pulling her hair back, clearly having showered, and as Ginger glanced around her home, it was clear she'd been keeping it clean before the timeloop ever started.
Ginger stepped in with her nervous arms crossed. Chrissy stepped forward, almost determinedly oblivious, and brought the girl into a hug. When she pulled back, a smile was stretched across her wide cheeks, and her eyes seemed to study Ginger's bedraggled form.
