I was on the balcony, elbow on the table, fingers against my forehead. Carmen – sat on the other chair next to me – yawned, covering her mouth with the back of her hand. She turned to look at me, a frown on her face, as if she’d lost something and was trying to trace back her steps.

  “I swear it was nighttime,” she said.

  It had been when we were here last, when the System initialising message came on. I’d just finished explaining to her about the woman in the guestroom and the decapitated head.

  “Yo, Carmen,” a voice called out from the balcony next to ours. Darren was leaning against the barrier on his side. He was naked, save for a pair of boxers, a slight paunch hanging out, at odds with his gangly frame.

  Carmen rolled her eyes, stood and shuffled inside. She was in the same clothes as before, having the same response. As she walked in, she pointed at her forehead with that look telling me to be careful.

  “What’s that on your head?” Darren asked.

  With the light outside, he could clearly see the gem, but he didn’t know what it was. Not yet. I was still processing what was happening but somehow, time had gone back six hours. And yet it hadn’t. It was daytime.

  “Just a bit of a bruise,” I lied, covering my forehead. “I’ll talk to you in a bit, mate. Havin’ a moment with the missus.”

  The nasty prick gave me a gap-toothed smile. “I bet.”

  I’d barely stepped inside when the doorbell rang. I stopped in my tracks. It clearly wasn’t Darren this time. Someone else hunting the bounty? Carmen and I kept ourselves to ourselves in the main. We were only superficially polite to others in the building. A ‘Hi, how’s you?’ here. A ‘Gosh, this weather’ there. We were excellent examples of the typical Londoner. It was too soon for anyone, other than Darren to know I lived here.

  Carmen was sat cross-legged on the sofa, with the TV on and looked over at me with concern in her eyes. As I walked through the dining room and past the sofa to the door, I saw what she was watching. The same newscast from earlier, with the long notification scrolling on the right-hand side, with the bounty offer on my head. The time in the corner of the screen showed 9:14 am. Ten minutes had passed since the System notification, but I understood the concern that Carmen showed. This was the first she was learning of it. It seemed she didn’t recall what had happened.

  I got to the front door and looked through the peephole. An elderly black man with a wispy white beard was stood there. I didn’t recognise him.

  “Can I help you?” I said, without opening the door.

  “Hi. I live a couple of doors down. I was just checking that everything is alright?”

  “Everything’s fine. Why d’you ask?”

  “We heard a commotion and some loud bangs. You sure everything’s okay?”

  A commotion and loud bangs. He was referring to Darren and Michelle. This was another one of those times where my brain was working overtime, trying to fill in the blanks and coming up empty. Everything that had happened earlier had happened. The fight with Darren. The gunshots. Darren sitting on me and plunging that machete into my side over and over. I could remember the sensation, feel the squelch of the blade cutting through my flesh.

  And then it hit me.

  I’d died.

  I’d died and come back.

  “Everything’s fine,” I said to the man. “Thanks for checking in.”

  “And the young girl you got there? Your girlfriend?”

  “What about her?”

  “Is she good?”

  “Yes, she’s good.”

  “Mind if I speak to her? Just to make sure.”

  I looked through the peephole again. He didn’t seem to mean any harm. Didn’t seem to have any weapons on him. He was lean but old and I didn’t see him being a threat. It was quite sweet really. He didn’t know jack about us but he knew Carmen lived here, heard noises that were out of the ordinary and came to check on her. Make sure she was alright. He’s the kind of neighbour you’d want looking out for your daughter.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  I opened the door with my other hand covering the gem, and invited him in to check, nodding at the lounge. He popped his head in and looked around the door at Carmen.

  “You okay, miss?” he asked.

  “I’m…” she looked at me with a questioning look, “…fine.” The hesitation didn’t help. Nor did looking at me.

  “Satisfied?” I asked the old man, trying to get him out the door. He looked at me with a casual nod and shuffled back outside.

  “By the way, which flat did you say you were?”

  “Two doors down. The corner unit. Name’s Delroy.”

  I nodded at him. No way I was giving my name out to anyone. I’d need to think of a new identity. I shut the door and went and sat by Carmen.

  “What was that about?” Carmen asked.

  “He thought I was beating you. I told him only with your permission.”

  She gave me a gentle punch to the shoulder. I concentrated on the news.

  “…being offered for any information regarding the whereabouts of River Clarke. If you have any information, you are encouraged to call the police hotline…”

  The doorbell rang again.

  It had been less than a minute since I sat down. With a huff, I got back up and opened the front door without checking. “What now?” I said, expecting to see Delroy. It was Darren instead, machete hidden behind his back. He stepped inside before I could shut the door on him.

  “Easier than I thought it’d be,” the prick said. I had no weapon this time. No way to keep my distance from him. But the hallway was tight. I acted without thinking, throwing a punch right at his temple. I caught him off-guard but he didn’t drop like I’d hoped, instead throwing his arms out to hold me. We got into a scrap, grabbing hold of each other, pushing each other against the walls. The cold metal of his blade smacked against the back of my head. We remained in a scuffle until I pushed him past the door and into the lounge. We went over the sofa together, Carmen screaming as she ran towards the dining table.

  We both went over like before, my back slamming into the coffee table, my feet smacking against the TV. I saw the machete come down at me again but with no bat, all I could do was put my hands out and grab hold of his wrist. Again, his strength was surprising but like last time, after moments of straining against each other, I gained the upper hand, and like last time, the sound of breaking glass rang out.

  The tension I had been straining against disappeared as Darren lashed out with the blade behind him and I heard Carmen howl. I knew what was going to happen next as I flipped over and looked back, seeing the same scene. Carmen with a bloodied arm, trapped against the dining table, Darren marching towards her. Michelle would be here any moment. I needed to act. Fast. I jumped up, and before Darren got the chance to grab Carmen by the throat like last time, I tackled him from the side, pinning him against the wall and grabbing his wrist, twisting it to make him drop the weapon. I used him as cover, keeping his arm and that side of his body between me and the lounge door.

  The boom sounded out moments later. The sledgehammer on corrugated steel. I didn’t feel like I’d been hit by it this time, but I heard Michelle.

  “Let him go, or you’ll end up like your girlfriend.”

  I looked up at the pizza-loving woman and then to my left, I noticed Carmen. On the floor. Unmoving. She was on her front with the back of her t-shirt stained with splodges of red. Blood.

  I let Darren go and dropped to my knees beside Carmen, turning her over and seeing the mess that was her torso, where the pellets had ripped into her soft skin. Her eyes were open. Glazed. Staring at nothing. I cradled her head in my hands, stroked her black hair back. Small water drops sprinkled on her face. Not water drops. Tears. My tears. I didn’t cry out loud. Didn’t scream. I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. The tears came unbidden, otherwise I wouldn’t have even let them see that.

  “Thanks mum,” Darren said. He grabbed me by the arm, dragged me away from Carmen. I let him.

  “You gonna behave?” Darren asked me. I nodded as I looked at him and then at his equally ugly mother, who had the shotgun trained on me.

  “Even if you give me up, how are you going to explain this to the police?” I asked.

  “We’ll think of something,” he replied.

  I looked at Carmen. She seemed to be looking at me. Almost accusing me.

  “System,” Darren said and then looked to be reading something in front of him. The invisible blue screen.

  I had a feeling I could fix this. The gem could fix this. It fixed me. I didn’t know exactly how it worked, but last time, everyone in this room reset. Delroy, two doors down didn’t. And it happened after I died. So I just needed to die again. In this room. And then I needed to figure out what to do next. We all got reset, but only I had the memories. But all three of them behaved similarly to before. Was that fate? Were they destined to repeat the same actions?

  Looking at Carmen, I wondered if she would reset if she was dead? I knew that I would. At least, I was fairly confident. What if she remained dead on the floor when I reset? Or disappeared altogether?

  Darren seemed to press something on the screen.

  It was a risk I needed to take. I was in a bad situation. Deal with the known over the unknown. I knew what these two would do. I didn’t know what the Pantheon wanted. My problem was that I didn’t want to give the gem up until I had some idea of what would happen to me. Like I said, I’m no martyr. And I wasn’t about to let Carmen be martyred for me either.

  As Darren concentrated on the invisible screen, I took my chance. I kicked out at his knee, forcing him to the floor, then reached for the hand holding the machete. I grabbed the wrist and twisted it forcing him to drop the blade, before I picked it up and struck it with as hard a swing as I could. I embedded the blade halfway through his neck and heard his pathetic splutter as he tried to understand what had just happened.

  Then I felt a sledgehammer to my chest, a thunderous boom in its wake and looked down. Another boom and I fell backwards against the dining table. I looked up at Michelle, wisps of smoke floating above the muzzle of the shotgun she held in her hands. She was a strong woman, I could tell. No tears in her eyes. No regrets. Just a small hint of satisfaction. She seemed like the kind of woman who always knew she might have to bury her son first.

  I smiled at her as I felt the life leaving me.

  I looked down at the lifeless body of Carmen at my feet, and as my eyes closed, I hoped I was right.