Chapter 7: Back to the Beginning—Again

They claimed they would rather go to jail than let me go unpunished.

Savannah's father shouted, "Lock me up if you want! I won't stop until that bastard pays!" Their martyr act only fueled the mob.

Their self-destructive tactics made people even more convinced of my guilt.

The more they suffered, the more people believed them. Sympathy poured in from strangers. Donations, too. I watched it all, powerless.

The trolls doxxed me and my family. It was open season.

They posted my home address, my parents' phone numbers, even old family photos. The threats got uglier. "You're dead, Doc," one message read. "We know where you sleep."

My parents believed in me. They chose to move and wait for the storm to pass, hoping I could clear my name.

They packed up their lives, left behind the house I'd grown up in. "It'll blow over, Nate," my dad said. "Just keep your head down."

But during the move, radical trolls live-streamed their route, saying the parents of a monster shouldn’t be allowed to escape.

They followed my parents, broadcasting their every move. "Don't let them run!" the chat screamed. My folks were terrified, but kept driving.

To avoid them, my parents got into a car accident and both died.

A semi ran a red light. The car flipped, metal screeching. The police called me at dawn. I dropped the phone, knees buckling. The world went gray. My mind emptied out. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think.

I was the center of attention, and with Savannah’s family chasing me everywhere, I couldn’t even go home the day my parents died.

Reporters camped outside my door. Trolls left dead animals on my porch. I couldn't even mourn in peace. I slept in the clinic, curtains drawn, a gun under my pillow.

On the seventh night, I lit candles for my parents far away in Montana. Her family even came to set off firecrackers and shouted that I deserved it.

I knelt in the dark, candles flickering. The sound of firecrackers shattered the silence. Savannah's father laughed, his voice carrying through the night. "You got what you deserved, Doc!" Even in grief, they wouldn't leave me alone.

They pointed at my nose and warned me again, saying I had three days to come up with three hundred thousand, or they would cut me up and leave me for the wolves.

He leaned in close, breath hot on my face. "Three days, Doc. Or you're dead."

In despair, I didn’t want to live anymore.

I sat alone, staring at the wall. The grief was a weight on my chest. I couldn't breathe, couldn't think. I wanted it all to end.

I registered an account, verified it, and announced I would start a live broadcast to tell the truth. Anyone who wanted to curse me could come and curse.

I posted online, "Live tonight—I'll answer everything." The notifications rolled in, a tidal wave of hate. I didn't care anymore.

The viewer count shot past a million.

The view count climbed higher and higher. A million people, hungry for blood. I felt nothing.

But they didn’t know.

No one suspected what I was really planning. They thought it was just another confession, another circus act. They were wrong.

This was—

A murder live stream.

That night, after mourning my parents, I put on clean clothes and left the clinic with a scalpel.

I dressed carefully, as if for surgery. The air was cold, sharp with the scent of pine. I walked through the dark, every step deliberate.

I started the live stream, swore I hadn’t done those things, and told the viewers to watch carefully to see the real truth.

I stared into the camera, voice steady. "Watch closely," I said. "Tonight, you'll see what real justice looks like."

There was no moon that night, and it was pitch black.

The darkness was absolute, the only light coming from my phone. My breath puffed in the cold air.

I climbed over their wooden fence and snuck in.

The fence creaked under my weight. I landed softly, boots crunching on the frostbitten grass.

Savannah’s father happened to come out and spotted me.

He squinted into the dark, a beer in his hand. "Who's there?"

“Hey, you—”

He didn't get another word out. I moved fast, the scalpel flashing.

Before he finished, I slit his throat in one stroke.

Blood sprayed, hot and bright. He gurgled, collapsed, the beer bottle shattering at his feet.

Ignoring him as he collapsed, clutching his neck and kicking, I rushed into the house and quickly dealt with Savannah’s mother, who came running at the sound.

She screamed, but I was quicker. One slice, and she crumpled. The house fell silent.

Two lives, swift and clean.

My hands didn't shake. There was no satisfaction, only a numb emptiness.

In less than a minute.

It was over before it even began. The blood pooled around my boots.

The streaming platform didn’t even have time to react before banning me.

The feed cut out, the screen going black. But not before a million people saw everything.

The million viewers were dumbfounded.

For a moment, the comment section was silent. Then, chaos erupted—shocked emojis, frantic messages, disbelief.

After more than ten seconds of silence, the comment section exploded.

Insults gave way to horror. "Is this real?" "Call the cops!" The feed was already gone.

Before, the chat was filled with insults against me.

They'd called me every name in the book. Now, they were stunned into silence.

Now, it was all shock, scrolling nonstop.

People couldn't look away. The horror was infectious, spreading like wildfire.

Some trolls even sent me hundreds of Superchats and Bits.

As if bloodshed was just another form of entertainment. The irony made me want to laugh and cry at the same time.

Truly ridiculous.

The world had lost its mind. Or maybe it never had one to begin with.

Following the earlier screams, I slowly found Savannah’s hiding place.

Her cries led me to the backyard, to a battered tent hidden behind the shed. I paused outside the flap, breath catching, heart pounding. For a second, I wondered if I could really go through with it. Then I unzipped the tent.

She was already scared out of her mind, curled up in the corner of a tent, trembling.

She flinched when I stepped inside, shrinking away from me. Her whole body shook with terror.

“No, please... don’t kill me!”

Her voice was hoarse, barely more than a whisper. She pressed herself against the canvas, as if she could disappear.

Gritting my teeth, I grabbed her shirt and dragged her out of the corner.

I forced her to her feet, ignoring her struggles. My grip was iron. My heart pounded, but my resolve was set.

I stared at her and asked, word by word:

I looked her in the eye, searching for any sign of remorse. "I saved your life. Why did you frame me? Why repay kindness with evil?"

“I just want the truth! Speak!”

My voice was raw, desperate. I wanted her to admit what she'd done.

Savannah immediately wailed: “I was wrong, please spare me!”

She collapsed, sobbing. "I'm sorry! Please, don't hurt me!"

“That day I really was raped, but I didn’t see who it was... But my parents said someone had to pay, and you looked like you had money... So... spare me, please, spare me...”

Her words spilled out, broken and pitiful. "I swear, I didn't know who it was... My parents said we needed someone to blame, and you... you looked like you could pay... Please, please..."

Heh.

A bitter laugh escaped me. The absurdity of it all was too much.

Just because of this?

All that pain, all that loss—for money. For nothing.

I smiled bitterly.

There was no joy in it. Only exhaustion.

“How can I spare you? Because of your lies, my parents are dead! I have no home! If I spare you, how do I repay kindness?”

My voice trembled with rage. "You took everything from me. How can I forgive you?"

“God is just. If there’s a next life, I’ll never save heartless people like you again!”

I spat the words, hoping they'd haunt her. Maybe they'd haunt me, too.

With that, I slit her throat.

It was quick, almost merciful. Her eyes went wide, then glassy.

Then, I set myself on fire.

I poured gasoline over myself, the fumes burning my nose. I struck a match. The world went up in flames. The pain was blinding, all-consuming. I screamed, but no one heard.

In the flames, I looked at the camera, expressionless: “As for the rest of you.”

The camera blinked red. My face was blank, empty. "Listen up," I said, voice flat.

“Those who ignore the truth and vent your anger online—I know you’ll never learn your lesson unless you get hurt yourselves.”

"You watched. You judged. You never cared about the truth."

“You drove the innocent me and my even more innocent parents to death. Now that you know the truth, you’ll only pretend to apologize and move on, waiting for the next scandal. Some of you won’t even apologize. Some will even say I was perverted and extreme... Heh.”

I shook my head, disgusted. "You won't change. You'll just find the next victim."

“I hate you, but I also think there’s no point in hating. Because I know, you’re all just losers in life. Life will punish you for me.”

My voice cracked. "You don't need my hatred. Life will take care of you."

I pinned their names to the top of the chat. Let the world see.

I made sure their names were visible, their secrets exposed. Let them taste the fear they gave us.

What awaits them will be the same fate as mine.

"You're next," I whispered. "Justice comes for everyone."

The live broadcast ended.

The screen went black. The world went quiet.

I turned to ashes.

The pain was total, absolute. I welcomed it. It was the only thing left.

After endless burning pain, when I regained consciousness,

There was a moment of nothingness, then the world snapped back into focus. My skin was whole. My heart beat on. I gasped, the taste of smoke still in my mouth. My hands were shaking. Was I alive? Was this some twisted joke?

I opened my eyes and the scene replayed.

The door rattled. Savannah's voice called out, desperate, afraid. The past was present again.

Savannah came to seek help again.

She was outside, pounding on the door. The air was thick with deja vu.

So now, have I been reborn?

I stared at my hands, at the clean clinic. It was real. I was back. Disbelief tangled with dread. I wanted to scream.

Indeed, the ending of my last life was too unfair to me and my parents.

We didn't deserve what happened. Maybe this was a second chance. Or maybe just another circle of hell.

Perhaps even God couldn’t bear to watch.

I looked up at the ceiling, searching for answers. None came.

“Doctor Nate, help...”

Her voice was weak, breaking. The knocks grew softer, then faded.

The heavy knocking on the door continued.

Each thud felt like a heartbeat, echoing in my chest.

Her voice was getting weaker and weaker.

I pressed my hands over my ears, trying to block her out. But the guilt gnawed at me.

But what does it have to do with me?

I reminded myself of everything I'd lost. Compassion had become a luxury I could no longer afford.

This time, I don't care. About any of it.

I steeled myself, heart turning to stone. I owed these people nothing.

I stuffed medical earplugs into my ears and went to sleep.

The silence was blissful, artificial. I drifted off, the weight of exhaustion pulling me under. For once, I slept.

In my dreams, the pain of burning in the fire continued.

Flames licked at my skin, memories swirling. The faces of my parents, Savannah, her family—all danced in the firelight.

Somewhere, a truck rumbled by. Dawn was coming.

Early the next morning, the door of my clinic was kicked open.

The crash jolted me awake. My heart pounded as heavy boots stomped across the floor.

Savannah’s father held a hammer, her mother followed behind, both looking like debt collectors.

He brandished the hammer, face red with rage. She trailed behind, wringing her hands, eyes darting around the room.

Pointing at me, they demanded:

He jabbed the hammer in my direction, voice booming. "Aren't you supposed to have a heart as a doctor? My daughter was assaulted last night, why didn’t you save her?"

I was a little stunned.

I blinked, still groggy from sleep. Their anger washed over me like a wave.

“Really? What happened? I didn’t hear anything. You said your daughter was assaulted? Where is she? Let me see.”

I kept my voice calm, professional. "If she's hurt, bring her here. I'll take a look."

“What happened! You dare ask? My daughter said she knocked on your door for half an hour last night and you didn’t hear?”

He slammed his fist on the counter, making the glass jars rattle. His voice rose, echoing through the clinic.

“She was humiliated and now she’s threatening to kill herself!”

Savannah’s mother sobbed.

She collapsed onto a chair, face buried in her hands. Her shoulders shook with each ragged breath.

I calmly explained:

I took a deep breath, keeping my tone even. "Sorry, I've had insomnia lately, drank a little last night, so I slept deeply and really didn’t hear anything."

“Why don’t you just die! What are you doing, why did you drink at night, don’t you know you’re on duty?”

Savannah’s father grew even more agitated, holding the hammer as if about to attack me.

His knuckles whitened on the handle. For a moment, I thought he might swing.

I repeated:

I raised my hands, palms out. "You two, calm down. I’ve made myself clear."

“I’m not a robot. I also need proper rest to better serve everyone.”

I looked around at the waiting patients. "Even doctors need sleep."

“Also, for something like this, you should call the sheriff. What can I do—catch the criminal for you?”

The absurdity of their demands stung. "I'm not law enforcement."

The folks in the waiting room nodded and spoke up:

An old rancher spoke up. "Yeah, call the sheriff. Dr. Reeves isn’t a machine, he can’t be on duty 24/7."

“Yeah, call the sheriff. Dr. Reeves isn’t a machine, he can’t be on duty 24/7.”

Another woman nodded. "Let the police handle it."

“Nonsense, if you’d saved Savannah last night, maybe the culprit would have been caught!”

Savannah's father shot back, voice trembling with anger.

“My daughter cried all night after coming home, didn’t say what happened, and only this morning said she was... raped!”

His voice broke. The room fell silent.

“So if she was raped, you should call the sheriff.”

The old rancher folded his arms. "That's what the law's for."

The other patients thought the family was being unreasonable.

I saw sympathy in their eyes—for me, not for Savannah's parents.

Savannah’s father immediately snapped:

He spun around, glaring at the crowd. "I’m not talking to you, why are you butting in?"

“Call the sheriff—what about my daughter’s innocence?”

He jabbed a finger at me, voice rising.

“You come to Dr. Reeves, will your daughter’s innocence be restored? Who are you yelling at!”

A burly ranch hand stepped forward, chest puffed out. The tension crackled.

A patient stood up to argue, but I pulled him aside.

I didn't want things to escalate. "Let it go," I whispered.

“Forget it, don’t make trouble.”

I patted his shoulder, trying to defuse the situation.

Then I said to Savannah’s parents:

I turned back to them, voice firm. "You should call the sheriff if needed. If she’s injured, bring her here."

“That’s all I can do for you.”

I made it clear—my role was doctor, not judge or jury.

Within an hour, the police called me in to give a statement.

The phone rang, the sheriff's voice curt. "We need you at the station."

I finished my work and went over, unhurried.

I wrapped up my appointments, locked the clinic, and drove to the station. My hands didn't shake. Not this time.

Savannah sat on a bench, hair disheveled, sobbing uncontrollably.

She looked small, broken. Her parents hovered nearby, faces stormy.

When she saw me, she lunged at me, screaming:

She bolted upright, eyes wild. "You monster, why don’t you die! You ruined my life!"

The police quickly pulled her away.

A deputy stepped between us, holding her back. Her screams echoed in the tiled hallway.

During the commotion, Savannah’s parents rushed over and slapped me several times.

Her father's hand was rough, the blows sharp. I didn't flinch. I let them have their moment. I stared at the wall, jaw tight. I wouldn't give them the satisfaction of seeing me break.

Their curses were as harsh as could be.

They spat every insult they could think of. The words bounced off me, meaningless.

“Bastard, it’s all your fault! The police said all the evidence is gone, it’s all your damn fault! I hope you get hit by a truck, that you choke on water!”

Her mother sobbed, voice cracking. The pain in her words was real, but misplaced.

“Why didn’t you save my daughter last night? She could have gotten justice and the criminal would be punished!”

Her father pointed a trembling finger at me. "You let her down. You let us all down."

“You’re just like that rapist, both deserve to die!”

His voice broke. The room fell silent for a moment.

The police told them to calm down.

The sheriff stepped in, voice firm. "That's enough."

Feeling my burning face, I said calmly:

I touched my cheek, the sting grounding me. "Officer, I want to press charges against them for harassment and assault."

“You’re charging us with assault? That’s here—outside, I’d beat you to death!”

Her father sneered. The threat hung in the air.

“Enough!”

The deputy next to us shouted.

His voice echoed down the hall. The tension snapped.

Savannah’s parents finally lowered their voices:

They muttered curses under their breath, but didn't raise their hands again.

“So what? I’ll apologize to him!”

Her father tried to brush it off, a twisted smirk on his face.

Savannah’s father even tried to joke about it, as if being generous.

He shrugged, as if that settled things. You could feel the anger in the air.

“Not accepted.”

I stared him down, voice steady. "That's not good enough."

I answered crisply and seriously.

I wouldn't let them off the hook. Not this time.

Didn’t they say in my last life that I not only knew medicine but also the law? This life, I’ll show them.

I squared my shoulders. If they wanted a fight, they'd get one. I was done being the victim.

“Officer, they’re suspected of assault, and they did it right here at the station. Isn’t that serious?”

I looked the sheriff in the eye. "You saw it."

“Did you hear that? Dr. Reeves doesn’t accept your apology. What do you want?”

The deputy crossed his arms, waiting for my answer.

“You want money? We have no money!”

Her father spat the words, defiant as ever.

Savannah’s father was still defiant.

He glared at me, jaw clenched.

The officer helplessly reached for his handcuffs.

The click of metal was loud in the quiet room.

Panicked, Savannah’s mother quickly pulled her husband back.

She tugged on his sleeve, eyes wide with fear.

“We’ll pay, we have money!”

Her voice shook. She'd do anything to avoid jail.

In the end, I agreed to settle for five thousand dollars.

It wasn't about the money. It was about making them face consequences. Five grand, a token price for their cruelty.

But after finishing the statement, as I was about to leave, their family of three started making trouble again.

They cornered me in the hallway, voices rising. The drama never ended.

“Why let him go? He ruined my daughter’s innocence!”

Her mother wailed, clutching Savannah. The sheriff rolled his eyes.

“Dr. Reeves just didn’t help, and he wasn’t obligated to. We’ve understood the situation. We’ll investigate the suspect’s identity. You go home and wait.”

The sheriff's voice was tired. "Let us do our jobs."

“No, he can’t leave, absolutely not!”

Her mother planted herself in front of the door, blocking my way.

Savannah’s mother sat on the ground and clung to my leg.

Her grip was surprisingly strong. I tried to shake her off, but she held fast.

“It’s not fair, he blackmailed us for five thousand, now he’s getting away, how do you handle cases? I don’t agree, you must arrest him!”

She looked up at the deputies, eyes wild. "This isn't justice!"

“Did you make a deal with him? Did he pay you off?”

Her voice was shrill, accusatory. The deputies exchanged weary glances.

Savannah herself shouted nearby:

She paced the hallway, fists clenched. "If it weren’t for him, how could you not find that monster? I’m going to report you—for covering up!"

“What do you think this place is!”

The sheriff snapped, patience worn thin. "This is a police station, not a circus."

The police couldn’t stand it anymore and issued a warning.

He pointed at Savannah's parents. "One more outburst and you're spending the night in a cell."

“It’s one thing for the kid to be upset, but you two adults should know better.”

His tone was sharp. The room quieted.

“Why should he have to help you? Doesn’t he need to sleep? What if he opens the door at midnight and runs into a bad guy?”

He looked at me, a hint of sympathy in his eyes.

“This is your warning. If you obstruct official business again, you’ll be detained!”

He snapped the cuffs for emphasis. Savannah's parents backed off, muttering.

At the mention of detention, they finally backed down.

They glared at me, faces twisted with resentment. I ignored them, head held high.

They glared at me viciously as I left the station.

Their eyes burned holes in my back. I didn't look back.

The next day, while I was helping patients get their prescriptions, Savannah and her parents suddenly brought the police and burst in.

They stormed through the door, deputies in tow. The waiting room went silent.

Pointing at me, they shouted:

Her father jabbed a finger at me, voice hoarse. "It’s him, he raped my daughter!"

My mind buzzed.

The world spun. My breath caught in my throat. Not again.

The experiences of my previous life flashed through my mind.

I saw it all—the accusations, the hate, the fire. Was I doomed to repeat this forever?

Is this really a fate I can’t escape?

I stared at Savannah, at her parents, at the deputies. The circle closed in. My heart pounded.

Overnight, how did things return to the starting point again!

I gripped the counter, knuckles white. The world had looped back to the beginning. I wondered if this time, I could break free. Or if I was trapped forever, reliving the same nightmare, over and over again. Was this my hell?