I Died, Then the Night Repeated / Chapter 3: Trapped in the Endless Night
I Died, Then the Night Repeated

I Died, Then the Night Repeated

Author: Michael Branch

Chapter 3: Trapped in the Endless Night

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I jolted awake. My whole body jerked, heart racing.

My heart was pounding so hard I thought it might burst. Sweat drenched my shirt. For a moment, I didn’t know where—or when—I was. I gasped for air, desperate for something solid.

My hands shook as I touched my neck, half-expecting to find blood. But there was nothing—just skin, slick with sweat. Relief and fear tangled together inside me.

Around me was my familiar bedroom. Grandma's voice drifted from behind me: "Ellie, stop studying. You've got the test tomorrow—get some rest. Got your admission ticket? Pack extra pencils." The ordinary words felt like a lifeline.

Her voice was a lifeline, pulling me back to reality. I looked around, taking in every detail—the faded posters on my wall, the stack of textbooks, the smell of cinnamon wafting from the kitchen. Was it really happening again?

I checked the time immediately. June 6th, 10 p.m. My heart skipped a beat.

The same moment, the same night. The universe had hit rewind again. I was back at the beginning.

I'd gone back again—to the moment before the killers arrived. My hands shook. Could I change anything this time?

Was this an endless loop? The thought made my skin crawl. Was I trapped here forever?

Was I trapped in some kind of nightmare, doomed to relive this night over and over? The thought made me dizzy. My head spun.

I held my head and trembled, a thousand questions spinning through my mind. Why us? Why now? How do I break the cycle?

I tried to piece together everything I’d learned, every mistake I’d made. I replayed every detail, searching for something I missed.

First, this wasn't a random crime. Our neighborhood was an old, run-down place from the seventies or eighties, with plenty of other residents. Why did they pick our home? What made us stand out?

There were dozens of apartments, some nicer than ours. What made us the target? Was it something about Grandma? About me? I racked my brain, desperate for a clue.

Before I could think further, the door was knocked again. My heart jumped. Not again.

The sound was sharp, urgent. My blood ran cold. Every muscle tensed.

This time, I shoved a cabinet against the door, trying to buy a little more time. The effort made my arms ache, but I didn’t stop.

I dragged the old bookcase over, heart pounding, my hands slick with sweat. The wood scraped the floor, loud in the silence. I prayed it would hold.

The next second, a cold axe blade smashed through the door—bang! My body jerked at the sound.

Splinters flew everywhere. I ducked, covering my head as the blade bit into the wood again. My breath came in short, sharp gasps.

The wood cracked and splintered. My only barrier was breaking apart.

Chunks of door rained down onto the carpet. I could see Big Hank’s eye through the hole, wild and gleaming. My blood ran cold.

He flashed a wolfish grin through the splinters. His teeth gleamed, hungry and cruel.

He licked his lips, taunting me. “Come on, kid. Show me what you got.” His words dripped with mockery.

"Little girl, playing hide-and-seek? Then the big guy's gonna play rough." His tone was mocking, oily, sending chills down my spine.

His voice was oily, mocking. I felt my stomach turn. I clutched the hammer tighter, refusing to back down.

The door crashed open. I grabbed a hammer and charged at them without hesitation. My heart roared in my chest.

I swung wildly, adrenaline surging through me. For a split second, I thought maybe—just maybe—I could win. But they were too strong, too fast.

I lost count of how many times I was killed. Each death burned into my memory, each pain different, but always ending in darkness.

Each time, the pain was different. Sometimes quick, sometimes slow. But it always ended the same way—me, staring up at the ceiling, wishing for another chance. Over and over.

I used everything in the house—bug spray, hammers... I even tried to poison their noodles with rat poison, hoping Grandma could slip it in while cooking. Nothing worked.

I tried every trick I could think of—traps, weapons, even begging. Nothing worked. They always found us, always won. Hope slipped further away each time.

No matter what I tried, we both died. The universe wouldn’t let us go.

The universe seemed determined to teach me something, but I couldn’t figure out what. I was missing something. I had to be.

No, there’s no unsolvable problem—only the wrong approach. I held onto that, refusing to give up.

That was what my math teacher always said. I clung to that thought, searching for the right answer. There had to be one.

With no way to call for help, how could I get the police here as fast as possible? I racked my brain, desperate for a solution.

I needed a signal, a distraction—something big enough to bring the whole neighborhood running. Something no one could ignore.

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