"It's dark. So dark and quiet. I know this feeling… I've been here before." The silence presses against my skin, familiar and endless.
"Oh, I know now. I must be back in the afterlife… because I've died again." The thought comes slowly, like a cold wave washing over me, confirming the truth I already fear.
"Ah, back so soon," the creature's voice slithers through the dark, low and amused. "I didn't expect you to return quite this quickly. But then again, you never really had a choice, did you?" Its laughter is soft, unnerving—a sound that grates against the stillness.
"You're laughing like it wasn't your fault I died so fast."
My voice trembles, frustration boiling over. "You sent me back—into my baby brother's body. Is this some sick joke to you?"
The creature's laughter ripples through the darkness, cold and mocking, as if my agony is nothing more than entertainment to it.
"It wasn't my intention," the creature muses, its voice almost playful. "I don't get to choose who you reincarnate as… but it cannot be yourself."
The words hang in the air like a riddle, and I feel a chill settle deep inside me. It's as if the creature finds some twisted pleasure in these rules, in watching me struggle.
"Is that really the extent of your power?" I ask, bitterness sharp in my voice. "You can bend death, twist time… but that's all you can do?"
I stare into the dark, daring it to answer, but the silence that follows feels smug—like it's already won.
"That's all I will do for you," the creature says, voice smooth and uncaring. "I'm not doing this out of kindness… I'm doing it for my own entertainment."
The way it says it—like I'm just a show it's watching—makes something cold settle deep in my chest.
"Entertainment?" I snap, the word tasting bitter. "You could've chosen anyone… so why me?"
The question burns in my chest, heavier each time I ask it. I'm not special—just broken. And maybe that's exactly why.
"You chose this," the creature says, almost amused. "You told me you'd do anything to go back… so I decided, for such a reward, you should be my entertainment."
Its voice is calm, deliberate—like it's explaining something obvious. Like the deal was always fair, and I was always doomed.
"In that case," I said, my voice steadying despite the anger beneath it, "can you tell me the exact rules placed on me… as your plaything?"
The word stung coming out, but I needed to hear it—from him. All of it.
"I suppose it would be interesting to see how you respond," the creature said, almost thoughtful. "Fine then."
It paused, as if savoring the moment. "First—you can be reborn infinitely… or until I get bored. But the body you return to will always belong to someone you share a bond with. Whether they're a friend, an enemy… or blood."
Its voice was calm and clinical.
He had already mostly explained that rule but that means he can't choose exactly who I get reborn as or how close I'll be to my house.
The creature's voice slid through the silence again, cold and deliberate. "Rule number two," it said. "You shall only be reborn ten minutes before the time of your initial death."
The words hang in the air, suffocating.
Ten minutes.
A sliver of time, just enough to know what's coming—and never enough to change it.
It's like a cruel joke. A glimpse of escape, just out of reach.
"Rule number three," the creature continues, its voice smooth like silk. "You will remember everything from each life. Every death. Every moment of pain. But the memories will blur—become harder to grasp—each time you return."
A flicker of something dark crosses my mind.
The thought of forgetting it all, losing pieces of myself each time… makes my skin crawl.
"Then let's go again."
My voice didn't shake this time.
"I'm not done."
Whatever game this is, whatever rules it's playing by—I'll play.
But I'll play my way.
The creature's lips curled into a cold smirk.
"It seems this time will be more… entertaining."
The amusement in its voice was sharp, as if it were savoring my struggle.
"Let's see how long you last this time"
I felt it—the shift—like my body was being ripped apart and stitched together again. Every nerve screamed, every cell twisted and reshaped itself. The world around me was nothing but darkness, then light, then everything in between. It was disorienting, like waking up in the middle of a nightmare.
I gasped, my lungs burning, as the reality of being reborn slammed into me. The world was blurry at first, a dull hum in my ears.
I opened my eyes, and the first thing I saw was a mirror. My reflection—my father's face—staring back at me, wide-eyed and full of terror. My hand was cold, too cold, trembling as I gripped something. A gun.
Before I could make sense of it, panic twisted in my chest. The gun was too familiar, too wrong, but I couldn't move. I felt it—a sudden, sharp pain in my skull as the bullet tore through my head, ripping me apart before I even had a chance to breathe.
The world went black once again.