I Stopped Saving the Second LeadChapter 2

I trailed my fingers gently over his suit jacket, feeling the warmth of his skin underneath. Gripping his shoulder, I lowered my voice into a chilling whisper. “You left our baby alone on a park bench just because Valerie called.”

A heavy sigh escaped his lips.

“Hazel, you cannot blame Valerie for this. It was my decision to go to her. She is completely innocent in this tragedy. How was I supposed to know a toddler would run into traffic?”

His tone was soft, but the underlying thread of impatience was unmistakable.

“If anyone is to blame, it is you. You coddled him too much. You should have taught him not to run off.”

Tears spilled over my lashes, hot and stinging.

He was blaming me. He was blaming a two-year-old boy for acting like a toddler.

I tilted my head up, my eyes glacial. “Excuse me?”

He looked away, unable to meet my stare.

“Look, I know what this is about. You are just paranoid that I am going to leave you for Valerie.”

“Rest assured, Valerie and I are never going to happen. I only went to her because she was injured and needed help.”

“If we were meant to be together, it would have happened years ago. Stop being so irrationally jealous. Let us just arrange the funeral for Finn, take some time to heal, and try for another baby. We just need to move on.”

Move on. As if my son were a spilled cup of coffee.

The truth was, I could not care less who he loved. In my eyes, he could love Valerie, he could love a lamppost, he could be madly in love with a stray dog for all I cared.

All I ever wanted was to complete the damn mission, get my payout, and save my dying mother.

Hearing his delusional rant, I let out a heavy breath. The words "Mission Failed" were currently flashing in neon red across my vision.

I was so incredibly exhausted. I had to start the cycle all over again.

“It is okay,” I murmured. “It will all be over soon. Just endure it for a second.”

I spoke softly, just loud enough for the words to brush against his ear.

“What?” he asked, confused.

I did not bother explaining. In a fraction of a second, my hand slipped into my purse and withdrew the hunting knife. It was a blade I had purchased on the very first day of this fourth timeline.

I always kept it close. The moment the System announced my failure was the moment Tristan met his maker.

I refused to rot in this dimension until I was old and gray. My mother was waiting for me.

If the mission was busted, then Tristan had to bleed so the clock could reset.

“Ding! Host, please calm down! Your heart rate is off the charts. Stop! You have stabbed him three times already! Don't do it! Please…”

The System’s robotic pleas fell on deaf ears. I drove the steel blade straight through Tristan’s ribcage.

A guttural shriek tore from his throat.

Crimson blood erupted from the wound, a warm mist spraying across my cheeks and eyelashes.

Tristan stared down in sheer disbelief at the handle protruding from his chest. He stumbled backward, his lips parting as dark blood bubbled up from his throat.

“Hazel… you…”

He tried to turn and run, but I stepped right into his shadow, refusing to let him escape. I grabbed the handle and twisted, shoving the blade deeper into his flesh.

A twisted smile curled on my lips. “You pathetic excuse for a man. You deserve every ounce of this. I regret ever saving you. I should have let Valerie grind your bones to dust. Go to hell, Tristan. Your parents are waiting for you down there. I am sure they would love to ask their dear son why he fell in love with their murderer.”

In this lifetime, Valerie had caused the horrific multi-car pileup that left Tristan’s parents dead. Yet, Tristan had marched into the police station, signed a forgiveness waiver, and pulled every string he had to keep her out of prison.

Tristan’s eyes bulged with pure terror. “No… please… don't kill me. I…”

Before he could finish begging, I put all my body weight into the knife, burying it to the hilt.

I ripped it out. I plunged it back in.

The pristine hospital floor was transformed into a macabre painting of spilled wine.

Finally, his knees buckled. He collapsed into the growing puddle of his own blood, his eyes wide open, staring blankly at the fluorescent lights.

I dropped the knife, gasping for air, and slumped against the wall, utterly drained.

“Why do you keep doing this?” the System sighed. “Killing him does not solve the mission. Now we have to trigger the reset.”

I scoffed, wiping a smear of blood from my cheek. “If I don't kill him, I am stuck living out the next sixty years in this hellhole without a dime to save my mom. I would rather watch him bleed.”