Happy Death Day: Fatal Loop

4

I wandered back to my apartment like a sleepwalker, spending the morning in a daze. Right on cue, the "Traveling Frog" mask I ordered online arrived before lunch. I tore open the package and shoved the mask into my bag without much thought.

Reflecting on the situation, I had to admit there was no mistake in my memory, nor was I dreaming. Like the protagonist in movie like "Happy Death Day," I found myself trapped in an inexplicable loop.

It was June 8th, each cycle filled with similar events, culminating in what was supposed to be Casey's birthday turning into her end.

Unlike the characters in those movies who face death or disaster repeatedly, my turmoil stemmed from my inability to eliminate my nemesis.

From this perspective, Casey seemed more akin to those protagonists, while I appeared as the antagonist. Yet, in the scriptless reality of life, who's to say I couldn't be the protagonist? Especially when Casey had been usurping everything meant for me since joining the drama club—love, career, even the shared spaces in our apartment. If anyone was the villain, it was her.

If I was to be the hero, breaking the cycle wouldn't hinge on survival but on finding the right way to end Casey.

But what was the right way?

I picked up the sharp knife from the table, only to set it down again. In the previous cycles, it had been my instrument of choice.

Yet, that hadn't broken the loop—if my theory was correct. Maybe it was time for a different approach.

The evening crept in, unhurried. I attended the daily drama club rehearsal, where the director announced the upcoming reveal of the new play's leads. Afterward, Casey stepped forward, inviting everyone to her birthday party, just as before.

The party was loud and tedious. I was painfully aware of every word spoken, every gesture made. When it finally ended, I excused myself. But this time, instead of sneaking into a restroom, I hailed a cab to a downtown bar. I stayed there till late, eventually checking into a nearby hotel.

I couldn't return to the apartment tonight. Before leaving at noon, I had emptied the water cooler and thrown away all the bottled water. With no 24-hour convenience stores nearby, Casey would have to boil water for a drink.

Boiling water meant using the stove, which I had tampered with earlier. The moment she turned it on, it would explode.

With that, Casey and our rented apartment would be obliterated in the blast. Though I'd lose all my possessions, at least I'd secure a future.

Of course, all this hinged on my successfully eliminating her.

Though still clueless about the loop's cause, personally, not acting against Casey meant losing out on the best role I'd ever been up for and the person I loved. I was tired of losing, unwilling to be the loser again.

That reason alone was enough to keep me from giving up. I had to resolve this battle with Casey within the loop.

Worst case, if I didn't succeed and the loop reset, I'd at least eliminate one method from my list, edging closer to success.

With indescribable emotions, I drifted off to sleep. When I awoke—or more accurately, was awakened by the jarring sound of "Without You"—I found myself back in my own bed.

It seemed I had failed once more.