CHAPTER SIX

Chloe’s lifeless body lay in front of me, her face pale and twisted in a way that made my stomach churn. The room was silent except for the soft, rhythmic sound of my breathing. I couldn’t even bring myself to look at her for long—she was my best friend, the person I’d shared everything with. And now she was gone.

My eyes dropped to the scattered narcotics beside her. Morphine, painkillers, and other substances littered the space like a toxic trail she’d followed to this end. I couldn’t fathom how she had reached this point. Why? Was it because of everything we’d been through recently, or was it the weight of something else entirely?

I felt a tightness in my chest, suffocating me. I couldn’t bear to look at her. I couldn’t bear the guilt of not having noticed the signs. I felt useless, angry at myself for being too wrapped up in my own confusion to see how much pain she was in.

But then, like a snap of reality, something inside me broke. My thoughts cleared for a brief moment, and I remembered the strange power I’d discovered—the ability to bend time itself. A breath caught in my throat as I realized what I had to do.

I couldn’t let Chloe die like this. Not like this. Not before I could make things right.

I reached out to her, my hand trembling, and time began to reverse.

It was subtle at first. A feeling, almost like a ripple passing through the air. The clock’s hands shifted backward, and I watched as the moment of her overdose unraveled in reverse. The pool of her blood, the way her body had crumpled, all faded away. I could feel the weight of my power, the strain it took to manipulate time, but I held on. I wouldn’t let her die.

Her body shifted and stretched, and I saw her come back to life in the moments before she had overdosed. Her eyes fluttered open, and for a split second, she seemed confused—lost in the blur of the past and present.

I kept my focus, pushing further back, retracing the moments that led her here. I saw her fumble with the narcotics, opening the bag and preparing to inject herself. A bitter sadness flooded me, knowing she had made this decision in such a state of despair. My chest tightened as I saw the exact moment where she had become unconscious from over-drinking, her body collapsing as she succumbed to the numbness.

Finally, I stopped. My hand reached for the narcotics she had carelessly dropped beneath the cushions. I grabbed them swiftly and shoved them into my bag, making sure they were far from her reach. I didn’t want to wake her yet—not while she was still caught in the haze of her own confusion.

I turned, the weight of the situation sinking into me like a stone. I couldn’t stay here—not with her so vulnerable. I needed to leave, to get away from this place for a moment and figure out what to do next.

I stepped out of the house, my mind spinning with a thousand questions. Why had Chloe gotten so far down this dark road? Why hadn’t I seen the signs? Could I have done something earlier? Was I to blame for not noticing?

As I walked home, the weight of my actions felt heavy. Time was a gift and a curse—something I couldn’t fully understand or control. But I knew one thing: I had to do whatever it took to save her.

And somehow, deep down, I knew that this wasn’t over. There was something bigger at play, something I hadn’t yet fully grasped. But I would figure it out. For Chloe. For both of us.