May 22nd

I have been living in May twenty-second for a long time now.

I wished for one thing, only one thing. Fate seems to be giving me the chance to save that one thing, but I have failed too many times.

In exactly ten seconds, I will get the text message that is the sole reminder of my failure. The text, although in different variants, is always there before everything melts and rewinds back in time to give me another chance to save a certain fate that seems so doomed and hopeless, yet I keep trying to turn it all around.

I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath while trying to relax my buzzing and anxious thoughts.

Three… two…one…

Bzzt, bzzt. As predicted, my phone has received a text message.

I didn’t have to look to see who it was from or what it even said; it was a mass text from a classmate in school, highlighting a rumor that has been jumping through the air in technological sweeps, whispering and hushing an event that I knew all too well.

But today was different. More lives were involved—and it was all my fault.

“Have you heard?” the message read. “Mallory and her family got into a car crash!”

I stopped reading there, knowing that the word “dead” was going to show up, and I was so very tired of seeing  the word come up constantly, forcing its way into my mind every time I relived through May twenty-second.

The words stung. The words really, really stung.

I have made it worse, so much worse than it really was to begin with. I have gone past failure; I was beyond failure for today’s May twenty-second.

I closed my eyes, preparing for the events that were going to happen next.

In exactly fifty-six seconds, the world was going to groan and creak and take a step back to an earlier time as the clock starts to rewind—which, just like every other May twenty-second, was only going to be a handful of minutes. I knew this because it always so painful when I had to shift and rewind my mind and body back to its original state, groaning with the rest of the world as Fate itself pushed and heaved time along with any possible explanation for these events that I experience.

I remember Mallory’s recent actions well. I tried to stop her from walking into the hands of her doomed automobile crash with the sweet promise of death, I honestly really did. I knew that I was losing precious minutes every day—Fate was getting weaker and weaker by the day to push the heavy burden of time back for the sake of one simple life—and I was getting desperate as the failures to save her piled up and up. So, to try in every possible way to save her from this particular Fate, I have done what I thought was a smart idea at the time: execute a plan to have someone else drive Mallory home.

I ended up trying to work with her parents. It was hard to do, and it was hard to accomplish—but I did it. Just mere minutes ago, I was so anxious to see stubborn Mallory not understand why she couldn’t drive home herself, but entered in the car with her mother and little sister anyways. I was so giddy and nervous and restless all at the same time with the possible news that I may have finally—finally—have won this relentless battle against Fate. But now, as I’m staring at the distressing words “Mallory and her family” that popped out of my phone and hung in the air like a ghost, I realized how wrong I was.

I did this. I made this worse. This was my fault.

I brought her family down with her.

You can try to change the world, I heard the faint and strained, raspy voice of Fate that only ever comes out when time is shifting back. You can try to change me. You can change everything—but I will always win.

I braced myself for the time shift back.

The world around me went from white to dark and dark to white, hastily bending and shifting and contorting in all directions. I felt my skin peel back just a little, and I wanted to scream in the pain and the frustration, but it didn’t come out; it stayed in my throat along with the words Mallory and her family, Mallory and her family.

And then, just as quick as the shift began, it was over.

My heart pulsed, raced. My mind was spinning in all directions, and all I could see was white. I was breathing so hard, so fast, so very heavy.

But Fate has shifted time back enough to bring Mallory back to life. She has not yet died, and as long as I did not execute the previous plan, her family is safe—that enough was enough to motivate me to continue onwards.

I blinked a couple times then realized where I was.

No.

No.

Why was I standing outside? Where was Mallory? According to my quick and swift calculations that I have made in the previous May twenty-second time period, I should have appeared in the school hallway near the exiting doors. There was a pattern; there was always a pattern. So why was I standing out at the school parking lot? Why was the spot that Mallory always parked in empty?

I quickly looked around, frantic. There, at the edge of the street, was Mallory’s old Mazda that was oblivious to the fact that it was going to be crushed and demolished in a matter of mere minutes. It was zooming away, out of reach, too far away.

I froze, and for a brief horrible moment, I thought it was over; I thought I had permanently failed. But then I remembered that Fate will always bring me back to the original May twenty-second time, and to Fate, this was like a game. Why don’t you just give up already? it said in its raspy voice to me several loops back. I will win. I will always win.

I knew from enough of its hideous hoarse messages that Fate loved to tie strings up only to cut them down and laugh at them, but why bring me here, right now, to this place just so it could be done with me, get rid of me, and prove me as a failure?

No. I refuse to fail.

The sun was beating down on me, almost as if it was trying to melt me and fuse me back to its original, natural May twenty-second day with its glaring, daggering rays. The wind cried and blew against my prickling skin, and I could hear the secret message whispered into it: It always wins. It will always win.

But I didn’t want it to win.

I wanted to change the world. I wanted to change the future. I wanted to save Mallory.

I have seen her die too many times, leaving me past the point of desperation. Did Fate know that? Did Fate plan that? I don’t want to see her die anymore. I want to save her. I want to save her life.

I thought fast, heart thudding and pulsing against my chest so hard that it rang in my ears. Maybe Mallory hasn’t trapped herself in the hands of Fate yet; she is no doubt heading there right now, but she has not reached the destination of death yet.

Suddenly all possible ideas rushed in at once, flooding my head with thoughts. I had a car—it was patiently parked nearby—but was I too late? Was she already out of my reach? What was I going to do? How would I stop anything?

The wind clung to my skin once more. It will win. It will always win.

I ran to my car without a second thought, not wanting to waste any more valuable time. Ripping open the door and buckling in, I started the engine and heard the car roar to life, almost as if it was yawning and groaning from a deep slumber. I didn’t want to wait for it to wake up; I kicked the accelerator and went full speed out of the lot.

Nothing can stop me.

No matter what happens, I was going to save Mallory.

There were so many holes in what I was doing, but I didn’t care. I didn’t know what I was doing, but I didn’t care.

I don’t have any more time. This was the last day to save Mallory’s doomed Fate. This was the last day to save the future, the world, her life.

I knew where the crash was held: up on the intersection against Kimberly Road and 6^th Avenue. I knew exactly what happened in the crash: a confused minivan driver failed to yield and collided into what would be one of the city’s biggest and deadliest crashes of the year. I knew exactly when the crash was going to happen: 3:53PM. I knew when the paramedics would arrive: 3:57PM. I knew when Mallory was pronounced dead: 3:58PM—DOA, dead on arrival.

I glanced at the clock. It was 3:49.

I sped up.

What was I going to do? What was there to do?

I sped up some more.

Ten over the speed limit, fifteen, twenty…

Suddenly my vision blackened, blurred. For a moment, I thought I was going to lose control of the wheel, but it was as if something was guiding me—helping me—to go wherever I needed to go. Time slowed down for me, but looking at the clock, the numbers seemed to climb up faster. My breathing was slower, my pulse was lagging, and my mind was stagnant and slow. The roads in front of me suddenly seemed unfamiliar as they started to unwind, and groggily looking around, it was like something—someone—was piecing together a new fate.

A new fate. A new future. A better world.

This was what I always wanted. This was the reason why I was in the May twenty-second loops.

Everything was going to be alright. Everything was not going to be doomed. Everything was going to be fixed. I can finally succeed. I can finally be happy. Mallory can finally be happy.

The road continued to unwind in front of me, and, if I only looked at one certain spot, I could see ghostly traces of other things: cars that were not there a few seconds ago, trees that were blurring into one, far buildings slowly appearing into vision. It was almost as if there were two worlds being meshed into one—Fate, piecing together a new future, a new self.

Suddenly I found myself on Kimberly Road.

I see it. I see Mallory’s old Mazda.

I’m beside Mallory now, I’m turning, I’m cutting my way in front of her. I am going to see it now. I am going to see the events unfold myself.

Time seemed to go back to normal, the unraveling and puzzle-piecing view in front of me now secure and locked in place.

Suddenly I was facing reality, and suddenly the realizations of what was happening dawned on me. Old memories rapidly flooded in my mind, but it was too late.

The failing-to-yield minivan came from my left.

That was all I could see. That was all I could take in. That was all I could react to.

The pain came first more than anything—the sharp shards of glass pierced its way deep into my skin, the metallic structure of the automobile bending and shaping into my form to suffocate me, the dashboard forcing its way to fuse around me without a care, everything bending and contorting to fold me, compress me, cut me, hurt me, kill me.

And then I heard the sounds, the deafening, horrible, screeching metal-against-metal sound. It tore through the air, screamed as the wreckage bounced its way closer to death, crushing me, compressing me, squeezing all the remaining pieces of life out of me.

I couldn’t feel anything after that.

I couldn’t hear anything after that.

I couldn’t do anything after that.

Everything was black.

Everything was silent.

Everything was still.

Why did you do this?  Why did you go back? the sad, raspy voice said to me before all of my senses could completely disappear. I tried to change your fate away from this. I tried to save your life, and I was so close. So why? Why did you choose to go back on the original May twenty-second path?