This time around, when Soren woke up, there was no jolting.
Instead, he lay there. Tears falling down the side of his eyes.
He did not stop them—just tearing down as hard as his heart allowed him to pour.
This pain.
It was much different from the others he had felt. Maybe it was because this time around, he had been backstabbed by those he actually cared about.
Those he loved.
He coiled up into himself, fingers squeezing the blanket tighter, searching for comfort he knew the bedding would never give him.
During the past loops, his goal had always been clear.
Wake up and change the day's outcome.
But what was he supposed to do in this situation?
How was he supposed to act?
If Handler's life had been in danger, Soren would not have hesitated to bring the blade to his own throat in order to change that outcome.
And this was the same choice he would have made for Ratler and Slacker, too.
But now? He was confused.
