Page 87 of Kiss Slay Replay

But of course, he looks.

His lips quiver, part to speak. I press my hand over his mouth before he can make a sound. Before he can call out to her. His wedding date. His new love.

She’s somehow still beautiful dead. Or, I guess, undead. Even as a zombie her skin glows, her hair remains in shiny, frizz-free waves. There’s a gash on her neck; bite marks up and down her arms. Her dark lashes flutter despite the yellow gunk crusting in the corners of her eyes. The blood around her mouth could just as easily be lipstick. The most glamorous revenant.

She shudders, takes a step forward, and then just stops. Her head drops to the side, like she’s powering down. She’s pushed back by the man beside her, who lunges at the mirror. He claws at his reflection—confused. He smacks his face against the glass. Again, again, again, again, again. His forehead splits open. He knocks out his teeth. They drop into the sink—clink, clink, clink. Blood spatters.

Tanya fights her way forward to get to the blood—tongue out, screeching. The other woman—who I’m pretty sure is Steph’s cousin—throws herself at the shower door, hissing.

“Hold it,” Ravi whispers, reaching for the door handle.

The two of us grab on, but it’s slippery wet, and our hands are slippery wet.

The woman pulls from the other side, and she’s strong. Crazy strong. Wild and violent and unrelenting. Her eyes bulge out of the sockets; they look like they’re in danger of exploding. Froth spews from her mouth onto the shower door, fizzling, turning from white to yellow to green.

“What if we aim the showerhead out,” I say. “Toward them.”

I see Ravi’s wheels turning. I read his mind. What do we have to lose?

He moves quickly, squishing me into the tile to get to the showerhead. He adjusts it so it sprays out into the bathroom at the trio of zombies. They shriek and flail and run into one another, pull at their own hair, their skin.

And they leave. They retreat into the bedroom.

We stand in the shower, soaking wet, shivering, pressed against each other, his hair dripping into my mouth.

“It worked,” he says, incredulous. “It…”

We’re out of immediate danger, and he’s allowing himself to understand, to let the horror sink in. “They can’t all be…”

“No,” I say, maneuvering so I can hold his shoulders, hold him still. “No. No, this is…this isn’t…real. It’s not real. It’s just one version of today. They’re not gone. It’s not…they’ll come back. Tomorrow. Today. When—”

“Stop! You’re not making any sense. Do you know how you sound?”

“I…” Distant sirens.

Any relief I felt for not getting eaten by zombies drowns in the realization that if I live, there’s no telling if the loop will reset or not. And if it doesn’t, there’s a chance that this is the reality I’m stuck in. One where all my friends are dead, where Danny is dead, where I’m still carrying the burden of my failures, of Ravi’s resentment.

The sirens get louder. Closer.

I can’t do this anymore. I can’t wake up to this day again. Lose everyone again. Watch my friends die. See their eyeless, bleeding corpses. Knives and hammers and evil fucking birds. Slashers. Villains. The undead. I can’t spend another day anticipating the worst only for it to happen, to prove itself.

But I can’t stay in this reality. In this timeline. This can’t be my fate.

I step out of the shower.

“Willa!” Ravi reaches for me, but I slip from his grasp. “What are you doing? Stay here.”

“I…I can’t.”

“They’re still out there.”

“You’re not going to believe me, but I’m doing you a favor.”

“What? Willa! No. I don’t want you to die. Stop. I’m sorry. I’m sorry! You’re right. You were right. About us. About everything. Come back.”

“I really hope you mean that, but I have to go.” I take another step, and I’m out of the radius of the showerhead’s spray, out of the safety of the water.

“Willa!”