Day Three
Knox Phillips idea of figuring shit out was sitting in the middle of a diner I was sure he frequented given his conversation with the waiter.
For whatever reason, he'd insisted I eat as he dug a led pencil and a notebook from his backpack and tossed them on to the table between us, only pausing for a moment to open the book before his hand shot across the page. Within the time it took the waiter to take our order and bring back our beverages, Knox already had three bulletin points with a load of word vomit under each one. Knowing it'd only intensify my headache if I were to try and decode it upside down, I just leaned back in the booth and squeezed my eyes shut.
"You okay?" Knox's quiet rasp tore through the light buzzing in my ears and forced my eyes open so I was staring directly into his. "I mean, I know you're not okay. But like. . . you know what, I'll shut up."
"I'm okay, Knox." I responded through a sigh. "Just feel like I was hit by a truck."
He eyed me in concern. "That's because you were, Izzie."
I shook my head. "That's impossible, Knox. If I were hit by a truck I'd be dead or at the very least in a hospital."
"I watched a shard of glass form a car windshield impale you, Izzie." Knox whispered, leaning forward so the nobody could eavesdrop on the conversation. "And you break your neck as you fell down Andres' stairs."
"That's impossible." I breathed. "Knox, it must be some freaky dream or something."
He made a gesture toward my current state. "Does it feel like a dream? How can you explain feeling so much pain if it truly is just some nightmare?"
I didn't have an answer to that and was more than relieved when the waiter set our food on the table. Unaware of just how hungry I was, I immediately started shoving forkfuls of pancakes into my mouth at an alarming rate. It wasn't until I set my fork down to grab my water that I caught Knox eying me from across the table. I could feel warmth in my cheeks immediately as I considered what I'd just done. Blake would have walked right out of the restaurant if I would have eaten like that in his presence.
"Sorry." I muttered, wiping at my mouth with my napkin.
He made a gesture toward my food. "Eat. I'm not judging you, Izzie. Just surprised that you even have an appetite."
"I usually don't eat like this." I felt the need to clarify. "I promise."
"I don't care how you eat as long as you eat."
His response relaxed me a little and I continued eating, a little slower this time.
"So, I made a list here of everything I remember. Obviously, I can't fill in with your memories since I don't have them, so I need you to try and put down everything that you have remembered."
I took the pencil from his grip and nudged the paper closer to me. There was a lot of talk about my life; the popularity, Blake being my boyfriend and Varsity Quarterback. My sister being a brunette.
All stuff I remembered as well. But it was one sentence at the bottom of each of the five bulletins that had me growing ridged.
She dies in my arms
"You were there?" I whispered, trying my hardest to bring the memories to surface. Unfortunately, I couldn't remember either of the instances that Knox claimed I'd died. "When I died?"
"Yes." Knox retorted, stabbing his fork into a ham steak. "The first time I tried running up the stairs when I saw your foot slip but it was too late and I ended up tripping over my own foot. The second, I tried to take you outside because I thought it'd prevent you from falling down the stairs. But the car. . . it came out of nowhere. Hit a streetlamp post and spun out and hit you. One of the shards of glass from the windshield went right through your back into your chest."
I set the pencil down and stared hard at my empty plate. "Why can't I remember?"
"What do you remember, Iz?"
"I remember the morning. Mom playing Halloween music as usual, my sister asking to catch a ride with us. But she was a brunette, like me. Blake and Dre being football players." I whispered. "I remember running into you in the hallway too, and Blake being a dick about you talking to me. The night, though, it's fuzzy. I. . . I think I remember walking up to you. You were wearing like a suit and tie, right?"
He nodded, prompting me to continue.
"But I don't remember anything after running into you. If this. . . if I really am reliving the same day, maybe my brain's way of coping is blocking out each time I die?"
"Have you ever seen Groundhog's Day?" Knox asked after a considering and processing my words.
I nodded slowly. "Yeah, I watched it with my father when I was little. It was his favorite movie."
"Well, Phil was trapped in the loop because he was a dick." Knox recalled, eying me. "What finally broke it was him being selfless."
"Okay, how does that apply to me?" I retorted. "That's just a movie."
"A movie about a man reliving the same day over and over." Knox's reply was said slowly, as if he were talking to a small child. "Which is what we've been doing for the last two days."
I remained quiet as I took in Knox's expression across the table. The boy thoroughly believed we were stuck in some kind of fantastical time loop like the main character of an old Bill Murry movie.
"Knox." I reached across the table and grasped his hands. "Think about what you just said. Do you hear how crazy you sound?"
"Do you have a better explanation?" he snapped.
I sunk back against my seat, crossing my arms as I tried to wrap my head around everything.
On one hand, what Knox was saying made sense and was a good explanation for what was going on, even if a bit fantastical. On the other, it didn't explain why everything was changing each time I came back, or most importantly-why I'm dying every time.
"I know this is all hard to process." Knox broke the silence, leaning over the table as he pushed our plates aside. "Trust me, I'm freaking the hell out. Do you know how helpless I feel watching you die, Elizabeth?"
"Knox—"
"I can't do a God Damn thing to prevent it. I tried last night and you still died, just in a different way."
I lifted my head up and met his eyes again, his image blurring as tears stung my own. "I'm scared."
"Whatever this is it appears to be targeting you, possibly teaching you a lesson of some sort?" he theorized. "I'm not saying it's the same as Phil, because even with all the taint from your friends and boyfriend, you done have a mean bone in your body. But clearly there's a reason why you keep dying and coming back."
"Why are you here?" I whispered, barely audible, then louder, added, "Why, of all people, are you stuck with me? Why do you remember?"
He shook his head, just as lost as me. "I don't know."
*
We sat parked in front of my house for over twenty minutes, just staring at my father's Tahoe. Knox, though he was drumming his fingers against the steering wheel and lost in thought, didn't try and force me from his car. And there was a part of me that was terrified to get out, to leave the security of being under his watch and protection. He'd stated he hadn't been able to save me either time, but he had still tried, and that in itself was enough for me to have to put my faith and trust in him. Especially since he was the only one who seemed to be stuck in this never-ending hell with me.
"Knox." I said now, terrified to step foot outside the car. "I'm scared."
I'd said the same thing back at the diner, but he'd kind of brushed over it, though a look of sympathy and understanding had passed through his eyes. Being in the silence and confinement of his car, he was forced to answer directly.
"I want to promise you it's going to be okay." he eventually said, shifting his body in my direction. "But I can't. I fucking can't and I hate that I can't do a thing to ensure you're safety."
His words hung in the air between us for a few more minutes before I touched the top of his hand. "What if I don't go to the party?"
"What if there's something at the party you need to correct in order to escape this?"
The retort was far from what I was expecting, however practical it may be.
"Knox." my words caught in my throat, and in a choked sob I cried, "I don't want to die."
He unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned over the console of his truck to wrap me in his warm embrace. "I'm sorry."
I wanted him to promise he'd protect me, that he wouldn't let me die again. But pulling away and staring into his eyes, I realized that he couldn't give me what I needed, because he wasn't sure himself of what the future held. He hadn't been enough to help me the last couple times, and even if I couldn't fully remember that, he could.
"I'll be here." he squeezed my shoulders, beautiful eyes roaming my face. "If you die, I will too."
That was far from reassuring, but I suppose it was a little comforting.
He pulled me back against him, and I dug my nails into his shoulder blades. Terrified of the moment I'd have to let go."