Chapter 1

“1922 had been the worst year of my life, one where I’d turned into a man I no longer knew…”  - Stephan King 1922

Dim moonlight illuminated the furniture through the curtains, a steady breeze coming into the room. Nolan rolled over in bed to face the bright neon numbers. The time read 1:45am. He groaned, and rolled back to face the door. His stomach sunk in his chest, although it was a feeling he was used to. He could hear movement from across the house, it was subtle at first, but it began to grow. Footsteps. 

Nolan dreaded this feeling. He could tell exactly where she was in the hall. Creaks in the floorboards, the slow shuffling, it drove Nolan mad. Then they stopped. He knew she was right in front of the door. Nolan felt as if his heart stopped, and his ears rang in the silence. Then the turning of the doorknob, although it lasted only a few seconds, he felt as if it were minutes. As the door swung open, Nolan saw the silhouette of Charlotte standing in the doorway, and it began to walk towards the bed. Nolan rolled over to face his alarm clock. The bright red light blinded him for a mere second, and he closed his eyes tightly. He felt the bed shake, and felt Charlotte pull the blanket over herself. He couldn’t look over, he couldn’t see her.

“Goodnight, Nolan.” She whispered. 

His stomach ached, he didn’t want to respond. 

“Goodnight, Charlotte.”

Nolan didn’t get much sleep.When he woke up, the first thing he saw was the alarm clock, which read 5:23am. He leaned to his left to check the other side of the bed. She was gone. He knew she had walked back across the hall to her study. He sighed, and rolled out of bed. As he made his way downstairs to fix himself a meal he felt his head ache. Nolan felt ill, an inescapable feeling that made him feel almost claustrophobic, trapped in a rotting body. 

The sky was a dark gray, somehow between the time of yesterday and the morning, clouds had invaded the clear skies. Nolan sat in his living room scanning the papers for just a flicker of hope. He had been unemployed for months now, the bills were overdue, and he had just about given up. Ever since he moved in with Charlotte, he lost his job, his dignity and his spark. 

Nolan couldn’t sit still, his skin felt a burning sensation whenever tried. He was distressed, dissatisfied. The chair creaked as he stood up, and his vision clouded with static for a few seconds. The floor groaned as he stomped across it. As he made his way upstairs, he couldn’t help but wonder what his life would be like without Charlotte. 

He crept up the stairs, trying to make as little noise as possible as to the right of the stairs is where she was working. He peered up to the top, the bathroom door was closed. When he reached the top, he made sure to clear out of the way when he opened the door. There had been many times where he had almost fallen down the stairs since the door opened outwards. It was practically a hazard how it was built. He opened the door as quietly as he could, and glanced across the sink. 

Nolan couldn’t make out the man in the mirror. The reflection seemed distorted, almost unrecognizable. He reached down to grab a bright orange pill bottle. The label had been peeled off, the lid was missing and there were only a few pills left. Nolan lifted the bottle up to the light, took a deep breath. He muttered to himself.

“Tomorrow is another day.”

Hours passed, the sun had gone down. Light rain began to sound through the window as Nolan stared blankly at the ceiling. His mind filled with racing thoughts. One word echoed throughout his skull: misery.

Nolan awoke, his body ached. He felt sweaty and disoriented. He could see dim light coming from under the door. He rolled over to look at his clock. It read 1:45am. It was a curse. A constant reminder that he gave his life away to the shell of a woman, and would forever be stuck in a constant cycle of agony and pain. 

He finally couldn’t take it. He felt out of breath, like he was suffocating and he needed air. Despite feeling winded, he felt determined that he could change this hellish pattern he had mistakenly followed for too long. He needed to do something, and quickly. If he didn’t he would be stuck, fate locked with no choice but to spend the rest of his days in absolute despair, with Charlotte. 

He needed it to be different, anything else but this. It always happens this way, he hears her across the hall, she comes in and he gets sick to his stomach. He hated the way she made him feel. It was torture, and he would do anything for the loop to stop. Anything. 

Nolan heard thunder crash, and light illuminated the room for a few seconds. Nolan saw the doorway, and leapt out of the bed. His legs seemed to walk on their own, he had no idea what he was doing, yet somehow he felt in control, like this was what he wanted.

He slowly turned the doorknob and peered into the dark hall. Another rumble followed by light illuminated the hallway. He could see the stairs, across from the bathroom in the middle of the hallway. The door directly across from him was closed. 

Nolan walked calmly and quietly into the dark bathroom, and began to shut the door behind him. The last thing he saw before everything went dark was his strange reflection staring back at him. As he stood in pitch black, he listened closely to his surroundings. At first he heard nothing but soft rain against the glass of the bathroom window. A few seconds later, he heard a subtle rustle, like weight being shifted, from somewhere with him in the bathroom.

Startled, he continued listening. Utter silence, it seemed as if even the rain had stopped. Suddenly, he began to hear something from somewhere else in the house. A loud creak, followed by heavy footsteps. Charlotte. She was moving, he knew she was about to open the door to her study and walk across the hallway towards the bedroom. It was strange, he felt somehow different, like he had somehow altered the loop, by moving rooms. But what would happen when she notices he's gone? She would call for him to come to bed. His stomach sunk in his chest. 

There it was again. That feeling. The feeling Nolan dreads so much to the point where it's all he thinks about. It burned, his lungs felt heavy and his head began to sting. Nothing had really changed. He will be here forever. Until he is rotting in the ground, buried next to Charlotte. Sweat rolled down his forehead, his chest tightened. He couldn’t breathe, he refused to come back to bed. He would stay in this bathroom. Nolan would rather die than spend another night with Charlotte. 

The door opened, the heavy footsteps got louder. He could hear her breathing, slowly moving from the doorway, about to pass the bathroom door and stairs. His ears began to ring. He felt as if time had stopped. They stopped ringing the instant a low rumble echoed into the house. Light flashed through the window, and for a second he could see. Standing behind his reflection, the illumination revealed a figure behind him. He could barely make out a horribly disfigured man. Then almost immediately, the light quickly faded back into pitch black.

He screamed, and panic set in. Frantically Nolan started feeling through the dark for the doorknob. He hit his hand hard against the door, yet continued to search. He couldn’t hear anything but the panicked sounds he himself was making. He couldn’t find it, had it somehow disappeared? Adrenaline rushed through him, in the back of his head he wondered which was worse, whatever was inside here with him, or Charlotte on the other side of this door. 

Just then, he found it. He turned it and burst through the door, practically throwing himself out of the dark room. Nolan felt himself collide into something, his shoulder crashed against something hard, and he fell to the ground. 

Nolan heard a scream followed by loud crashing. He lifted his head just in time to see Charlotte’s limp body fall down the last few steps of the long steep stairs. Everything happened so fast, it took Nolan a few seconds to process what had happened.

“Charlotte?” He whispered. His voice barely came out, and he felt something wet dripping from his arms. He whipped his head around to face the bathroom door, and sat up on his knees. With the little light from the hallway, he could now see into the empty bathroom. 

Thunder crashed again as Nolan looked down at his hands. They were shaking violently and were covered in blood, presumably from beating the door frantically with his hands. He looked back down the stairs, where she lay motionless. Nolan slowly got to his feet. His whole body was shaking, and nearby thunder kept rumbling and lighting up the horrid scene. 

He ran down the stairs, and knelt down by Charlotte's side. He didn’t hear breathing, and he could see small drops of red scattered across the bottom steps. 

Nolan checked her pulse. He stumbled back and leaned against the wall. This couldn’t be happening. He killed her. He murdered his wife. His vision went blurry, and his ears once more began to ring. What would he do? What if someone finds out? Would they take him to jail? 

No. He couldn’t be better. He had finally gotten rid of his problem. He had finally broken the cycle. Nolan couldn’t help but laugh, a deep bellowing laugh that echoed throughout the empty house. He had finally done it, Charlotte was dead. Everything seemed to make sense now, he somehow felt pride. This accident was a gift, just what he needed. Something he had been wishing for, for almost as long as he could remember. And nobody was going to find out. 

He began dragging the corpse across the house. The limp motionless mass felt uncomfortable to move around, and surprisingly heavy. Several times a limb or the head would bash into a corner, or furniture. He was making a mess, but it was nothing he couldn’t clean up later. Right now, he needs to get rid of the body. 

When he got to the basement stairs, he was out of breath. He dragged the body to the edge and positioned it to roll off the ledge. He kicked it down, and watched as it helplessly rolled to the darkness of the dank basement. He heard it hit the hard stone floor at the bottom, and slowly shut the door. 

Nolan was free. He would never feel the feeling of dread again. Alone at last. By breaking the cycle he had opened up new gateways; new choices. He could do whatever he wanted to. Nobody would ever find out about Charlotte. He would properly dispose of her, claim she had gone missing and start a new life, a fresh start. Nolan had waited for this moment for what felt like ages, and he was excited to start anew. Somehow, he hadn’t felt nearly an ounce of regret or guilt. His mind felt clear for the first time in years. It was all so strange, how something so awful could give him such beautiful feelings. 

He began to walk back to the stairs, passing by the familiar rooms, admiring the furniture. It was all his now. All of it belonged to him. He and only he could use it. The thought of it felt just a little selfish and cruel but it hardly mattered now. He brushed it off and started up the stairs, when he heard a subtle sound from somewhere downstairs. 

His body stopped, he stood there and listened, he heard another rustle, but it sounded as if it were coming from upstairs this time.

I'm still a little shaken, it's really nothing. He continued upstairs and walked into his bedroom. Where he lay staring at the ceiling. It felt so strange, his new life. But he was happy things happened the way they did, after all, his life was about to change. 

Nolan covered himself with the blanket and got comfortable in his very own queen-sized bed. He was exhausted. Within minutes he felt himself nearly asleep, slipping into sweet unconsciousness. He thought he heard light movement from across the hallway, but he figured he must already be asleep.