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7 mo. ago
Playful-Sample6571
He Tried to Save His Family. I Wasn’t
About to Let That Happen.
I ensured Jacob still saw it all when he closed his eyes: the skid of
tyres, the shatter of glass, the silence after the crash.
His parents glanced back just for a sec'nd. Then—ımpαct.
I had him thrown from the car, slamming into the road—I wanted him
to survive after all. His legs were crushed as the car toppled onto
him.
Mom, Dad, little Julian—all of them were go̶ne.
It was hit-and-run. The driver’s car was found empty, the driver
presumably having fled the scène.
I knew better.
That was 20 years ago.
The lab lights flicker and dim—the machine consumes a massive
amount of power. Jacob steps into the chamber of the machine.
I could hear his thoughts:
Today, I’m going to undo it.
It had to be fate that I survived, right?
I chuckle. Who else but me?
A sign that I was meant to find a way back, that I was meant to fix this.
And now, I have.
This is the moment I’ve been waiting for.
But not like I have—not even close.
“Any attempt to alter the past, even the smallest thing, could ripple
outward in ways we can’t predict.”
“The butterfly effect, don’t you understand? The consequences could—
no, would—be drastic.”
I made sure he ignored every warning.
"Besides, the machine might not even work—it's all just theory.”
Oh, I would ensure it worked. To witness what’s to come . .
He types in the date he’d etched into his mind.
The machine pulsed around him, his vision blurred, and his body felt
like it was dissolving.
When the sensatiøn past, and his vision clears, he’s standing in the
middle of a busy street.
Twenty years back. The newspaper on a nearby stand confirms it.
A glance at the watch told him he hadn’t much time.
Quickly, he found the cheapest rental car he could afford and sped
toward the intersection.
The minutes ticked down on his watch.
I’ll save them.
I stifled a laugh. Not yet—it’s too soon. The best part is still to come . .
He neared the intersection. There—up ahead—his family’s car rolled
toward the light. I made sure he saw them all—those sweet
memories. It would make what came next even better.
The light turned red.
He slammed the brake, but the pedal went slack under his foot. He
stomped the pedal again.
Nothing.
In desperation, he yanked the handbrake.
The car kept charging forward.
His family’s car glided into the intersection.
“No, no, no—!”
The sound of the crash, the screams of desperation, paın and fear.
Ah… music to my ears.
I make sure he hears their screams before I pull him back to the
present.
Jacob scrambles to turn the machine back on, but it’s lifeless now.
I won’t let him chaпge a thing.
His purpose is served.
To think he could rewrite what I’ve already written.
Such blasphemy is intolerable.
Toying with humans—how could I ever tire of it?