I fell.
There was no ground beneath me.
No sky.
No wind.
No sense of direction.
Just darkness.
I couldn't tell whether I was falling upward or downward. My body felt weightless, yet something was pulling me deeper into the darkness.
I tried to scream.
Nothing came out.
I tried to move.
Nothing happened.
So this is death?
After everything I'd heard about the afterlife, I had expected something more impressive.
Heaven.
Hell.
Maybe a giant gate with some ancient-looking old man asking me to explain every stupid decision I'd made in my life.
Instead, I got darkness.
Then I heard a voice.
"Are you going to keep screaming?"
I froze.
I wasn't screaming.
At least, I didn't think I was.
The voice sounded like a girl.
Young.
Calm.
And incredibly annoyed.
"I can hear you, you know."
I tried to speak.
This time, something came out.
"Where am I?"
The darkness suddenly disappeared.
My feet touched the ground.
I nearly fell over.
I looked around.
Nothing.
There was no floor beneath me, yet I was standing on something solid.
The world around me looked like an endless night sky.
Stars floated everywhere.
Some were bright.
Some were barely visible.
And some seemed to be moving.
"What is this place?"
"Between."
I turned around.
Rosalyn stood behind me.
The same girl from before.
Black hair.
Pale skin.
Purple eyes.
Black clothing decorated with strange silver symbols.
And that ridiculous scythe.
She was sitting on nothing.
Literally.
Her legs were crossed as she floated several feet above the ground.
She looked at me with an expression that suggested she was already tired of dealing with me.
I pointed at her.
"You."
She raised an eyebrow.
"Me."
"You said I was dead."
"You are."
"And then you said I was going back."
"I did."
"Then why am I still here?"
She shrugged.
"Because you haven't gone back yet."
I stared at her.
"…That's your explanation?"
"Yes."
"That's terrible."
"It's accurate."
I rubbed my forehead.
Apparently, death hadn't improved my patience.
"Okay."
I took a breath.
"Let's start over."
Rosalyn sighed.
"Fine."
She snapped her fingers.
A small wooden table appeared between us.
Two chairs followed.
Then a teapot.
I stared at the table.
"Where did that come from?"
"Magic."
"You're a Reaper."
"Reapers can use magic."
"Why?"
"Because we can."
"That doesn't explain anything."
"It wasn't supposed to."
She sat down.
I remained standing.
Rosalyn poured herself tea.
Then she looked up at me.
"Sit."
I sat.
She pushed a cup toward me.
I stared at it.
"Can I drink that?"
"Probably."
"Probably?"
"You're dead. I'm not sure whether dead people can drink tea."
"That's reassuring."
I picked up the cup anyway.
The tea smelled surprisingly good.
I took a sip.
It tasted like jasmine.
I looked at Rosalyn.
"This is actually pretty good."
"I know."
She took another sip.
"I made it."
"Of course you did."
For some reason, sitting there drinking tea with a Reaper after dying felt more ridiculous than terrifying.
Maybe that was the point.
Maybe my brain simply hadn't accepted what had happened yet.
I placed the cup down.
"Rebecca."
Rosalyn's expression changed.
Only slightly.
But I noticed.
"What about her?"
"Is she alive?"
Rosalyn didn't answer.
"Rosalyn."
She looked away.
"Terrence…"
"Is she alive?"
Silence.
My hands tightened around the cup.
"Please."
She finally looked at me.
"Rebecca survived the initial incident."
My heart jumped.
"But…"
There it was.
That word.
"But."
"What happened?"
Rosalyn lowered her gaze.
"Her condition was critical."
"Was?"
"She died later."
I stopped breathing.
"No."
"I'm sorry."
"No."
I stood so quickly that the chair fell backward.
"No, you said she survived."
"She did."
"Then why didn't you save her?"
Rosalyn didn't respond.
"You're a Reaper!"
My voice echoed through the strange starry space.
"Isn't that what you do?"
"We don't decide who lives."
"Then who does?"
"Fate."
I laughed bitterly.
"Of course."
I turned away.
"Fate."
The word tasted disgusting.
Rosalyn stood.
"Terrence."
"I spent my entire life accepting things I couldn't change."
I clenched my fists.
"I accepted losing her."
"I accepted every mistake."
"I accepted that I'd never get another chance."
I turned toward her.
"And then you tell me Fate decided she had to die?"
Rosalyn stared at me.
"Yes."
"Then I hate Fate."
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then Rosalyn smiled.
Not happily.
Almost knowingly.
"Good."
I frowned.
"What?"
"You should."
She walked toward me.
"Because if you didn't hate it, you wouldn't be willing to fight it."
She reached into her coat.
The same black envelope from before appeared in her hand.
She placed it on the table.
"You asked for another chance."
I stared at the envelope.
"I was emotional."
"You were sincere."
"I was grieving."
"You were sincere."
"I was dying."
"Still sincere."
I sighed.
"You're very annoying."
"I've been told."
She tapped the envelope.
"Open it."
I hesitated.
Then I picked it up.
The envelope felt strangely warm.
There was no name written on it.
Only a symbol.
A circle divided into two halves.
One half was white.
The other was black.
"What is this?"
"Your contract."
"My contract?"
"Your agreement with the Reaper Bureau."
I looked at her.
"I never agreed to anything."
"You did."
"When?"
"When you wished for a second chance."
I frowned.
"That's not a contract."
"For humans, maybe."
She smiled.
"For Reapers, words carry weight."
I opened the envelope.
Inside was a single sheet of black paper.
There were words written in silver ink.
I read the first line.
Subject: Terrence Dang.
My eyes widened.
"How do you know my full name?"
"We're Reapers."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one you're getting."
I continued reading.
My name.
Date of birth.
Time of death.
Cause of death.
Everything was there.
Then I reached the final section.
Contractual Request:
One additional life.
Destination: August 15, 2015.
I stopped.
My eyes widened.
"2015?"
Rosalyn nodded.
"That's your destination."
"Why 2015?"
"Because that's when your Fate began to diverge."
I looked at her.
"What does that mean?"
"It means your life wasn't supposed to become what it became."
I read the document again.
August 15, 2015.
I remembered that date.
It was the summer before my senior year.
I was seventeen.
Rebecca was seventeen.
We hadn't even started dating.
I looked up slowly.
"If I go back…"
"You'll be seventeen again."
My heart began pounding.
"Will I remember everything?"
"Yes."
"Will everyone else remember?"
"No."
"So I'll be the only one who knows?"
"Correct."
"What about Rebecca?"
"She won't remember your future together."
I swallowed.
"Good."
Rosalyn tilted her head.
"Good?"
"I don't want her to remember."
"Why?"
"Because if she remembers everything, then I'm not giving her a second chance."
I looked at the paper.
"I'm giving myself a chance to recreate something that already happened."
Rosalyn smiled.
For the first time, she looked genuinely pleased.
"That's a better answer than I expected."
I looked at her.
"Can I change everything?"
"Yes."
"Can I stop every bad thing from happening?"
"No."
I frowned.
"You just said I can change everything."
"You can change events."
She raised one finger.
"You cannot guarantee outcomes."
Another finger.
"You cannot control another person's free will."
A third.
"And you cannot escape the consequences of your choices."
I stared at her.
"So what's the point?"
Rosalyn's expression became serious.
"The point is that you get to choose."
Those words stayed with me.
Choose.
I'd spent most of my life thinking fate was something that happened to people.
Something they endured.
Something they blamed.
Maybe it wasn't.
Maybe I had simply stopped choosing.
I looked down at the contract.
"What happens to you?"
Rosalyn blinked.
"What?"
"If I go back, what happens to you?"
She looked surprised by the question.
"I'm assigned to you."
"So you'll be there?"
"Probably."
"Probably?"
She rolled her eyes.
"Fine. Yes. I'll be there."
I smiled slightly.
"Good."
"Why?"
"Because someone needs to explain all this."
She groaned.
"I already regret giving you a second chance."
The stars around us began moving.
At first, slowly.
Then faster.
The countless lights stretched into lines.
The strange world began spinning.
I stood.
"What's happening?"
"Time."
Rosalyn picked up her scythe.
"It's time for you to leave."
I looked at her.
"Wait."
She stopped.
"There's something I need to know."
"What?"
I hesitated.
"If I go back…"
My voice became quieter.
"Can I save Rebecca?"
Rosalyn didn't answer immediately.
Then she smiled.
"You can try."
"That's not what I asked."
"I know."
She stepped closer.
"You want a guarantee."
"Yes."
"I can't give you one."
"Why?"
"Because if I told you that Rebecca would live, you'd stop making choices."
I stared at her.
"You'd simply follow the path I gave you."
She placed her hand against my chest.
A strange warmth spread through me.
"You don't need a perfect future, Terrence."
She looked directly into my eyes.
"You need a future you choose yourself."
The world began breaking apart again.
I felt something pulling me backward.
"Rosalyn!"
She raised her voice.
"One more thing!"
"What?"
She smiled mischievously.
"Don't fall in love with me!"
I stared at her.
"What?!"
She laughed.
"Rebecca would probably kill you!"
"That's not helpful!"
"I know!"
The darkness swallowed everything.
I opened my eyes.
Sunlight.
That was the first thing I noticed.
Warm sunlight streamed through a window.
I blinked.
Once.
Twice.
I stared at the ceiling.
It was familiar.
Too familiar.
I slowly sat up.
My heart started racing.
The room.
The desk.
The bookshelf.
The posters.
The old computer.
The cheap alarm clock beside my bed.
I knew this room.
I had slept here hundreds of times.
But I hadn't seen it in years.
My hands began shaking.
I looked down.
They were smaller.
Younger.
My arms were thinner.
I jumped out of bed and ran toward the mirror.
A seventeen-year-old boy stared back at me.
Messy black hair.
Rounder face.
No beard.
No wrinkles.
No signs of the man I had become.
I touched my face.
The reflection did the same.
I whispered:
"…I'm back."
My voice was younger.
I looked toward the calendar.
August 15, 2015.
My knees almost gave out.
It was real.
Rosalyn hadn't lied.
I had gone back.
I had actually gone back.
My phone suddenly rang.
I froze.
The old ringtone.
The one I hadn't heard in more than a decade.
I rushed toward my desk.
The screen lit up.
One name appeared.
A name I thought I would never see again.
Rebecca.
My hand hovered over the phone.
My heart pounded so hard it hurt.
For the first time since waking up, I was afraid.
Not of death.
Not of Fate.
Not of Reapers.
I was afraid of what would happen if I answered.
Because this time…
I had everything to lose again.
I pressed the answer button.
"Hello?"
Silence.
Then her voice.
Soft.
Familiar.
Alive.
"Terrence?"
I closed my eyes.
A tear rolled down my cheek.
"Yeah."
She laughed softly.
"Why do you sound like you're about to cry?"
I smiled.
Because for the first time in years…
I had a reason to.
"I'm just happy to hear your voice."
There was silence on the other end.
Then Rebecca laughed again.
"You're weird."
I wiped my eyes.
"Yeah."
I looked at the calendar.
August 15, 2015.
A new life.
A new beginning.
And somewhere in the back of my mind, I could almost hear Rosalyn laughing.
I smiled.
"Rebecca."
"Hmm?"
"Are you free tomorrow?"
"Why?"
I looked at myself in the mirror.
Seventeen years old.
Alive.
Young.
And holding a second chance in my hands.
"There's somewhere I'd like to take you."