Three Weeks and One Day Before the Accident
Three weeks and one day before the accident—
The building at the far end of the estate stood apart from the rest.
Its walls were blackened, the windows boarded with uneven planks. Scorch marks still showed beneath the peeling paint, as if the fire had never truly been extinguished. A heavy iron lock hung on the door, rust eating through its edges.
"This place burned," Ava murmured. "They never rebuilt it."
Prim stepped forward and snapped the lock with practiced ease.
The door creaked open.
Dust rushed out, swirling like fog. The scent of ash lingered—old, bitter, stubborn, refusing to fade no matter how much time had passed.
The room was narrow but deep, the ceiling low and cracked. Furniture sat frozen in time: a narrow bed with a rotted frame, a wooden desk warped by heat, a chair collapsed onto its side. Charred marks crawled up the walls like black veins.
Photographs still hung crookedly—an elderly woman smiling stiffly beside a younger maid. Their faces were faded, cracked beneath warped glass.
"This was Grandma's right-hand maid's quarters," Prim said quietly.
Ava ran her fingers across the desk. The surface flaked beneath her touch.
Shelves lined the walls, cluttered with yellowed notebooks, melted candle stubs, and old trinkets arranged too carefully to be trash. Everything felt… deliberate. As if someone had wanted it this way.
Then—
Thud.
A small wooden box slid off the top shelf and hit the floor.
The sound echoed far too loudly.
Prim and Ava stared at it.
"Rock, paper, scissors," Prim said.
Ava sighed. "You're unbelievable."
She played rock. He played paper.
"Best of three," he added quickly.
Again—rock beat scissors.
"Last round," Ava warned.
Another tie.
Prim crouched. "We open it together."
The lid creaked as they lifted it.
Inside were neatly stacked papers, tied with faded thread—and beneath them, a clock pendant.
The metal was cold, heavier than it looked. Fine cracks spidered across its surface. The glass was cloudy, the hands frozen in place.
"I was hoping for gold," Prim muttered.
"Right," Ava said dryly. "Treasure."
She unfolded the first paper.
> I have done my part.
What is done is done.
Fate is not meant to be rewritten.
Do not change it.
The handwriting was sharp, deliberate—each stroke firm, as if written without hesitation.
Ava giggled. "This sounds like a riddle."
She picked up the next paper and read aloud.
> The outcome you desire is not the one you will receive.
She tilted her head. "This has to be Grandma's late maid. It feels like one of those I saw too much and now I'm cryptic situations."
Prim clicked his tongue. "I don't like this. This is exactly the kind of horror nonsense where a woman starts following us at night and suddenly we're solving mysteries instead of sleeping. I'm not built for that. I need my beauty sleep—I've been far too active lately."
Ava ignored him and continued.
> I am the last.
The past. The present. The future.
I was sent to fix the crack.
Her fingers tightened around the paper.
> I am family.
I will not stop until I succeed.
The clock will be your limit.
The words settled heavily in the air.
Silence pressed in around them.
Ava exhaled slowly. "It's not about the future," she murmured. "Cracks don't start there. They begin at the very first fracture. Fix it too late, and you only widen it."
She paused, thinking. "This sounds like it takes you back—to where the problem started. The past."
Prim stared at her. "I understand one thing," he said flatly. "This is exactly how horror movies start."
"I know," Ava replied calmly. "Which is why we don't activate anything." She glanced at the pendant on the floor. "I love riddles, but I don't love dying."
She turned—
Her foot caught the edge of a broken floorboard.
The pendant slipped from her hand.
Clang.
It rolled across the floor.
A shadow stretched across the room.
Ava froze.
Prim turned—
"Fuck."
Elena stood in the doorway, half-lit by moonlight, her expression unreadable.
"You look terrified," Elena said mockingly. "Do I look like a ghost?"
"I don't want to be mean," Ava said calmly, eyes flicking over Elena, "but have you looked in a mirror lately? This lighting, your hair, that makeup—congratulations. You look like a ghost bride , you like Cinderella stepsister sister poor version and that speaks alot."
Prim nodded in agreement. "You appeared behind us, spoke like that, and you look like that. That's usually step one before someone starts twitching and turning into a monster."
He paused, then added helpfully, "No offense. You could pass as Dracula with you naturally look no offense I mean it means you are something powerful though you will be afraid of garlic and sunlight."
Elena's smile twisted, something sharp and ugly breaking through.
"If I'm a ghost," she snapped, "then I'll do this!"
She stormed forward and slammed the clock pendant against the stone floor.
The impact rang through the room.
"I wish you'd disappear!" Elena screamed. "Go back to the past and die!"
Her voice cracked with rage, spilling years of bitterness.
"So what if you have everything? Your parents don't even love each other. You don't know what real love is."
Ava yawned.
Prim muttered, "Crazy."
Elena laughed—a sharp, brittle sound.
"You're just an upgraded orphan," she said coldly. "That's your crack."
She turned away—
And froze.
The pendant was glowing.
Before either of them could speak, a violent force yanked at their bodies, as if invisible hands had latched onto their bones, dragging them toward the light.
"What the—"
The room exploded.
Blinding white light tore through the space as a shockwave blasted outward, hurling Elena backward like a broken doll.
The walls screamed.
The floor trembled.
Then—
Everything went dark.
The walls screamed.
The floor shook.
Then—
Silence.
Darkness swallowed everything.
They both screamed as though they were plummeting from a hundred-thousand-story building. Gravity felt like an enemy as they fell, crashing into a river below. Waves slammed around them, and after what felt like hours, they finally dragged themselves out of the water.
"Holy—fuck!" Ava gasped, panting hard.
Prim collapsed on the wet ground, shivering. "I… I think I'm going to be sick," he muttered to himself.
They both looked around, drenched and shivering, then burst out laughing despite themselves.
"We're… in drugs? Wait—no, tell me why we're here! Why aren't we in that old house?" Ava asked, wiping water from her face.
Prim chuckled, his teeth gleaming even in the dim light under the bridge. "It's not like we can be in the past, right? I mean, come on… why does it always work when something bad happens?"
"Must be a dream," Ava whispered, only for Prim to smack the back of her head.
"Have you woken up yet?" he asked, grinning as he ran. Ava chased after him, laughing.
When they finally emerged onto the main road, the city seemed alive in contrast to the dark chaos under the bridge. Streetlights reflected off puddles, neon signs buzzed above late-night shops, and cars splashed through waterlogged streets. People slowed down to watch two dripping teenagers sprint past, their hair clinging to their faces, clothes plastered, shoes squelching with every step. A vendor on the corner dropped a tray of roasted corn in surprise; a group of teens sitting on the sidewalk pointed and whispered.
Ava grabbed Prim's hand. "Just… ignore them," she said, ducking under a low-hanging banner advertising a ramen shop.
They slid into a small convenience store. The warm fluorescent light stung their soaked eyes. The smell of bread, instant noodles, and cleaning supplies filled the cramped space. A few customers glanced at them—one elderly man shuffled his cart nervously, a teenage girl peered at them over the top of a magazine, and a pair of delivery workers muttered under their breath as they picked up boxes of drinks.
Ava's eyes darted over the shelves, taking in chips, bottled drinks, and candy. Prim headed straight to the counter.
"Beautiful sis, can I use your phone?" Prim asked, voice tight with urgency. "I need to make a quick call. We… we just had an accident—a cruise ship accident in the sea—and… we woke up under a bridge."
The woman behind the counter's heart ached at the sight of him. Handsome, soaked, his expression a mix of fear and pain. He called her "big sis," and there was something about the way he carried himself that made her think he was rich, spoiled even—but terrified. She handed him the phone without a word.
Prim's real goal wasn't to call for help. He dialed a number that didn't exist, pretending to talk to someone. He acted concerned for friends who weren't there, then carefully handed the phone back. The woman, trusting him, gave him a small bag of chips and a bottle of water.
"Thank you," Prim said softly, returning to Ava with his snacks.
"We're… back in the past," he said, unwrapping the chips. "Twenty-one years ago. Before we were born."
Ava's eyes widened. "Before we were born? That means… the pendant brought us here. Remember the letter? It said, 'I'm the last, the present, the future. I'm family. I'm here to fix the crack.' It meant there's a problem we don't know about—but it exists. What did Elena say after breaking the pendant?"
"Go back to the past… and die, upgrade orphan," Prim muttered, sipping the water.
"No, not that idiot," Ava said quickly. "She said go back to the past. What if… you have everything, but your parents hate each other? You don't know what family love is. You have everything, yet you're an orphan—that's your crack, your problem. And the pendant… it fixes cracks. So when Elena said that, it was telling the pendant we have a problem. That's why it sent us back—to fix our parents, to bring them together. That's the problem," Ava explained, clapping her hands.
"Damn, I'm smart," she said, patting herself on the shoulder proudly.
Meanwhile, through the store's glass windows, a few more strangers had stopped to stare. A taxi skidded past a puddle, spraying water onto the sidewalk. Neon signs flickered, illuminating Prim and Ava's dripping forms. Yet, amidst the chaos of the modern city around them, they felt the strangeness of their situation—out of time, out of place, yet fully alive in this strange, wet night.
"Don't you remember the warning?" Prim said lazily as they walked. "Fate is not meant to be rewritten. Do not change it. The outcome you desire is not what you will have. That was a clear red warning."
"I know," Ava replied, rolling her eyes. "What do I look like, a love doctor? So much unpaid work. Let's try going back to the bridge and see if we can return."
They left the store, stepping back into the night. The city had grown louder—cars honked, engines rumbled, a group of drunk men laughed too loudly near a food stall. Streetlights flickered as they crossed the road, dodging puddles and curious stares, until the noise dulled and the concrete shadows of the bridge swallowed them again.
"So what's the plan?" Prim asked, peering down at the dark river below. "Jump back in and hope time feels generous?"
Ava looked at him calmly.
Then she took the snacks and water from his hands.
And pushed him.
Prim's shout echoed under the bridge as his body disappeared into the river with a splash. Ava sat down on the edge, casually opening the chips and eating while swinging her legs.
Twenty minutes later, Prim dragged himself back up, soaked head to toe, breathing hard, hair plastered to his face.
"Well?" Ava asked. "Did it work?"
"Yes," Prim replied flatly. "It worked perfectly. We're back in the present. Of course it didn't work, idiot. Have you ever watched TV? If it were that easy, twenty‑five episodes would've been saved."
He ran a hand through his dripping hair, water splashing everywhere. "I'm wet. Everywhere," he muttered.
Ava gagged. "Disgusting. Stop talking."
They stood in silence under the bridge, the river flowing like it was mocking them.
"Okay," Ava said slowly. "What if instead of that, we try triggering a reset? Like forcing the pendant to react."
Prim froze and took a step back. "You're insane."
"Relax. I didn't say anything stupid," she snapped.
Prim paused, then stepped forward and reached into Ava's pocket, pulling out the pendant.
Ava's eyes narrowed. "So it followed us here."
"Of course it did," Prim said, examining it. "Then we destroy it. Or bury it. Or throw it into fire. Or off the tallest building. Or give it to a wild animal and see if time panics."
"If none of that works, we sell it," Ava added calmly. "Or we sell you."
Prim sighed deeply. "It's hard being hotter than your own sister. I can't even argue. But not everyone can handle your blindingly ugly personality."
A split second later—
Thud.
The water can smacked straight into his head.
"Shut up," Ava said sweetly.
The pendant glinted faintly between them, silent, unmoving—like it was waiting.