Page 1 of Not Her Day to Die

Prologue

They’re both dead.

And again, just like before…

It’s my fault.

1

August 14th

Sitting in the back of the squad car, Darius watches as the woman he loves is driven away in an ambulance, readying himself to face whatever comes his way.

Even with the anxiety of all the new thousands ofwhat ifsthat are forming as he marches on this new timeline, he can’t help but feel relief. He has finally escaped this hell they had been caught in for what was the equivalent of years.

Above, a star falls from the sky.

He doesn’t think.

He makes a wish.

I wish to knowbeforeshe's in danger.

He is so incredibly exhausted from only finding herafterthe fact.

He shifts his attention outside of the vehicle to his phone.

The live stream should still be on, and it appears the sheriff and officers are trying to figure out how to fix that.

“His phone is locked! Did the video end?” an officer calls out.

“No, they keep going even with the screen black. We can’t turn this off,” another replies.

A few beats later and the squad car door is whipped open, the sheriff thrusts the phone into Darius’s uncuffed hands.

Did they keep me uncuffed for the camera’s sake?

“You need to turn this off.” The night is swallowing them, but the other cop car’s headlights illuminate the sheriff. It casts him in eerie shadows, making only his face visible. His beady eyes are bloodshot, his brow furrowed in a mixture of concern and anger. “Before yourfathershows up.”

Darius stiffens, the threat hanging between them. Darius looks down at the phone’s camera, trying to portray to anyone who might be watching with his eyes how desperate he is.

He clicks open the screen and catches that his viewer count on the live video has somehow rocketed into the millions. Cries of police brutality, concerns for the shot woman, and anger at the sheriff’s reaction are highlighted in the comments.

Hope blossoms. But now they need to know who he is. How to find him.

If Sunday is under public scrutiny,theycan’t just kill her and get away with it.

Please don’t hate me for this.

“That was Sunday Masch, and I am Darius O’Brien. We live in Florida, in the small town of–”

The sheriff wrenches the phone from his hands, swearing loudly, and slams the door shut. Darius watches as the man throws his phone to the ground, stomping on it.

Please let that be enough. Let the public’s interest keep her safe. Please.

With Darius still confined to the backseat, an officer gets into the front of the car and races away.

Darius does not know where he will be taken. How this will end.