Wake Up And Die Again

I was lying in bed, the heavy swell of my pregnancy weighing me down, doom-scrolling through local news on my phone, when a push notification slid across the top of the screen.

[Local Breaking News: Green-wood Heights Wife-Killer Apprehended. Suspect brutally stabbed his pregnant wife to death after she refused intimacy.]

My thumb hovered over the screen. A cold drop of unease landed in my stomach.

I tapped the notification. The timestamp on the article was dated tomorrow.

And the name of the murderer was my husband.

I stared at the screen, convincing myself it was a glitch, a sick prank, some algorithm gone wrong. Then I saw the photo. It was our wedding picture. My face was heavily pixelated to protect the victims identity, but the man standing next to me, smiling that charming, practiced smile, was unmistakable.

My heart hammered against my ribs, skipping a beat.

At that exact moment, the bedroom door creaked open.

My husband stood in the doorway. He licked his lips, a slow, predatory smile spreading across his face that made the fine hairs on my arms stand up.

"Hey, babe. I need you tonight."

"Bennett... IIm not feeling great. The baby is kicking up a storm."

My voice trembled, fracturing under the weight of the headline burned into my retinas.

Bennetts smile didnt drop, but it hardened. The warmth evaporated from his eyes, replaced by a sharp, jagged impatience.

"Not feeling well? Again? What is it this time, Claire? What kind of drama are we playing at now?"

I froze.

Bennett never spoke to me like that. He was the picture of patience, the man who brought me ice water at 2:00 AM.

Before I could stammer out a defense, he crossed the room in two long strides and seized my wrist. His grip was iron.

"Is there someone else? Is that it? Is that why you have a new excuse every single night to keep me away?"

I gasped, the pain in my wrist sharp and immediate.

A dark, suffocating dread washed over me. The news article... it wasnt a glitch.

I scrambled backward, trying to kick myself off the mattress, desperate to put distance between us.

But he was impossibly strong. He yanked me back, throwing me down against the sheets with a violence that knocked the wind out of me.

My stomach hit the mattress. A blinding bolt of pain shot through my abdomen.

Bennett didn't even blink. He scanned the room, his eyes landing on the nightstand. He grabbed the paring knife Id used earlier to slice an apple.

The metal was cool against the frantic pulse in my neck.

"If you're so unwilling," he whispered, his voice devoid of humanity, "then Ill just send you and that bastard child on your way."

The pain was white-hot. Warmth flooded my chest.

I stared up at his facetwisted, unrecognizableas the room began to dissolve into shadows.

...

My eyes snapped open. I bolted upright in bed, my lungs heaving, gasping for air like a drowning woman breaking the surface.

I looked down. My chest was smooth. My skin was unbroken.

My phone screen was still glowing in the dark room. The time had jumped back ten minutes.

And then, the notification slid down from the top of the screen again. The bloody headline.

Click.

The bedroom door handle turned.

The same face appeared. The same predatory smile. The same bone-chilling words.

"Hey, babe. I need you tonight."

This time, I didn't fight.

I forced my breathing to slow. I plastered a weak, apologetic smile onto my face and softened my voice to a whisper.

"Honey, the baby is really restless tonight. Im completely drained. Can we... can we take a rain check?"

I thought gentleness might buy me time. A negotiation.

But the contempt on his face arrived even faster than before.

"That same old line. Claire, do you think I'm an idiot? Do you get off on playing me?"

He stalked toward the bed, the obsession in his eyes dialing up to a fever pitch.

"Claire, do you even love me anymore?"

I didn't get a chance to answer. He lunged at me like a feral animal.

But I was ready. I rolled off the other side of the bed, landing heavy on my feet.

He crashed into the mattress, grabbing at empty air. Humiliated and enraged, he snatched the paring knife from the nightstand.

Its over, I thought. Im going to die again.

He raised the knife, the blade catching the moonlight. In that split second, my eyes locked onto his handspecifically, the web of skin between his thumb and forefinger.

There was a faint, jagged brown birthmark.

My pupils dilated.

Bennett didn't have a birthmark there.

The only person who had that mark was his twin brother. Cole.

Bennett and Cole were identical physically, but that was where the similarities ended. Bennett was polished, successful, the golden boy. Cole was dark, erratic, a volatile recluse. I had always been terrified of him.

Because their parents were deeply superstitiousbelieving twins brought bad fortuneCole had been sent away to live with a grandmother in rural Pennsylvania. He didn't come back until college.

He wasn't close to us. He wasn't even close to Bennett.

Why was Cole pretending to be his brother to kill me?

And where was the real Bennett?

A million terrifying questions misfired in my brain, but survival instinct took over. I tried to run.

I wasn't fast enough.

The knife found its mark again. Precise. Fatal.

Third awakening.

I didn't wait. I launched myself out of bed, slammed the bedroom door, and twisted the lock.

An instant later, the handle jiggled violently from the outside.

My phone lit up. The nightmare notification arrived on schedule.

"Babe, open the door."

I leaned my back against the wood, my heart hammering against my spine.

My shaking fingers dialed Bennetts number.

It rang twice before he picked up.

"Claire?" Bennetts voice came through the speaker, warm but laced with exhaustion. Tears instantly flooded my eyes.

"Bennett..."

"I am so sorry, honey. We hit a crisis with the merger. Im going to be stuck at the office late. Don't wait up, okay? Get some sleep."

My heart plummeted into the icy pit of my stomach.

The person outside the door was definitely Cole.

A heavy thud shook the doorframe. Coles voice was losing the facade, becoming jagged and frantic.

"Claire! Open this door! What the hell are you doing?"

I spoke rapidly into the phone, barely whispering. "Bennett, listen to me. Whatever you hear, do not come home. Call the police! Send help now!"

I hung up. I took a deep breath, faced the vibrating door, and screamed with everything I had left:

"COLE!"

The pounding stopped instantly.

One second. Two seconds.

Then, a sound like thunder.

"How did you know?"

The wood splintered. A massive crack appeared in the center of the door.

He had a fire axe from the hallway. He swung it again and again, wood chips exploding into the room.

Through the jagged hole, Coles eye stared at me, manic and cold.

"Well, sister-in-law," he laughed, a dry, rasping sound. "Since the cat's out of the bag, I guess I can stop pretending. You die tonight."

Fourth loop.

I lay in bed, my body cold as marble.

I had less than five minutes before Cole walked through that door.

I forced the panic down. I needed a plan. I needed a weapon. But I was heavily pregnant; in a physical struggle for a knife, I would lose. He was stronger, faster, and unburdened by a nine-pound baby.

My eyes darted around the room, landing on the vanity.

In the bottom drawer, tucked behind my skincare, was a canister of pepper gel. Id bought it months ago after reading about a robbery nearby.

I moved fast. I grabbed the canister and slid it under the duvet, gripping it tight in my right hand.

I didn't lock the door.

Instead, I walked over and cracked it open just an inch.

I got back into bed, heart thundering.

When Cole walked in, I didn't wait for his line. I pulled the duvet down to reveal my shoulder, tilting my head, giving him a sleepy, inviting smile.

"Honey, you're finally home. I've been waiting for you."

Cole froze.

He stood in the doorway, the script in his head malfunctioning.

I sat up, letting the strap of my silk nightgown slip down my arm. I curled my finger at him.

"What are you standing there for? Come here."

The suspicion in his eyes warred with something else. Lust.

He walked to the bed, his guard dropping. He thought this was going to be easy. He thought hed won.

He leaned over me, his face inches from mine.

I pulled the canister from under the sheets, aimed for his eyes, and depressed the trigger.

"AHH! GOD! MY EYES!"

The scream tore through the house. Cole collapsed onto the bed, thrashing, clawing at his face as the chemical burn set his skin on fire.

Now.

I rolled off the bed and ran. Adrenaline numbed the heaviness of my body.

Hallway. Living room. Foyer.

The front door.

I grabbed the handle and twisted.

Locked.

I looked down. A heavy-duty padlock had been installed on the inside of the door.

Behind me, the screaming had stopped. Heavy, stumbling footsteps were coming down the hall.

"Heh... well played, Claire. You really... you really surprised me."

I froze.

I turned around slowly.

Cole was leaning against the hallway wall, one hand covering his streaming eyes, the other steadying his swaying body. His face was a mask of red, inflamed skin.

"Run," he rasped, stepping into the living room light. "Why aren't you running?"

He laughed, a wet, ugly sound. "You thought a little pepper spray would stop me?"

I looked at the padlock, hope draining out of me like water.

"Cole, why?" I asked, backing away toward the kitchen. "Bennett is your brother. Im your family."

I needed him talking. I needed a way out.

"Brother?" Cole spat the word out. "When has he ever treated me like a brother? Since we were kids, he got everything. Mom and Dads love, the Ivy League degree, the career. And now? He gets you. The trophy wife."

His face twisted, ugly with decades of rot.

"Why him? What does he have that I don't?"

"So you kill me? You think killing me gets you his life?"

"Killing you doesn't get me the life," Cole smirked, wiping mucus from his nose. "But it destroys his. Hell be the husband who snapped. The murderer. He loses his reputation, his freedom, everything. And me? Ill finally watch him suffer while I spend his money."

I understood.

This wasn't just murder. It was usurpation. He wanted to wear Bennetts skin.

"You're insane."

"Insane? You're about to join the club."

He lunged. I screamed, dodging behind the kitchen island.

We circled the granite countertop. But I was slow. Too slow.

He cornered me against the floor-to-ceiling windows. There was nowhere left to go.

The paring knife appeared in his hand again.

"Stop struggling, Claire. Just accept it."

I stared at him. The proximity of death clarified everything. My mind sharpened into a diamond point.

"Wait!" I shouted. "You think destroying him gets you his money? You idiot. Bennetts company is underwater! The merger failed. The funding dried up. He's on the brink of bankruptcy!"

I was gambling.

"If you take his identity now, all you're inheriting is twenty million dollars in debt and a potential prison sentence for fraud."

I watched his face. He hesitated.

"You're lying."

"Am I? Why do you think he's been up till 4:00 AM every night? Why do you think he's so stressed? Check the financial news, Cole. It's all there."

I was planting a seed. Doubt.

It was working. The knife lowered an inch.

Then, his pocket buzzed.

He pulled out his phone. He answered it, putting it on speaker without taking his eyes off me.

A voice filled the room. A voice I knew better than my own.

"Cole, is it done? Is she dead yet?"

My world stopped.

The silence in the room was deafening.

I stared at the caller ID on Coles screen: Bennett.

Bennetts voice was high-pitched, frantic.

"Why aren't you saying anything? Did you do it? Don't forget the deal, Cole. Once she's gone, the ten-million-dollar life insurance payout hits the account. We split it fifty-fifty. That covers the company's debt and sets you up for life."

Cole hung up the phone. A slow, cruel grin spread across his burned face.

"Hear that, Claire? Your perfect husband. He sold you out for a check."

"He planned the whole thing. He knows exactly what I'm doing. Hell, he gave me the key."

Something inside me shattered.

It wasn't the fear of death anymore. It was the total annihilation of my reality.

Bennett. The man who rubbed my feet. The man who cried when we saw the ultrasound.

He wanted me dead. He wanted our child dead. For money.

Thats why the notification was real. Bennett was the murderer. He just outsourced the labor.

The betrayal was so absolute it felt physical, like he had reached inside my chest and crushed my lungs.

"Why..." I whispered.

"Why?" Cole mocked, stepping closer. "Because he loves you, Claire. He loves you so much he couldn't bear to do it himself. So he sent big bad brother Cole to do the dirty work."

He raised the knife.

"You can die happy now. Your death saves the company. You're a hero."

I looked at him. The tears dried up. The heartbreak calcified into something cold and hard.

Screw love.

If I had to crawl out of hell to drag them both down with me, I would do it.

Fifth loop.

I didn't cry. I lay in bed and waited for the knife.

My enemy wasn't just Cole. It was the two of them. A united front.

I couldn't fight them physically. I had to make them turn on each other.

Cole arrived. I didn't act.

"Do it," I said.

He paused, confused by my resignation, but stabbed me anyway.

Sixth loop.

Seventh loop.

Eighth loop.

I used each death to study them. To perfect the timing. To analyze the cracks in their relationship.

Bennetts greed and paranoia. Coles inferiority complex and rage.

Those were my weapons.

Ninth loop.

I was ready.

Before Cole entered, I grabbed my phone. I sent an anonymous email to Bennetts work address.

Subject: Warning.

Body: Watch your brother. He plans to keep the money for himself.

I deleted the sent mail.

I opened the voice recorder app and set it to record.

The door handle turned.

Cole walked in. Before he could speak, I cut him off.

"You're not Bennett. I know you're Cole."

He blinked, stunned, then sneered. "So you know. Does it matter?"

"I know you and Bennett planned this together. For the ten million dollars."

Cole flinched. He stepped forward, reaching for my throat.

I held up the phone, screen facing him. "I'm recording."

He lunged, snatched the phone, smashed it onto the hardwood floor, and stomped on it until the glass was dust.

"You think breaking the phone helps?" I said, my voice steady. "I set that recording to auto-upload to a cloud server. If I don't enter a passcode in three hours, it gets emailed to my best friend, Harper. She goes to the cops."

"Guess who goes down for conspiracy to commit murder? I know you want to replace Bennett, let him take the fall. But think about it... before you walked in, did I record an intro? Did I send Bennett a message telling him I know about your side deal? If he thinks you're a liability... do you really think he'll let you live?"

I laughed. It was a dark, jagged sound. "Your ending won't be much better than mine."

Cole stopped breathing.

He stared at me, and for the first time, I saw it. Fear.

Not of the police. Of Bennett.

"You..." He shook with rage, raising the knife.

"Kill me," I said, closing my eyes. "Kill me, and the email goes out. The recording drops. You both rot in prison. Or worse."

The knife hovered in the air.