[ WP ] Every time you die , you are transported to the time of the first event that ultimately caused your death . One day , you are hit by a car and sent 12 years into the past .

I sat up in bed slowly and rubbed my eyes. Images of the plane engine exploding outside my precious window seat filled my vision like the lingering spots from a camera flash. 
 
 `` Seems like visiting Egypt by passing through France is a bad idea,'' I said to myself. 
 
 `` What's that, babe?'' a deep, sleepy voice muttered next to me. 
 
 Had my place in the bed been spring-loaded, I could not have made out from the sheets to stand against the wall any quicker. 
 
 `` Umm, nothing... Marcus?'' Marcus Collins was my boyfriend twelve years ago. Eleven years ago we became `` just friends'', and ten years ago we stopped talking. I had n't really thought about him much since then. `` Go back to sleep.'' 
 
 `` Can you bring me some water?'' 
 
 `` Yea. Yeah, okay, some water.'' 
 
 I threw on some faded jeans and a t-shirt as I made my way to the kitchen with no intent to get Marcus some water. What I did intend was to get myself a glass of milk, because for some damn reason, every time this happened the first thing I craved was milk. 
 
 I opened the fridge to oblige my craving, and then quickly shut it, my eyes drawn to the large red circle on the calendar. Inside it was the text `` HALO 2 LAUNCH!'' and instinctively I knew, as I always did when faced with the root that lead to my death, that this was the link. 
 
 `` Seriously?'' I more exclaimed than asked to no one in particular. `` No more Halo?'' How this was connected to my future death, I could not fathom, but there had to be a pattern. I needed to get to the library. 
 
 After guzzling the milk, I slipped into the laundry room for a sweater, then grabbed the keys by the door and headed outside. The sight of a brand new Ford Mustang parked in the drive gave me a roller coaster of emotions. 
 
 First, I got pissed, because I had just bought this car five months ago and then last month the new, and way fucking cooler looking, body style came out. 
 
 Then I smiled and had a good laugh at the memories of all the great shit happened in that car. Happens in this car, actually. Or not, I ca n't remember. That's why I need the library. 
 
 Or, more precisely, that's why I need Mr. Coles, the Librarian. An actual Librarian, too, not one of those people putting books back on the shelf or collecting fees and processing the books you check in and out. 
 
 Mr. Coles did n't know what I was. Shit, I do n't even know what I am. But Mr. Coles did know something was different about me, I was pretty sure. He said he could see it, which I found odd since he was blind. 
 
 I know, a blind Librarian. Do n't think I did n't have a good laugh about it the first few times we ran into each other. 
 
 The first time we met was when I had lived to be fifty. I died from lung cancer and went all the way back to when I was ten. My friend Elizabeth and I had snuck out back of the Library during a field trip, and she dared me to smoke a cigarette he had taken from his older brother. Well, that time I said no, and went back inside - and ran into Mr. Coles, who asked me to go with him. 
 
 I'm pretty sure I thought my parents would find out I ditched a field trip and almost smoked a cigarette, and that my life would end. Instead, that's pretty much where it really began. He's helped me keep track of my lives ever since, and while I suspect he knows more than he let's on about me, I've never pressed him. 
 
 Arriving at the library, I threw the car into park and made my way inside, and towards the back of the library to a door labeled `` Library Staff Only.'' Knowing that Mr. Coles would support my unauthorized presence, I took the liberty of pushing it aside and walking back towards Mr. Cole's office. 
 
 I knew something was n't right the moment I saw his office door was closed. Mr. Coles took his open door policy very literally, and I had never arrived seen it closed. Sensing no danger, not that I was Spider-man or anything, I approached and knocked softly. Not fully secured, the door popped loose and then slid open with an eerie silence. 
 
 Inside, the office was exactly as it always had been - empty, except for a desk with a phone, a chair at that desk, and a bookshelf lined with books in braille. A blind man places an entirely different kind of value on material things. 
 
 Not exactly as it always had been, I realized. My book, the book Mr. Coles kept secure for me, was sitting closed on his desk. I flipped the light and then slipped in, closing the door behind me. 
 
 When I say this is my book, I mean it. This is the story of my lives, more or less. Today was November 9th, 2004. I flipped through the pages until I came to 2004, then November, and finally to today. The page was empty, as expected. I looked around for a pen, but of course Mr. Coles was blind, and so no pen was to be found. I'd have to add the Halo 2 bit later. Seriously though, Halo 2, of all things? 
 
 After updating the entry for the day, the first thing I always did was look to tomorrow. There I saw, in my own handwriting, an entry that said, `` Marcus will propose today, which will lead to your death on May 7th, 2005, during your Bachelorette party when a drunk Elizabeth drives you home and runs a red light, killing both of you.'' 
 
 Well, shit. Tomorrow was going to suck, apparently, but at least I now remembered why things ended between Marcus and I. 
 
 I flipped forward, and there were no more entries for three years, until one that read, `` Darren wants to get a puppy, which will lead to your death on March 12th, 2009, when the dog trips you and you fall down the stairs and break your neck.'' 
 
 Three years was the longest stretch I'd ever had, but all that meant to me was that the timeline was ripe for something deadly to happen. I'd probably have lost count of how many times that happened by now, but the very last page of the book contained a tally, which I flipped to. In doing so, a folded piece of paper fell from the pages to land on the desk. 
 
 I picked it up, and opened it to see a typed note. 
 
 `` Omega.'' 
 

