[ WP ] You wake up only to find out you have gone back in time 1 year . The date is Dec 21st , 2015 . You alone know what 2016 has in store for the world and you alone have been chosen to change it for the better ... or worse .

To think one punch could break everything. That single blow devastated me and left a wound that would only fester. When she was on the floor, hand clutching a limp jaw and blood dribbling across pale skin, I knew I'd fucked up. I promised her that it would never happen again. But when she looks at me now, her eyes scream fear, and I know I'm the bad guy. 
 
 -- -- 
 
 The next day, I wake up, December 2015. The days go by like forgotten streams on a photo reel. Happy smiles, tears, eat-ins and take outs, until we're back where we started, where I made the mistake. 
 
 The rug in front of my apartment lounge suite is still clean. The walls still have their glow and the computer's hooked to the TV screen, just like it had been last time. 
 
 Then comes the knock, three oppressive thuds on a frail door frame. I shimmy, slide, flick the lock and slide back the wood. She's there, dangling locks, crop top and black skirt. Eyes meet for an instant, she's cool calm collected, reflecting my own, and I wave her in with a smile. Her gaze lights up like I've flicked the switch and one, two, three steps later she's on the couch with my laptop in hand. Exactly like it happened *then*. 
 
 `` Long day?'' She clicks on her favourite show and watches the TV buffer. 
 
 `` Tiring.'' I say. 
 
 Matter of fact I was sitting here, on this couch. Wondering if I would be an idiot two times in a row. Second chances worked sometimes -- hopefully. 
 
 She smiles and my whole world warms. It's like a drug and god dammit I'm addicted. `` Well, come on then, blankie time?'' She pats the seat next to her twice. 
 
 I snap open the blanket cupboard and nearly pick the same one, cool blue and supple fur. Brown seems better this time, it's a duvet more than a blanket -- no one cares. `` How was your day?'' I ask in return. 
 
 She shifts her head side to side. `` It was alright... there's been a lot on my mind...'' 
 
 My heads doing the agreeing, but my eyes take in every second of this moment. The way her maroon lips move, her hand gestures, the shiver of her hair. I still do n't understand how I could hurt something so innocent, that trusts me this much. `` You've got a plan?'' I say. She's like that. 
 
 `` Sort of,'' she says. The smile on her lips tell me not to worry. 
 
 The blanket goes over and she's snuggled up as The Mentalist plays on the TV screen. We get cozy and press up, find each other's feet in the warmth of our improvised tent. 
 
 She presses pause on the laptop. `` We need to talk.'' 
 
 This is the fuzzy part, in fact, it's where things went wrong last time. I try to keep my head above the clouds. `` Talk about?'' 
 
 There's a gap between us. It was n't there before. This is bad. 
 
 `` Just promise not to get mad...'' 
 
 Really bad. The guilty always start out with unfulfillable promises. 
 
 `` Fine.'' It's all I can manage. 
 
 Her hands go through her hair, locks dangle toward touching knees, and then she covers her face. I sit in the silence with The Mentalist staring at me. He's trying to tell me to think this time, that I'm here for a reason. The last six months went by in a flash and I've lived every hug, kiss, and hand holding moment over again. 
 
 She sniffs. `` There's something I've done and... you never caused it, this was just my own... stupidity.'' 
 
 It's coming to me now, it's not something I want to hear twice. I stand up and walk to the door. But she does n't let me. 
 
 `` Tim, I've slept with someone else.'' 
 
 There it is. Hearing it the second time changes nothing. The hairs on the back of my neck go up, my mind goes dark, and knuckles are blazing white. I rotate, meet her gaze full of fear, and step forward. 
 
 She puts a hand up like I'm going to punch her from this far away. 
 
 It's still there, how doing it made me feel last time. It's worse than the regret that her words surfaced. Worse than the twisted knot in my chest that caused the ache in my throat and the heat behind my eyes. There were only so many options when it came to fulfilling a broken heart. Revenge is the simplest one. 
 
 `` I'm sorry,'' she says. 
 
 I want to kill her. 
 
 But the door is still there. 
 
 It had been a faded memory last time, her only escape. This time it was mine. There were enough broken hearts in the world, and plenty more broken people. 
 
 The hallway outside stoked whatever flames had been blazing before. `` I want you gone by the time I'm back.'' 
 
 Her tears softened my resolve. `` Please...'' 
 
 That path led to pain, hate, distrust. `` Twenty minutes.'' There were always other roads. 
 
 
 
 
 

