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Bela knew it was coming.
Bela knew that she was coming.
Two years had passed, and it wouldn’t be long now. It was always two years, to the date. It didn’t matter how far she ran away with you or where she hid. Without fail, as the leaves began to turn color, Bela would be catapulted backwards in time, stripped of her precious memories and her heart.
All because of her.
The cruelest irony of it all though was that the amnesia was temporary.
As inevitable as it was for Bela to be sent back, it was equally inevitable that it would all come back to her. The catalyst for her memories returning was always you.
She’d see you somewhere on campus. Maybe in Daniela’s dorm, maybe at Cassandra’s play, or maybe even at the activity fair at the start of the semester. Once she saw you, like water from a leaky faucet, the memories would dribble back into her brain bit by bit.
By the time she reclaimed her heart, the swelling emotions from those countless experiences flooded her mind each and every time. She remembered what you couldn’t. She remembered the brief, yet meaningful, lives that you lived together. She remembered it all.
Her mind was filled with every time loop that she spent with you. Every tender moment that you shared together across a myriad of temporalities that no longer existed. All the paths you wandered together, arriving at countless destinations. Every sunset and sunrise. The homes you built together in multiple countries. The sleepless nights and lazy mornings spent wrapped around each other. The children you had together, the joys of watching you be such an amazing parent.
Those memories all reside in Bela’s heart and brain, lurching from one timeline to the next. By this point, she’s lost count of how many cumulative years she’s spent with you. It had become difficult to keep track. The human brain is not meant to hold so many memories, especially given the lack of continuity. At a certain point the time loops all blur into a mélange, each one distinct yet inseparable from the rest.
Amidst the warmth of each time loop was a cold, bitter end. Like a budding flower ripped from its soil, the foundations of the lives that you built together were eviscerated all because of her.
Miranda.
No matter what you or Bela did, you couldn’t escape her. It didn’t matter how many times you chose Bela over Miranda, the cult leader was unwavering in her resolve. Every two years, she’d wipe the slate clean. Sometimes in person, sometimes from afar.
Bela knew that she was coming.
So, Bela relished the evening she had with you. She made a fantastic dinner for your little family. She listened with unwavering attention as you told her about your day at work, drinking in every little detail. She watched from the doorway of the living room as you played with your daughter, letting her play surgeon and you the sickly patient.
Once your daughter was tucked away for the night, Bela took you to the bedroom to be a little selfish with you before Miranda arrived. She does her best to keep her emotions in check, not wanting to spoil the lovely evening prematurely. No need to get sentimental when giving you the strap, after all.
While she enjoyed making love with you, there was the added benefit that the reset was easier when you were already asleep.
Bela lived through enough time loops to know that looking you in the eyes as Miranda wiped the slate clean only made the subsequent time loop all the worse when she finally remembered.
At 11:30 PM, an all too familiar knock comes from downstairs.
After delicately slipping away from your slumbering form, Bela descends to the inevitable. She no longer feels dread, not anymore. Hell, she doesn’t even feel frustration. She's ready. Once more she will go.
Still though, she musters a glare as she pulls open the door to reveal Miranda. She refuses to give the crow bitch any sense of satisfaction. It is likely pointless, as Miranda looks bored regardless of how Bela presents herself.
Now is no different. Miranda looks the same as she always did. Her pale face is set into a neutral expression, her arms crossed over her chest. And like with every time loop before, Miranda says the same thing, “Your time’s up.”
“Do you ever get tired of repeating yourself?” Bela feels déjà vu wash over her. By this point, the sensation is familiar rather than disconcerting.
“I could ask you the same thing,” Miranda replies, her tone even. Bela expects that to be it, for her to snap her fingers and for everything to go back to how it was. But then, something happens that's never happened before. Miranda says, “Let’s have a chat.”
Bela blinks once before recovering her composure, “Fine.”
Miranda lifts her gaze over Bela’s shoulder, a silent request for entry.
Bela steps forward instead, shutting the door behind her. “You don’t get to come into my home.” Even if this would all be immaterial in a matter of minutes, Bela won't allow her to taint this home that she’d built with you.
If Miranda is offended, she doesn't show it, only stepping back to rest along the porch’s cast iron railing. “You know you can’t win this, right?” She asks, getting right to the heart of the matter. No need to beat around the bush, after all. In some morbid way, Bela begrudgingly acknowledges that she and Miranda are bound to the same experiences. It's the natural result of sharing a time loop with someone.
Miranda's sentiment isn’t surprising, but the connotation amuses Bela a little. She can’t help but smirk, breathing out an amused huff. “You act like I’m the one with agency here. She’s the one who keeps picking me and not you.”
The words hit their mark. Miranda stiffens, her jaw clenching and brows knitting together. “Don’t be coy. You carry the same memories as I do.”
“And? Should I pretend that I don’t love her when my memories return? Should I push her straight into your arms?” Bela’s words are dripping with acid, indignation coiling itself in her gut. She refuses to let Miranda browbeat her on this. Even if they are bound by the same experiences, both women have arrived at vastly different conclusions.
Miranda doesn’t bother answering either question. Instead, she asks, “Do you know why I let you have these two years?”
“Is it your magnanimity and generosity?” The sarcasm sticks to Bela’s words like glue.
Miranda’s eyes narrow, nail guards biting into the pale flesh of her forearms. “Such a charming wit. I wonder if your child has inherited your silver tongue? Such a shame that none of us will ever find out.”
Like lightning moving across water, Bela has Miranda’s dress in her hands and is hoisting the priestess off the ground. If there’s one thing that digs into Bela like a rose's thorns, it is the memory of the children that you’ve had together. Every time her heart returns with those memories, equal parts of love and grief pierce her soul. Every time loop, the grief compounds. Every time loop, Bela finds space for it.
Miranda doesn’t react, she glares back at Bela with equal amounts of vitriol and loathing. “I give you these two years to let you experience what you’ll never get to have. I hope that each time, it will teach you an adequate lesson. That you can rid yourself of this pain if you let go of her,” She speaks, as if Bela is not moments away from caving in her skull—though it’d do little good. She already tried that countless loops ago.
Either way, Bela isn’t surprised by the reasoning. She knows that Miranda is nothing if not patient. These two years are meant to twist the dagger. To let Bela feel some sense of peace, just to rip it away in an instant. Over, and over, and over again. All until she finally breaks. All until the weight is too much to bear. All until her psyche crumples under the accumulation of timelines.
There’s just one issue with this…
“How many times have we done this?” Bela asks, releasing Miranda and taking a step back.
That issue being that Bela is really fucking stubborn.
Miranda parts her lips to answer, probably with something aimed at demoralizing Bela. She doesn’t get the chance as Bela’s lips curl into an easy smile, her face inches away from Miranda’s.
“You should know by now, that I won’t break.”
Miranda rolls her eyes. It isn’t the first time she’s heard that declaration. She doesn’t believe Bela. She also doesn’t believe that there’s a small part of her that’s nervous that Bela’s telling the truth.
“You say that now—”
“And I’ll say it forever! We will keep having these conversations until our minds become so burdened with memories that neither of us can function. I don’t care if it ends in the heat death of the universe first. I may lose, but I swear on every past iteration of myself that you’ve erased, you will not win.” The beautiful thing about staring down at the inevitable end is that it allows Bela to become a little unhinged. All those bottled-up emotions can flow. In a strange way, this is one of the best outlets she has to release the pressure.
Miranda snarls, refusing to budge an inch, ever the prideful headmistress. “You are denying what is bound to happen! Your petty pride prevents you from seeing the bigger picture!” Miranda speaks through gritted teeth, a trickle of sweat slipping down her forehead. “I control all the pieces! I control the board, and I can flip it whenever I want, as many times as I want!”
“Pride?” The word is almost drowned out by a choked laugh in the back of Bela’s throat. She can feel herself beginning to unravel. But she isn’t losing her composure, no. She’s revealing the truth that resides in a heart that she’ll lose in a matter of minutes.
“It isn’t pride, you psycho bitch. It’s love. I. Love. Her!” Each syllable is brimming with a frenetic zeal.
“You do not!” Miranda roars, flipping the tables by grabbing Bela by the shoulders, metal digging into her skin.
Although words are burning Bela’s tongue like a curse, she doesn’t use them. Instead, she tips her head back, and then smashes it forward. Miranda is sent reeling, blood fountaining from a now-broken nose.
Before she can double-over in pain, Bela yanks on her platinum locks, hauling Miranda up to face her despite the crimson pouring from her nostrils. “I love her more than you ever will! I love every iteration of her! I love every child we have had together, every home we have built! And you want to know what else?”
Bela presses her face to Miranda’s, some of the blood rubbing off onto her. Her cerulean spheres are alight with a manic gleam, a wild grin splitting her features. “I will love every version of her in every future time loop. I will love the two years we get to have. I will love it all until you finally learn your lesson.”
Miranda would never admit it, at least not to herself. But for the briefest of moments, a sliver of fear knifes along the length of her heart. In the corner of her soul, she entertains the smallest chance that she has misjudged the depths of Bela’s conviction. That, perhaps, the weight of the past has not wrecked Bela, but molded her into something frightening. After all, to be broken and to be changed are two sides of the same coin.
Who is stuck in a timeline with who?
Bela lets go of Miranda, who stumbles from the abrupt release. Silence stretches on between the bleeding priestess and the unwavering heretic.
Bela’s smile slowly dies as she reins in her fervor. The words she speaks are slow and even but laced with dedication. “These time loops haven’t broken me, Miranda. They have given me an infinite number of reasons to keep going.”
Miranda’s scowl is one that Bela is sure she will fondly remember in the coming time loop.
“Be careful. As the old saying goes, a fanatic is someone who redoubles their efforts while losing sight of their goals.”
The words give Bela pause for a moment. Not because they unnerve her, but because they reinforce the fact that Miranda fails to see the irony. Despite the shared experiences of each time loop, Miranda will never truly understand. Bela hasn't lost sight of her goals at all. If anything, her path forward is as clear as ever, even if that path is circular.
Instead of bothering with a response, she looks back to the house that you built together. Inside, your child is asleep, tired from playing with you. Meanwhile, you’re probably stirring from your rest, wondering where Bela has gone.
Bela feels bitter tears burning the corner of her eyes.
She will come back to you. Just not in this reality.
And then, in a moment, it all goes blank.