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Tree’s eyes snap open, her lungs seizing on a sharp, ragged gasp as her hands claw frantically at the sheets. The fluorescent light of the dorm room stings her vision, every nerve ending buzzing with the familiar, sickening terror of another reset. She is back in his bed, back at the agonizing start of the same horrific day, trapped forever in a nightmare that refuses to die.
"Hey, hey—woah, easy. You're okay," Carter says, his voice a soft, grounding anchor against the rising tide of her panic. He leans over from his desk, eyes wide with genuine concern, holding up his phone to show her the screen. "Look. It’s September 19th. It’s Wednesday. You made it, Tree. It’s over."
She stares at the glowing numbers, her pulse hammering against her ribs until the reality finally sinks in. The loop is broken. The suffocating weight of endless deaths instantly evaporates, leaving her so overwhelmed with relief that the impulse to yell at him for scaring her completely dissolves. Instead, she reaches out, grabs the collar of his worn t-shirt, and pulls him down into a deep, desperate kiss. Carter catches his breath in surprise before melting into it, his hands gently framing her face, tethering her to the present, to safety, to a tomorrow that is finally real.
When they pull apart, the room settles into a quiet, heavy stillness. Tree slumps back against the pillows, tracing the grain of the wood paneling on the wall just to feel something solid. Carter remains close, sitting on the edge of the mattress, his usual relaxed demeanor replaced by a hesitant, lingering curiosity. He quietens for a moment, staring down at his folded hands before turning his gaze back to her, his expression uncharacteristically grave.
"Tree... can I ask you something?" Carter hesitates, searching her face for any sign of fragility before continuing in a low, careful tone. "When you... were gone. When you died. Is there a Beyond? Is there actually something on the other side?"
Tree stays silent, her breath catching in her throat as the question hangs cold in the air.
"Does it bring peace, or is it just... pain?" Carter pushes softly, his voice trembling slightly with the weight of his own existential dread. "Should it be something we dread, or something people are secretly searching for? Or maybe... maybe it's just something you need to be warned about. About whatever lurks in that dangerous place of Other."
Tree lets out a breath that feels less like air and more like a quiet unraveling. The question lands heavy in the quiet room—expected, given the surreal nightmare she just crawled out of, yet entirely unexpected coming from Carter, whose soft eyes hold none of the cynical bite of the world outside his door. How does she explain living the exact same day over and over, trapped in a sick, cosmic meat grinder where every exit ends in blood? It is sinful in its repetition, a gut-wrenching torture that stripped her down to nothing, yet in this moment, looking at him, it feels like everything—the brutal catalyst that finally brought her here.
She tilts her chin up, bridging the small space between them to press her lips to his once more. It isn't the urgent, desperate grab from seconds ago; this kiss is slow, lingering, and bruised with the bitter flavor of a dozen phantom deaths. She gives him just a taste—a ghost of the cold, dark weight she carried—before gently pushing back against his chest.
"I will tell you," Tree whispers, her voice raspy but steady, grounding herself in the quiet warmth of his room. "I'll tell you every single horrifying, weird detail. But not now, and definitely not on an empty stomach. Feed me first, Carter. Then we talk about the void."