Electra’s POV

I wanted to believe I was stuck in a nightmare. No, I needed to believe it, because the alternative—that this insanity was actually happening—was too much to handle.

I had been here before, in Seraphina’s room, having the exact same conversation, storming out for the exact same reason, and running into the exact same people over and over, like some twisted time loop that refused to let me escape.

The first time it repeated, I thought I was imagining things. Maybe I was tired. Maybe the trauma of everything that had happened recently had finally gotten to me, and my brain was playing tricks on me, but by the second and third time? There was no denying it.

This was real, or at least, as real as my messed-up reality could get.

The third time I woke up back in Seraphina’s room—again—I knew something was horribly wrong. My stomach churned as I sat up, only to find Seraphina already awake and staring at me with that same confused and innocent look she had when she was about to bring up her new favorite topic: “understanding each other.”

“Electra,” she began, her voice soft. “I think we need to talk about—”

“No!” I cut her off, louder than I intended. My hands flew up to my temples, pressing against my skull as if I could squeeze out the headache that had been building since this nightmare started. “No, we do not need to talk about anything, Seraphina.”

Her brows furrowed. “Why are you shouting? I’m just trying to—”

“Stop!” I snapped, standing up so abruptly that I nearly tripped over the edge of the bed. “We’ve had this conversation already. Twice. Maybe even three times. I don’t even know anymore, but I am not doing it again.”

She blinked, startled, but instead of arguing back like she usually would, she tilted her head and studied me like I was some kind of science experiment. “What are you talking about? What do you mean we’ve had this conversation already?”

I let out a bitter laugh, the sound sharp and humorless. “Exactly what I said, Seraphina. This. All of this.” I gestured wildly around the room, at the bed, at her. “This stupid conversation about ‘understanding each other’—we’ve had it before. You told me about getting locked up by your stepmom, who’s also your aunt, and after that, I storm out. I run into Yuna and Yura. Ashleigh tells me someone’s looking for me, and then, somehow, I’m back here. Every single time.”

Her eyes narrowed, her confusion deepening. “Electra… are you okay? You’re not making any sense.”

“No, I’m not okay!” I shouted, throwing my hands up in frustration. “Nothing makes sense! I’m stuck in some kind of loop, and every time I think I’ve escaped, I end up right back here with you!”

For a moment, she just stared at me, her expression unreadable. Then, slowly, she stood up from the bed and crossed her arms over her chest. “Alright,” she said carefully, like she was trying to calm down a wild animal. “Let’s say I believe you. You’re saying that… time is repeating itself? And you’re the only one who knows?”

“Yes!” I said, relieved that she was at least trying to understand. “Everything keeps happening the exact same way, down to the smallest detail. It’s like I’m stuck in a nightmare I can’t wake up from.”

She was quiet for a moment, her gaze flickering to the window as if she was deep in thought. “If what you’re saying is true,” she said slowly, “then maybe this is happening for a reason. Maybe there’s something you’re supposed to do differently to break the loop.”

I scoffed. “Oh, great. So now it’s a magical life lesson? Is that it? The universe wants me to ‘learn something,’ so it’s punishing me with an endless cycle of misery?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know, but if everything is repeating, there has to be a reason for it. Maybe… maybe it has to do with me.”

My laugh was sharp and bitter. “Of course it does. Everything always comes back to you, doesn’t it?”

She glared at me, her patience wearing thin. “Do you want my help or not, Electra? Because if you don’t, then feel free to storm out again and let the cycle repeat. I’m just trying to figure out what’s going on.”

I opened my mouth to snap at her, but the words died on my tongue. As much as I hated to admit it, she had a point. If I didn’t figure out what was causing this, I’d be stuck in this loop forever, and as much as I despised the topic she was trying to get me to delve into, I knew I had no choice but to listen to her.

After all, she was the only person who was going to believe me—or at least, entertain the possibility that I wasn’t completely insane.

“Fine,” I muttered, crossing my arms over my chest. “What do you think we should do?”

She raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised that I was actually listening to her. “Well,” she said after a moment, “if this is a loop, then maybe the answer lies in breaking the pattern. You said everything happens the same way every time, right? So maybe… we do something different.”

I frowned. “Like what?”

“How about…” She hesitated, biting her lip as she thought. “Just for starters, how about you don’t storm out of here, and instead, let’s have that conversation that keeps making you storm out?”

As soon as I heard her suggestion, I couldn’t help it—my body moved before my mind could catch up, and I threw Seraphina a look so fierce that it might as well have been a slap to the face.

The mere idea that she wanted us to somehow “trauma bond” over our twisted childhoods—both involving parents who found it entertaining or convenient to lock us away—made my skin crawl.

Who did she think I was? Did she honestly believe that sharing a few grim stories would somehow fix everything that was wrong with our lives?

“Yeah, right,” I hissed, my voice dripping with sarcasm and anger. “You think I’m going to sit here and hold hands with you while we talk about how our parents locked us up? No way in hell, Seraphina. No way.”

I saw her flinch, the harshness of my response registering in her eyes. For a brief second, guilt flickered through me, but I shoved it aside.

I wasn’t going to let myself feel bad for telling her the truth. Because that’s what it was: the truth. This was never going to happen. Not with me, not with her, not with anyone.

Without waiting for her response, I turned on my heel and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind me with enough force to rattle the frame.

My blood boiled as I marched down the hallway, fuming so much over Seraphina’s relentless attempt to make us “trauma bond” over our screwed-up childhoods. It wasn’t happening.

There was no way I was going to sit down and hold hands with her while we exchanged horror stories like it was some kind of therapy session.

Then I heard Yuna’s voice calling my name again. For a split second, I froze. My instincts screamed at me to keep walking, to avoid yet another rerun of the same conversation that had been driving me insane. But instead of stopping or engaging, I clenched my fists, ignored her completely, and spun on my heel, heading straight back to Seraphina’s room.

This had to stop once and for all, and if that meant testing Seraphina’s ridiculous theory about doing something different to break the loop, so be it.

When I re-entered the room, Seraphina was standing at the edge of her bed, her back to me. She turned around the moment the door creaked open, her brows furrowing in confusion. “Electra? What are you—”

I cut her off with a sharp gesture. “Shut up. Just… let me talk.”

Her confusion deepened, but she stayed silent, watching me warily as I walked further into the room. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, my palms slick with sweat as I tried to summon the courage to say what I was about to say.

This wasn’t like me. I didn’t share things—especially not this.

But if Seraphina’s theory was right, and saying something different was the key to breaking this loop, then I had no choice.

Taking a deep breath, I blurted out the words before I could stop myself: “When I was younger, and up until very recently in my life, Queen Jella used to sexually abuse me.”

The room fell into a heavy silence, and Seraphina’s face went pale, her eyes wide with shock and horror as she took a step back, like my words had physically struck her.

“What?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

I clenched my jaw, my nails digging into my palms as I tried to keep my emotions in check. “You heard me,” I said bitterly. “You wanted to understand me, right? Well, there you go. That’s my truth. That’s the kind of crap I’ve had to deal with my whole life, and now you know. Congratulations.”

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