Avery opens her eyes. She lies on her side on a hard tiled floor, jolting upright, sitting in a shallow pool of her own sweat. She pulls up her sleeve, brushes sweat off her brow, and pulls herself up with a nearby counter. The room is a disarrayed kitchen. The cabinet doors lie split in two on the floor. Pots, pans, and various other kitchenware cover the cracked tiled floor, and a man lies bleeding out on the opposite side of the counter. Avery turns herself around, facing down a long dark hall, with peeling wallpapers and creaky tiled floors. She stumbles down the hall, brushing her hand against the wall. At the end of the hallway, there is a room from which thin rays of light cast themselves at the wall. Avery steps into this carpeted room and collapses down on the nearby couch. Her vision is still blurry. To her right rests the open window, letting in the blinding morning light. In the armchair across the room, Flynt sits before her.

  “Flynt… What’s up?”

  “You woke up later than I thought you would.”

  Avery jerks back, and she glances about the room before settling her gaze on Flynt once more.

  “Shit, okay. I didn’t expect you to talk.”

  Flynt glances around the room.

  “Uh, how long was I asleep, exactly?”

  “I woke up a few hours before you.”

  Avery presses her palms up to the side of her head. The room falls silent for a minute.

  “Sorry.”

  Avery stares at Flynt across the table.

  “What–”

  “I tried to kill you. That wasn’t very cool of me.”

  Avery chuckles.

  “I know, I know. Fuck you, by the way.”

  Avery grins and leans forward. Flynt stays still.

  “Jack wasn’t lying about that loop shit, either. That shit really reset.”

  “I don’t buy it.”

  “What? What are you talking about?”

  Flynt shoves his hands into his pocket, tearing out a few items, and placing them on the table before them: Braellyn’s switchblade, the top of a shattered bottle, and a matchbox.

  “Wait, you’re keeping broken glass in your fucking pocket?”

  “That’s not the point. I still have all of my stuff.”

  “Oh, yeah. That is weird… But also, neither of us are dying, so it worked somewhat, you know?”

  Flynt nods, and he stares at her from across the room. Avery pauses for a moment.

  “So… Do you want to go get Jack back?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Word. Okay, so I have a bit of a plan.”

  Flynt fidgets with his sleeves.

  “Alright… If we head up to Jack’s place right now, we can probably get there before Deagon, and we can keep Jack away from everybody. Damn, I am so smart!”

  Flynt shrugs.

  “I like that plan.”

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  “Oh, really? I was just making shit up. But, yeah, let’s do that!”

  Avery leans forward, holding her arm straight over the low coffee table at the center of the room. She curls her hand into a fist, and she holds it in front of Flynt for a moment. He stares about the room until he sighs, leans forth himself, and gives Avery a fist-bump.

  “Hell yeah… Good shit. Anyway, what do you think about Deagon?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Yeah, I think it’s best to just leave his ass alone. Play it safe, you know?”

  “I think he has good intentions.”

  “Oh. Alright, then...”

  Avery springs up out of her chair. Her face goes flat.

  “I’m sure as hell getting tired of all this death, though.”

  Avery treads over the bristly carpeting, the strands nearly splintering under their rigid forms. She crouches down to face a nightstand just next to Flynt’s arm chair before throwing open its drawers, one after the other, and rummaging through them. Flynt cranks a lever on the side of the chair, pulling up a leg rest. He leans back and stares at the ceiling.

  “I only joined a gang in the first place so I could kill you guys. For what it’s worth, I don’t want you to die anymore.”

  Avery moves on to a nearby china cabinet, stashing whatever change she finds into her pockets, tearing through its many drawers.

  “Well, shit! I’m glad we got that sorted…”

  Flynt closes his eyes and relaxes in his seat. Avery paces back through the living room, back into the dark hallway one room over. The sound of clicking metal resonates throughout the room, followed by the low pop of the front door snapping open. Deagon slides through that door, into the front hall, his shaved head nearly brushing against the popcorn ceiling.

  Deagon shakes his head, making his way into the kitchen. He drags a skinny wooden chair from beside the disheveled kitchen counter, scraping the wooden floor with it before leaving it in front of the doorway. Deagon falls down into the chair, staring at the floor.

  “Deagon… What the fuck are you doing?”

  “It’s over.”

  “What the hell are you talking about? The reset worked, didn’t it?”

  Deagon grunts, jolting his gaze up toward Avery.

  “You remember?!”

  “Uh… Yeah.”

  “Fuck. It’s over.”

  Avery glances about the hall, her brow furrowed.

  “I stopped by Jack’s house a couple of hours ago. He remembered everything too.”

  “No shit! Everybody remembered the thing that happened yesterday. What a fucking shocker that is!”

  “Can you shut your damn trap for five damn minutes?!”

  Deagon’s eyes widen, his brow furrows, and his body tenses up. He stands up for a moment. Suddenly, he relaxes and sits back down. Deagon takes a deep breath.

  “You never remember. Jack never remembers. Flynt never remembers. I don’t understand what the fuck is happening.”

  Deagon scratches his head. Avery raises her hand.

  “Ooh! You know who else has no idea what the fuck is going on?!”

  “Yeah, I get it. I came by to tell y’all we’re done. You don’t work for me anymore. Stay out of this shit.”

  Avery pauses, raising an eyebrow.

  “Seriously?! Are you stupid? Where’s Jack?”

  “He’s not there. Jack left already. He’s on a bit of a fucking crusade. He left a note behind, telling me he’s gonna fix everything. They’re gonna kill that dumbass. He’s going after my boss, Godfrey–”

  “Alright, he’s going for Godfrey. That’s all I wanted. I don’t care anymore.”

  Avery turns around, pacing down the hall for a moment, veering into the living room.

  “You impudent shit!”

  Deagon bolts upright, following behind her. Flynt slides out of the armchair, and he follows Avery down the hall.

  Avery chuckles, turns around, and paces toward the kitchen in long strides. Flynt stops in the middle of the hall, glances between the two, and he follows Avery through the kitchen. She makes her way around the central island of the kitchen, dodging pots and pans strewn about, as well as shattered glassware and ceramic, on her way to the back of the room. Avery pulls open the well decorated back door of the house, with its tinted glass window and the translucent curtain attached to it. Avery raises her arm to block out the sunlight as she steps down the concrete back steps into a narrow strip of grass making its way past several similarly disordered houses. Just as Avery turns to walk around the house, a fierce grunt echoes from out of the building, followed by the slamming of boots on wood. Before Avery can react to the sound, Deagon lunges through the back door, tackling Avery to the ground.