And Adam began to drown again.
And again.
And again.
Between cycles, consciousness flickered. Brief moments of clarity where he stood in the cell, body rigid, mind screaming. But these respites lasted mere seconds before the loop reclaimed him.
Then, just as the drowning became almost routine—just as his mind began to build defenses—the scene shifted.
A bedroom. His bedroom. The one he'd shared with Elise before the divorce.
'No. Not this. Anything but this.' He screamed hysterically as his mind's defenses had already become weak from the cycles.
He stood in the hallway, home early from deployment. The sounds from the bedroom were unmistakable. His footsteps silent on the carpet as he approached.
The door swung open under his hand.
Elise. Thomas. His wife. His brother.
Their expressions when they saw him—shock, horror, then something worse: pity.
"Adam..." Elise remained in position. "We didn't—you weren't supposed to be home for two more weeks."
