“Yes, I’ll make sure they're alright, of course. But… where are you going? I don’t even know your name or how you know the girls!” Harrison protested.

  “Did you have to deal with this every time?” Margaret asked. “That must be exhausting.” I ignored her and responded to Harrison.

  “I know. I’m sorry for just dumping this in your lap and I’m sorry I can’t say more right now. I’ll try and explain… as much as I can soon,” I promised. Harrison rubbed the back of his neck as we rejoined the girls, still dutifully sitting with their dead mother. He watched them closely before sighing.

  “And they won’t leave her?” He asked. I shook my head.

  “I… don’t think they can,” I answered. Harrison examined them and their dedicated attention to the quiet corpse.

  “Why not?” He asked. He took a few steps forward and kneeled in front of the girls. “Hey, Junie, you remember me, right? Do you want to come with us and get a little rest?” Junia emphatically shook her head.

  “Sorry mister Harry! Momma said to stay with her, and we don’t want to make her any more angry! But…” she paused, looking guiltily at the stony face of her mother, “we’ll eat with you, if you bring something to us. I mean, if you wanted to.”

  Harrison’s glassy eyes passed over Junia’s hopeful face like a paintbrush, until he forced a comforting smile onto his face. “Of course. I’ll see if I can get some porridge made for you, if you like,” he offered. Again Junia glanced at her mother, afraid of rebuke. When none came she nodded happily.

  “I think Millie would really like that,” she agreed. Harrison smiled with his eyes closed and ruffled Junia’s hair with one hand. Then he stood and returned to me on his way to the girl’s pantry.

  “Alright,” he agreed. “I’ll keep an eye on them. But… I need you to understand what’s going on. I understand you aren’t staying, but. Come back. Explain what is happening, and let me help. Alright?” I nodded.

  “Thank you,” I said. “You’re a good man.”

  “That’a a very strange thing to say and believe about a stranger,” he complained, ribbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

  “But it’s not a strange thing to say about you. I'll be back soon,” I promised.

  “If you say so,” he grumbled. With little left to say, he went about making a more substantial meal for the girls and I finally turned to leave. Margaret waited until we were further separated from living ears before speaking again.

  “You really care about them, don’t you?” she asked. I nodded softly as I walked.

  “I love all three of them,” I answered.

  “But you just met them. They don’t even know who you are. How do you build a lasting connection over three days they always forget?” she asked. I flexed my fingers a bit as I walked, turning the question over in my mind. I’d grown to fear and hate Margaret over those same days. And I’d grown to understand and identify with her at the same time. Just because someone doesn’t remember you, that doesn’t mean the effect they had on you disappears.

  But that wasn’t the best answer for the question she was asking. “I think, perhaps, that’s why,” I answered. “You understand. When you are… like us. Friendships don’t come easily. But for the first few days of meeting someone kind, it’s always easiest to hope. I’ve been living in those first few days this entire time.” She seemed to understand this answer, and didn’t press further. Or perhaps she wanted to chew on the concept a little. It did carry an implication about the number of times she’d hurt me, and that may have silenced her as well. So we walked for a few moments in silence.

  The graveyard wasn’t far, though, and we were remarkably close before the conversation could pick up again. I turned to tell her to wait where she was, but as I did she was… gone. This was unsettling, but not worrying. I stood in the open and silent air, considering the implication for a long moment. I was fairly certain I had sent her away. In a sense, it was confirmation that she was a result of my magic, even if I didn’t realize how I had done it. I had turned to suggest she stay away, and away she was. I was in control of the magic on some level. This offered me emotions like a fever dream.

  Relief. The woman who hurt me so many times was gone, at least for a moment. And if she came back, I’d know I had the power to send her away again. I would be safe, even while she was there. I needed that safety. But it replaced the different relief she carried with her. Of being believed. Of being understood without being dismissed. I couldn’t have both at once. And, truth be told, I wanted to want her around. Not just so I wouldn’t be alone. But because if I didn’t… if she looked me in the eyes and offered regret but I still hated her… how could I hope for better from the woman I’d tried to kill?

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  I shuddered, and shook my head. Margaret was gone, and that was what mattered. So I continued walking, returning to the graveyard I’d fled only hours before. Margaret’s grave was as I’d left it, half obscured and forgotten by the world around it. But hers wasn’t the grave I was looking for. Because she was right. If Margaret’s grave was in this spot, then her mother’s wasn’t. It wasn’t the most important thing I needed to learn about this loop, but that didn’t mean it didn’t matter. However mixed my feelings about Margaret were, she deserved to know what happened to Melody. I wanted to know myself, actually.

  The original history I had seen, of Melody’s death in front of Margaret… it haunted me. And if anything else had happened, that meant changing something that far back was possible. So I searched. The headstones next to Margaret’s lacked names I recognized, which seemed to imply a wildly different history. Had mother and daughter died the same night, they’d surely have plots near each other. Some names were too faded to read. Others were too regularly visited and I knew they were wrong before even reading the name. And I began to hope. Because Margaret's was the grave keeper’s family. They lived next to the cemetery. They should have been buried together regardless, even if the older daughter was the only one left to say anything about it.

  “Are you looking for someone?” A woman asked as I was kneeling to clean off the other half of Margaret’s head stone. I’d begun to wonder if they were sharing a single plot, but the interruption prevented further investigation. And the question was answered as soon as I turned to see the speaker. She was much older, but much livelier at the same time. My heart began to beat with enough urgency to hurt. It was a sensation nearly unique to directionless panic. Because it was, of course, Margaret's mother.

  I steadied myself on the grave in front of me, inspiring a raised eyebrow from the older woman. I awkwardly pushed myself back up to my feet and struggled to narrow my too wide eyes. A futile effort, as her focus was entirely on her daughter’s neglected grave. “I thought–” I stopped, choking on my words before I could get them out. I had to close my eyes tight and refocus before I could answer her properly. “I… I was looking for you, actually,” I finally responded. Her second eyebrow joined the first, both climbing her scalp even further.

  “Well, you won’t find me there,” she responded with just a hint of amusement. I couldn’t respond right away. I was struggling to catch up with the reality I was looking at.

  “I’d heard you were sick. Too sick to survive. I thought you were…” I trailed off as she tilted her head at me.

  “I suppose I was but… you couldn’t have been more than a girl at the time. I can’t imagine anyone who knew about that wouldn’t also know what happened next. But, you can color me curious, I suppose. Why were you looking for a stranger you believed to be dead?” She asked, crossing her arms. I had no idea how to answer that, so I simply kept pressing.

  “How did you survive?” I asked. She gave me an almost amused look of confusion, then shrugged.

  “Aethon’s Grace can often come as a surprise. Come with me, I’ll show you,” she responded easily. I didn’t move as she turned, and she had to look over her shoulder to see if I was following. “Come along now, I was on my way anyway. An extra face won’t hurt, and I’ll admit I find you interesting. Walk with me, and you’ll understand when we arrive,” she pushed.

  I wasn’t sure if following her was a good idea. But my head was spinning. It had been a few hours since I’d confronted Margaret and her hoard of the dead. I’d discovered a changed timeline, a new involuntary spell, an even more insidious change in Beddenmor, and spoken to two dead women from the same family. I’d had clues about the Quiet I’d wanted to follow before, but so much had changed I was struggling to remember what they were. Just seeing how the loop was different would have been the first step regardless, and seeing while speaking to this woman was as good a method as any.

  So I followed. “I didn’t catch your name,” Melody said as I caught up with her. I bit my lip but nodded.

  “Um, I’m Mars,” I answered.

  “Mars? Isn’t that a man’s name? Are you not as feminine as I assumed?” she asked, not a hint of mockery in her voice. I looked down at my feet as I followed her.

  “N–No, nothing like that. It’s a nickname. My sister’s idea, I guess. It just… stuck,” I answered awkwardly.

  “Oh? So not your real name, then?” She pressed. “So what is?” I shook my head.

  “No, it’s my name. Just… I’m Mars,” I insisted firmly.

  “You must really love that sister of yours,” she smiled. I nodded.

  “Not as much as I should have,” I whispered, too low for her to hear.

  “That’s good. If my brother had half your loyalty my life would have been very different,” she lamented, clearly missing my self-admonishment. She kept the idle conversation up for a while and I did my best to engage while following her. But I also wanted to pay attention to the town around me. Something was strange. Something had changed from both the first day and the first loop. But I couldn’t put my finger on what. Worse than that, I recognized the route we were following.

  “Are we going to the garden?” I suddenly asked. Worry about what she wanted to show me started biting at my skin like an angry insect.

  “Oh, do you know it?” she asked, looking over her shoulder again.

  “Isn’t it blocked off?” I replied with my own question. It hadn’t been when Margaret was using the Quieted as weapons, but now? They had to keep the Quieted somewhere.

  “Oh yes, and for good reason,” Melody agreed. “But they’ll let us in. That’s why we meet there. Luke says it’s good to be reminded. To be aware.” Again my heart started to speed up. I was starting to feel sick. I didn’t know who Luke was, but I knew what I’d find in that garden. Bodies. Discarded and abandoned. Empty and broken. Hidden from a scared town. And she had some kind of meeting there? I didn’t know what it was, but something was horribly, horribly wrong. And I was terrified to find out what on my own.

  I needed to bring Margaret back again.