10 Minutes to Die: The Locked-Room Loop

Every time the clock hits 11:10 PM, I am brutally slaughtered in my apartment. And every time, I gasp awake ten minutes earlier to fight for my life. The deadbolts are secure. The windows are sealed. Outside my door, nothing but silence. Yet, the killer strikes precisely on time. Who is watching me from the dark?

——

"Gideon!"

"Turn off your damn stereo!"

I stood in the second-floor hallway, viciously kicking the peeling wooden door.

The deafening bass vibrated through the soles of my feet, completely snapping what little remained of my nerves, which were already frayed from rushing a deadline.

The door jerked open. Gideon stood there in a grease-stained tank top, a half-empty beer bottle dangling from his hand.

He was a hulking, short-tempered middle-aged man who had bought this run-down apartment building to collect rent after getting out of the military.

"Nora, it's only ten-fifty at night!"

"I have the right to listen to music in my own house!"

He breathed a gust of stale beer into my face, his eyes full of impatience.

"I'm your tenant, not your prisoner!"

"I have a deadline first thing tomorrow morning. If you don't turn off that damn heavy metal, I'm calling the cops!"

I glared back at him without yielding an inch, my fingers clutching tightly at the hem of my pajamas.

Gideon sneered. He didn't argue, just slammed the door heavily in my face.

The throbbing bass abruptly stopped, and the hallway returned to a dead silence.

I let out a long breath, rubbed my throbbing temples, and turned to climb the steep wooden staircase back to my top-floor apartment.

The room was a mess. An easel, scattered sketches, and empty coffee mugs took up most of the space.

In the corner, my black cat, Barnaby, was curled up on the massive, burgundy vintage velvet couch I’d scored for fifty bucks at a flea market.

I walked over to my desk and glanced at the time in the bottom right corner of my computer screen.

11:00.

Right then, the screen of my phone, resting next to my drawing tablet, lit up.

It was a text message from an unknown number.

[Nora.]

[At 11:10, you will die.]

I froze for a second, then let out a cold scoff.

Gideon, you childish bastard. Was this really how he was going to get back at me?

I picked up my phone and rapidly typed out a reply:

[Your prank sucks, Gideon.]

[Send one more piece of garbage like this, and I really will call the cops.]

Message failed to send.

I frowned and glanced at the top left corner of the screen—No Service.

Cell reception on the top floor of this old building had always been spotty, but it rarely dropped out completely.

"Meow—"

Barnaby suddenly let out a sharp cry.

He jumped down from the couch, his fur standing perfectly on end, his spine arched into a defensive, dangerous curve.

His eyes were locked dead-center on a shadowy corner of the room.

"What is it, Barnaby?"

I walked over, reaching out to soothe him.

The seconds ticked by.

The room was so quiet that the only sound was the ticking of the second hand on the wall clock.

An inexplicable sense of dread began to crawl through my chest.

The air suddenly felt thick. Mixed in with the familiar scent of turpentine was a strange, faint metallic smell of... rust.

I glanced at my phone.

11:09.

"Knock it off, Gideon. I know you have a spare key."

I forced some courage into my voice and shouted at the empty room.

No response.

Barnaby let out another bloodcurdling yowl, and this time, he shot straight under the bed.

My entire body stiffened, the blood suddenly freezing in my veins.

Because a terrifying realization had just hit me—the deadbolt was locked from the inside, and the security chain was perfectly intact.

If Gideon had come in, the locks wouldn't be completely untouched.

So who was in the room?

I whipped around.

A hand clad in black leather shot out from my blind spot and clamped violently over my mouth.

In the same breath, an incredibly icy sensation dragged across my throat.

It was an agonizing pain, too fast to even process. My windpipe was severed in an instant, and blood spewed out like a fountain, splattering across my easel.

I never even saw the intruder's face before my body crashed heavily to the floor.

My vision rapidly blurred, a harsh ringing in my ears drowning out everything else.

A split second before I was swallowed by absolute darkness, my eyes landed on the time on my computer screen.

11:10.