The Bell Keeps Bringing Me Back to Die

Zoe's POV

When the dismissal bell rings, the night resets.

I'm Zoe, a high school sophomore living on campus, isolated by my entire family and the whole school. My "crime"? I reported my own little brother for campus violence.

The first time, I died in the dark by the track. The second time, shut inside the equipment room. But every time I opened my eyes, I was dragged back to the exact same starting point. Only the number on my arm—the countdown of how many lives I had left—dropped by one.

The man in the black mask always seemed to know exactly where I’d run and where I’d hide. But what truly sent shivers down my spine was this: every single time, my mother stood just a few steps away, quietly watching me take my last breath.

Once the number hits zero, there is no coming back. What do I have to do to survive this night?

The moment the evening study hall bell stopped ringing, I grabbed my backpack and bolted out of the academic building.

"Zoe."

A cold, familiar voice echoed from the bottom of the porch steps.

I slammed on the brakes, my fingertips instantly turning ice-cold. My mother, Grace—the Dean of Students at this private high school—stood blocking my only path, her arms crossed.

"Mom?" I gripped my backpack straps, instinctively stepping back. "What are you doing here?"

"If you're thinking about going to the principal's office tomorrow morning to submit that real-name whistleblower report against your brother, Luke, I suggest you swallow that ridiculous idea right now." A flash of malice crossed Grace's eyes, her voice dropping to a low hiss. "Are you really going to send your own flesh and blood to juvie over some irrelevant freshman nerd?"

"Irrelevant? Luke kicked him so hard he broke two ribs! That’s a crime!" I glared back at her, refusing to yield an inch, though my stomach churned. "You're the Dean! Instead of disciplining him, you come here to threaten the star witness? Is this what you call protecting the family?"

"Shut up!"

Grace’s voice spiked, but she quickly scanned the crowd of boarding students pouring out of the classrooms.

Taking a deep breath, she instantly switched on her flawless, loving-mother facade.

"Listen, sweetheart. There are too many people in the hall; we shouldn't talk about this here. It's getting late, and the motion-sensor lights on the main path are down for maintenance. It’s too dangerous for you to walk alone."

Without waiting for an answer, she looped her arm through mine. Her slender fingers looked affectionate, but they dug into my skin like iron pincers.

"Let's take the path by the track. It's shorter. I'll walk you back to the dorm myself."

"I'm not taking the track! There aren't any security patrols over there tonight!"

Grace took a step forward, her grip tightening drastically. Her nails practically pierced my flesh. I violently tried to shake her off, but her strength was unnatural. She dragged and shoved me toward the chain-link gate leading to the athletic field.

"You don't get a choice tonight, Zoe. Your head isn't clear—the cold wind will do you some good!" She shoved me roughly onto the path leading to the track, stepping right behind me to block my retreat.

The lights vanished. The dead leaves crunched under our feet, a sickeningly crisp sound that made my scalp tingle.

"Do you really think the board of directors will protect a whistleblower who makes enemies everywhere?" Grace walked just behind my left shoulder, her tone stripped of any warmth. "You think you're delivering justice? You’re just betraying your own blood."

"Even if the whole school isolates me, I will never be complicit with you!" I marched forward without looking back, muscles coiled tight, my eyes locked on the faint glow of the dormitories dozens of yards ahead.

As long as I made it past the blind spot behind the bleachers, I’d be safe.

Suddenly, Grace stopped walking.

"Wait," she said, her voice piercing the dead silence of the dark.

"What now?" I spun around, anxious.

"I left my lounge keys behind." Instead of catching up, she took a step backward, fading into the pitch-black shadows.

"Mom, now is not the time to look for keys! Let's go ba—"

A heavy thud echoed from the woods, like something massive jumping down from the top of the bleachers.

A pungent smell assaulted my nose.

"Who's there?!" I scrambled backward in terror.

A towering shadow, almost six-foot-three and built like a raging beast, lunged out from the dead angle beneath the bleachers!

He wore a black ski mask. I couldn't see a single feature.

"Mom! Run! Help—"

Too late.

A massive, calloused hand clamped over my mouth from behind, shoving my scream back down my throat. His other hand grabbed my hair, yanking my entire body backward.

My back slammed violently into the gravel. The air was knocked from my lungs. The masked man pressed his knee into my chest, crushing any chance of resistance.

My fingers clawed desperately at his arm, but against absolute power, my fight was a joke.

In my peripheral vision, I saw the most terrifying sight of all—

My mother, Grace, stood less than thirty feet away at the edge of the shadows.

She didn't scream. She didn't call the police. She didn't even take a step forward. She just stood there, cold and indifferent as a phantom, spectating this one-sided slaughter.

"Mom..." I choked up a mouthful of blood, reaching my hand out to her in absolute despair.

The masked man didn't say a word. He raised his right arm. A serrated combat knife caught a sliver of pale moonlight.

No hesitation. No pause.

The blade sliced through my carotid artery with brutal precision.

Boiling blood sprayed out, splashing hot across my own face. Agony ripped through my nerves, my body convulsing like it was electrocuted, before the world plunged into total darkness.