Chapter 2
The internet was having a field day, spamming the chat with [Congratulations to Simon on his freedom] and [Sign it, Sadie, don't be a greedy bitch.]
Simon stared at me. His eyes were ice cold, laced with impatience.
It felt like every second I hesitated was a personal insult to his future.
I picked up the pen without a single second of doubt.
The physical pain made it hard to even breathe. I just wanted this circus to end.
Right as I was about to sign, I glanced up at him one last time.
He was gently wiping a tear from Alice's cheek, not even bothering to look my way.
I let out a dry, self-deprecating laugh and put pen to paper.
Sadie Brooks.
Writing those letters drained the absolute last ounce of energy I had left.
With the papers signed, we moved on to the show's main attraction. The "AI Time-Space Connection."
The producers claimed they used quantum tech to randomly bridge a live connection to a moment in the guests' lives exactly ten years ago.
Everyone knew it was a scripted gimmick. You hire a few actors, stage a tear-jerking reunion, and farm the audience for ratings.
The previous guys played along perfectly.
One magically connected to his younger self at college orientation, screaming a confession to a girl he had let slip away.
Another reached his teenage self gaming in an internet cafe, begging him to study hard and treat his high school girlfriend better.
It was all very heartfelt and remorseful. The live chat was a puddle of tears, mourning their own lost youth.
When it was my turn, I just sat there staring at the blank screen in total silence.
A decade ago, I was trapped in a dying rust-belt town, working three miserable jobs just to scrape together college tuition.
I didn't have any poetic regrets to make up for. My only regret was ever meeting Simon.
Seeing my lack of response, the host nervously tried to salvage the moment. "It looks like our Sadie had a perfectly fulfilling life ten years ago! No regrets to speak of."
The chat immediately went back on the offensive, accusing me of faking a deep persona for more screen time.
They demanded I get off the stage so they could see Simon and Alice.
I gave a nonchalant shrug and voluntarily passed my turn.
Finally, Simon was up.
He adjusted his suit jacket and strode to the center of the stage, radiating confidence.
He wrapped an arm around Alice and spoke clearly into the camera. "I want to connect to my younger self. I need to tell him to find Alice on day one.
"She's the one who saved his life. She is his only light."
Alice looked up at him, her eyes shining. The studio audience broke into thunderous applause.
Everyone was strapped in for an epic, decade-spanning declaration of true love.
Simon was ready for it, too.
He stared at the monitor with the proud, arrogant look of a man who had already won.
He wanted the whole world to know that he belonged only to Alice.
The massive screen flickered. A sharp buzz of static filled the room as the fuzzy image slowly pulled into focus.
However, the scene that materialized wasn't the sun-drenched prep school campus Simon anticipated. It wasn't the image of a confident, golden-boy teenager.
It was an abandoned warehouse.
The room was pitch black, coated in grime, and reeked of iron and coagulated blood.
A battered teenage boy was strapped tightly to a metal chair, blood dripping from his split lip.
It was Simon.
The cheering in the studio died instantly. Everyone froze in place.
The triumphant smile on Simon's face melted away.
He opened his mouth, probably to yell at the producers for pulling the wrong file.
But the boy on the screen suddenly jerked his head up. It was like he sensed something.
He didn't look at the camera.
Instead, he twisted toward the pitch-black shadows behind him, straining his throat to let out a desperate, agonizing scream. "Sadie! Leave me! Just run! Don't look back!"
The studio was dead silent.
Alice's sweet, camera-ready smile completely vanished.
My heart skipped a beat.
"This is impossible!" Simon lost his composure completely.
He lunged toward the monitor, his face flushed with a furious, ugly red. "Who wrote this script? Sadie, you set this up, didn't you?"
He spun around, glaring at me with bloodshot eyes. He looked like he wanted to tear me apart.
leaned back in my chair. The cramping in my stomach was so intense I didn't even have the energy to open my mouth.
I just stared at him and slowly shook my head.
Alice finally snapped out of her shock. She hurried over to Simon's side, delicately grabbing his arm to play the peacemaker.
"Simon, please calm down." she said. "This has to be a technical glitch. Or maybe... maybe Sadie paid off the crew to get some attention."
Her voice was soft, but pitched just loud enough for every single microphone to pick it up.
The live chat erupted like a powder keg.
[I told you Sadie was trash! Anything for fame, right?]