My entire family was slaughtered on the night of my 21st birthday. Two escaped convicts broke into our home and brutally tortured and murdered them right in front of my eyes. I barely survived, but I was left permanently paralyzed. I lost my entire family, lost my full-ride scholarship for grad school, and spent the next twelve years confined to a wheelchair, accompanied only by a catheter bag. I lived a miserable, agonizing existence for twelve years with only one goal: to find the killers and get revenge. But those two monsters vanished into thin air, leaving no trace behind. I thought I would die in agony, carrying this massive regret to my grave. But when I opened my eyes again, I was reborn. I was reborn exactly five minutes before the killers knocked on our door. 1 I will never, ever forget the day I turned 21. October 28th, 7:00 PM. A massive thunderstorm was raging outside. But inside our apartment, everything was warm and cozy. Under the soft yellow light, my whole family was gathered to celebrate my birthday, wishing me a smooth and happy year ahead. In the living room, my dad was putting the candles on my birthday cake. My mom was in the kitchen, cooking the very last dish for my birthday dinner. My pregnant sister was sitting next to me, handing me a brand-new iPad. She said it was my present. I was holding the shiny new iPad, trying to figure out how to set it up, when I suddenly heard a knock on the door. My sister asked casually, "Who is it?" "Food delivery. Someone ordered a birthday cake for you." My sister looked at the cake already on the table and teased me. "Ooh, look at our little sister moving up in the world! Someone besides Dad ordered a cake for you." "Who's the sweet guy?" "Spill it. Do you have a secret boyfriend you aren't telling us about?" I shook my head, denying it. I told her I was still a student and definitely didn't have a boyfriend. But deep down, I couldn't help but feel a little excited. A lot of people knew it was my birthday today, but could the cake really be from the guy I was thinking about? I happily got up to open the door. But I never expected that opening that door would become the inescapable nightmare of the rest of my life. The people standing outside weren't delivery drivers. They were two vicious, bloodthirsty killers. The moment I opened the door, a heavy hammer smashed directly into my head. To stop me from running, the second guy swung a hatchet right into my lower spine. My dad grabbed a fruit knife and charged at them, but his throat was slashed by a much longer blade. Blood sprayed everywhere. My sister screamed and ran over to pull us away, but one of the killers grabbed her by the hair, laughing maniacally, and dragged her away. My mom ran out of the kitchen with a meat cleaver, trying to protect us, but the other killer buried his hatchet halfway into her skull. The overwhelming grief and the dizzying effect of massive blood loss swallowed me whole. I blacked out. It wasn't until the next day, when a neighbor saw blood seeping out from under our door and called the police, that the massacre was finally discovered. My parents died on the spot. And my sister... she suffered unimaginable agony before she died. Her eight-month-old baby was cut right out of her stomach while she was still alive. I miraculously survived. But the price was permanent paralysis and the loss of everyone I ever loved. 3 The memories brought me excruciating pain. God knows how much I regretted opening that door during those twelve agonizing years I survived. Even though I knew that even if I hadn't opened the door, they would have found a way to break in. But that thought trapped me like a demon, torturing me every single day. Making me wish I was dead. Thank god, I was reborn. I was reborn exactly five minutes before it all happened. Standing in the living room, I couldn't stop shivering violently. "Chloe, this iPad is for you. Happy birthday, sweetie." "I can't believe my little sister is so smart, getting a full-ride to grad school! We have two huge things to celebrate today!" My sister's gentle voice made my heart ache. This was the voice I dreamed of hearing every single night for the past twelve years. I couldn't hold back anymore. I threw my arms around her and hugged her tight. "Sis, I missed you so much." My sister was startled. "We just saw each other yesterday. What's there to miss?" My dad, who had just finished putting the candles on the cake, chuckled at the scene. "Chloe, you're turning 21 today, why are you still acting like such a baby?" My heart gave a violent throb. To them, it had only been a day. But to me, it had been a long, grueling twelve years. I desperately swallowed the overwhelming emotions surging inside me, forced myself to calm down, picked up my phone, and immediately dialed 911. "Hello? 601 Maple Street, Apartment 5B. There are two escaped convicts armed with deadly weapons standing right outside our door. Please get here as fast as you can." The dispatcher said they would send officers immediately. But because the storm outside was so severe, it would take them at least fifteen minutes to arrive. Until then, they told us absolutely do not open the door and to do whatever we needed to protect ourselves. When I hung up, my dad and sister were staring at me in shock. I didn't have time to explain everything. I just said, "I just saw on the news that two convicts broke out of the state penitentiary, and they're roaming our neighborhood. So no matter who knocks on the door, we cannot open it." Hearing this, my sister looked at me hesitantly. But my dad immediately grabbed his heavy baseball bat from by the front door. "Don't worry. They're just a couple of thugs. Even if they really show up, your old man can easily take them down." My dad's unconditional trust moved me to tears. But the men outside that door were absolute monsters who killed without blinking an eye. Given a second chance at life, I absolutely could not let my family fall into danger again. I immediately deadbolted the front door. Then, my dad and I worked together to push the heavy TV console to barricade the door. Just as we were about to wedge the console against the door, I suddenly realized something was terribly wrong. We were making so much noise in the living room... why hadn't my mom come out of the kitchen? And... since a few minutes ago. Other than the hum of the exhaust fan, there was no sound of cooking coming from the kitchen. I stopped what I was doing and looked toward the kitchen. And I saw a scene that made my blood run cold. A man with a mouth full of rotting yellow teeth was holding a long knife to my mom's throat, forcing her to walk out of the kitchen. So there were actually three of them. And one of them had been hiding inside our apartment the entire time. No wonder these escaped convicts accurately targeted our specific apartment in my previous life. Someone had been giving them intel from the inside. Seeing us staring at him, the man offered a wicked, yellow-toothed grin. "Didn't expect you to find me. This is no fun." With that, he sliced the knife across my mom's throat. Bright red blood sprayed across the floor. My dad's eyes turned bloodshot. He raised his baseball bat and charged at the man to fight him to the death. But just as he got close... Bang! A bullet pierced straight through my dad's forehead. He collapsed heavily onto the floor. He actually had a gun. Before my sister and I could even react, the next second, a hatchet smashed through the front door. The other two killers broke in. I grabbed my sister's hand, desperately trying to pull her toward the bedroom to hide. But the killers' blades were faster than us. The man with the yellow teeth drove a knife straight through my sister's pregnant belly. The next second, he ripped out her placenta and her intestines. I grabbed a fruit knife, screaming like a madwoman, charging at him to protect my sister. Thud— The heavy iron hammer smashed into my head again. Police sirens wailed outside, but I was dead again. My mom, my dad, and my sister were dead too. 4 Our whole family lived in an old, run-down apartment complex. My parents ran a small breakfast cart selling steamed buns to raise me and my sister. They were incredibly hardworking and never complained. They woke up before 3:00 AM every single day to knead dough and steam buns. They were kind and generous. Whenever they saw a lonely elderly person or a disabled homeless person, they would give them free breakfast. They always said that once my sister and I had steady jobs and were married, they would finally retire. They planned to sell this cramped old apartment and move back to their rural hometown to live out their days. My sister and I had been secretly planning that once I got my grad school acceptance letter and she had her baby... We were going to take our parents on a trip to the ocean. They had worked themselves to the bone their entire lives and had never even left this city. My grad school acceptance was basically a done deal. The official letter would be arriving very soon. My sister and I had saved up almost enough money for the trip. But why... why, even though I was reborn... We still couldn't escape our violent deaths? Consumed by endless bitterness and regret, I closed my eyes. When I opened them again, I was back in the living room. 5 The phantom pain from the heavy hammer smashing into my skull still lingered in my body. I couldn't help but hug myself, gasping for air in pure terror. My sister was standing next to me, looking worried. "Chloe, what's wrong?" "Are you feeling sick?" I followed her voice and looked at her, then at the brand-new iPad in her hands. Then at my dad, who was sitting nearby, putting candles on the cake. Then I ran to the kitchen and saw my mom standing perfectly fine, stir-frying vegetables. I immediately grabbed my phone and checked the time. July 28th, 7:00 PM. I finally realized I had been reborn again. I clenched my fists tightly, forcing myself to calm down. I had to figure out how to break this loop. There was a killer with a gun hiding somewhere inside our apartment. And in five minutes, two more killers armed with deadly weapons would break in. The only way to break this cycle was to take out the killer hiding inside our apartment first. My mom, my dad, my sister, and me. Four against one. We should have a very good chance. So the most important thing right now was to find him. Without alerting him and tipping him off. This time, I didn't call 911. Instead, I used the text-to-911 service. After sending the text, I typed another message into my notes app. [Nobody make a sound. There is an escaped convict armed with a weapon hiding inside our apartment right now. We are going to find him.] My sister still looked a little hesitant. But seeing my dead-serious expression, she cooperatively kept her mouth shut. Just like the first time, my dad immediately grabbed his baseball bat from the front door and stood next to me. To avoid alerting the killer, we didn't disturb my mom in the kitchen just yet. My dad and I, now armed with a heavy meat cleaver, quietly walked toward the balcony. The apartment complex we lived in was very old. The balconies weren't enclosed with glass. And we lived on the second floor. It would be incredibly easy for someone outside to climb up the exterior wall and onto our balcony. This killer very likely broke in through the balcony. The balcony connected to a small bathroom and a guest bedroom. I carefully opened the bathroom door. It was completely empty. My dad pushed open the door to the guest bedroom. There were no signs anyone had been in there, either. He wasn't in either of those places. So where was he hiding? "Pfft!" In the dead-silent apartment, someone suddenly let out a suppressed laugh. My entire body shuddered. I spun around and saw the man with the rotting yellow teeth pushing open the door to the small storage closet right next to the bathroom. So that's where he was hiding. "Were you looking for me? Congratulations, you found me." Pure instinct took over. I raised the meat cleaver and swung it at him. But his long knife was faster. He sliced it straight across my throat. My dad tried to save me, but the gun in the man's hand fired, putting a bullet right between my dad's eyes. I died again. I heard the sound of the front door being smashed open with a hatchet. And then the desperate, agonizing screams of my mom and sister. Fate seemed to be telling me that no matter how hard I struggled, we could not escape our destined deaths. But I refused to believe it. If God let me live this moment over and over again... There had to be a way.
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