ARIA'S POV
Her hand closes around my wrist.
Ice shoots through my veins—not cold, but WRONG. Like my blood is being replaced with something dead.
"Get OFF her!" Damien lunges forward, but the bloody version of me moves faster than humanly possible. She yanks me into the alley, away from him.
"Finally," she whispers in my voice. "Do you know how long I've waited? Ten years of being DEAD, trapped in that timeline, watching you waste my life."
"You're not me," I gasp, trying to pull away. Her grip is impossibly strong.
"I'm the FIRST you. The original Aria who died on that stage." Her smile is wrong—too wide, too hungry. "When you died and got sent back, you created a door. A way for me to crawl out of death."
My mind reels. "That's impossible—"
"Is it? You've seen three versions of yourself. You've watched time split and merge. Why is THIS so hard to believe?" She pulls me closer, and I see her eyes are completely black. No white, no color. Just endless dark. "I've been possessing the other versions, learning their memories, their choices. And now I have enough pieces to take over completely."
"Damien!" I scream. "HELP!"
But when I look back, Damien is frozen mid-step. The entire street is frozen—people stuck mid-walk, cars stopped mid-drive. Even the rain hangs suspended in the air.
"Time stops when versions collide," she explains. "We exist outside the normal flow right now. Just you and me and the choice you have to make."
"What choice?"
"Give me your body willingly, or I take it anyway. If you cooperate, I'll let you fade peacefully. If you fight—" Her free hand touches my face, and pain explodes through my skull. "I'll tear your consciousness apart piece by piece and wear your screaming soul like a coat."
Tears stream down my face. "Why are you doing this?"
"Because I DIED at thirty-two with nothing! No fame, no love, no legacy! Just wasted years and stolen songs and a fall through a rotten stage!" Her voice cracks with rage. "But you—you got a second chance. You got to come back young, with all the knowledge, all the advantages. That should have been MY gift! MY redemption!"
"So you've been sabotaging me?" Understanding crashes over me. "Kyle's video, Vivian's contract, the police investigation—that was all YOU?"
"I've been living through the other versions, yes. Setting traps. Making sure no matter which path you choose, you end up here—desperate, broken, and MINE." She grins. "And it worked. You came running right to me."
My phone is still in my pocket. If I can just reach it—
"Don't bother," she says, reading my thoughts. "Your little boyfriend Damien can't save you. The timeline won't let him interfere when versions merge. It's just us."
"He's not my boyfriend."
"Not yet. But I've seen the timeline where you fall for him. Where he falls for you. Where you get everything I never had." Her black eyes burn with jealousy. "That's the version I'm going to live. I'm going to take your body, win that audition, become a star. And Damien Cross will fall in love with me—thinking I'm you—and never know the difference."
Horror fills me. "He'll figure it out—"
"Will he? I have all your memories now. Every secret, every fear, every dream. I AM you, Aria. Just the version that's willing to do ANYTHING to succeed."
She starts pulling me closer, and I feel it—my consciousness being dragged OUT of my body. Like I'm being peeled away from myself.
"No!" I scream. "NO! This is MY second chance!"
"You already wasted your first life!" she snarls. "You don't deserve another one!"
My vision blurs. I can feel myself fading, just like when Damien's hand passed through me. I'm becoming transparent, becoming nothing—
A voice cuts through the frozen air: "She's not alone, you know."
The third Aria—the one from Vivian's car—steps into the alley. But her eyes aren't black. They're normal. Terrified. Human.
"Who the hell are you?" the dead version hisses.
"I'm the version that gave up. That sold the songs and ran away." The third Aria's voice shakes. "I'm the coward who let Vivian win. But I've been watching you hunt her, and I realized something."
"What?"
"You're not the original Aria. You're what KILLED her." The third Aria pulls out a small recorder. "I found this in Kyle's studio. The REAL memory of what happened ten years from now—or ten years ago, depending on how you count."
She presses play.
Aria's voice—MY voice—comes through the speaker: "Kyle, please! The stage is breaking! Help me!"
Kyle's voice: "Sorry, babe. But Vivian paid me a lot of money to make sure you have an 'accident.' Nothing personal."
Then a woman's laughter. Cold. Familiar.
The dead version of me freezes.
"That's right," the third Aria says. "You're not the original Aria who died. You're the THING that was waiting under that stage. The entity that Kyle and Vivian summoned to possess her body after she fell. They made a deal with you—you get a life, they get her songs and her talent."
"Shut UP—"
"But the deal went wrong, didn't it? You couldn't fully possess a living body. So you had to wait until she died. Except when she got sent back in time, you got pulled along. Trapped. Waiting for another chance."
The bloody version's face twists into something inhuman. "LIES!"
"Then why do you have black eyes?" the third Aria challenges. "Why does touching you feel like death? The real Aria—all three versions of her—are HUMAN. You're something else."
I stare at the thing holding my wrist. "What are you?"
It smiles, and its teeth are too sharp. "Does it matter? In thirty seconds, I'll be wearing your skin and nobody will ever know."
"Except me," says a fourth voice.
We all turn.
Standing at the alley entrance is another figure. Another me. But this one is older—maybe thirty—dressed in clothes I've never owned.
"Who—" I start.
"I'm the version who succeeded," she says calmly. "The timeline where you made every right choice, where you became famous, where you and Damien fell in love. I'm the FUTURE you're supposed to have."
The dead thing hisses. "Impossible. The timeline hasn't chosen—"
"Yes it has." Future me smiles. "The moment Aria decided to fight instead of give up, the timeline chose HER. You're the glitch. The error. The thing that shouldn't exist."
She pulls out a small device—it looks like Damien's temporal scanner.
"This will erase you from all timelines. You'll never have existed. No possession, no second chances. Just gone."
The thing's grip on my wrist tightens painfully. "If I go, I'm taking her with me!"
"No," says the third Aria—the coward version. She grabs the thing's other arm. "You're taking ME. I already gave up. I already chose wrong. Let her live the life I was too scared to fight for."
"NO!" I shout. "Don't sacrifice yourself—"
But she just smiles sadly. "Someone has to make the right choice, Aria. Might as well be me."
Future me activates the device.
The thing screams—a sound that's not human, not animal, something from nightmares. It tries to hold onto me, but the third Aria pulls it away, wrapping her arms around it in a bear hug.
"GO!" she yells at me. "Get to that audition! SING!"
Light explodes from the device. The thing and the third Aria start dissolving—both of them, turning to ash and smoke.
"Thank you," I whisper to my other self.
She winks. "Make it count."
Then she's gone. They're both gone.
Time snaps back into motion.
Damien stumbles forward, gasping. "Aria! What—where did—"
I grab his arm. "No time! The audition—how long do we have?"
He checks his watch. "Fifteen minutes. But you're covered in—" He stops, staring at me.
I look down. The blood is gone. My clothes are clean. It's like the last ten minutes never happened.
"The timeline corrected itself," I breathe. "I'm the only version left."
Future me is still standing there, watching with a knowing smile.
"You can see her?" I ask Damien.
"See who?"
He can't. Only I can see my future self.
She mouths three words: "Trust Damien Cross."
Then she fades away too.
I'm alone. The real Aria. The only Aria.
"Come on," Damien says, pulling me toward a car. "I'll drive you. You still have a chance."
We run.
But as we reach the car, my phone buzzes one last time.
A message from Kyle: "Congrats on surviving. See you at the audition. Oh, and Aria? I have the REAL Vivian Chen tied up in my studio. The one you've been seeing around town? That's not your stepsister. That's something wearing her face. Just like that thing was wearing yours. Sweet dreams."
Below it, a photo.
Vivian—REAL Vivian—bound and gagged, terror in her eyes.
And standing behind her, smiling at the camera, is Kyle.
Except Kyle's eyes are BLACK.
Just like the thing that tried to steal my body.
"Oh god," I whisper. "There's more than one."