Chapter 1
November in Los Angeles was always dreary, just like my shattered heart in this moment.
I curled up in this cramped, rundown 30-square-meter apartment, the hideous scar on my arm throbbing beneath my thin long sleeves. Eight years had passed, yet it had never healed. Just like my heart.
"It's that day again..." I gazed at Grandma Helen's photo on the wall, my voice hoarse as if scraped by sandpaper. "Grandma, I'm still that same coward."
November 23rd, 2025. Eight whole years.
I closed my eyes, and that hellish night instantly consumed me—
November 23rd, 2017, 10:47 PM.
I walked home alone along Melrose Avenue, my backpack filled with chocolate chip cookie ingredients I'd just bought. At school today, I'd heard classmates talking about preparing gifts for family members for Thanksgiving, and suddenly I wanted to make something special for Grandma with my own hands.
Though I wasn't good at baking, I wanted to try that secret recipe Grandma had taught me—the one made with love.
The night before Thanksgiving in Los Angeles was especially lively. Music from celebration activities at the distant community center drifted through the air, mixed with the fragrance of osmanthus flowers. I quickened my pace along the dimly lit street, imagining how surprised Grandma would be when she saw the cookies I'd made myself.
Little did I know then that this would be the last night I'd ever see her.
As I passed the intersection near our apartment building, I noticed the streetlights were unusually dim. The area felt eerily quiet—most neighbors had gone to the charity event at the community center.
That's when I heard footsteps behind me.
I turned around, but saw nothing in the shadows. Quickening my pace, I felt someone grab me from behind just as I passed the narrow alley. A large hand clamped over my mouth.
"Don't scream." That voice froze my blood instantly.
Fletcher Thompson. Our landlord.
I struggled frantically as my backpack fell to the ground, textbooks scattering across the pavement. He dragged me toward the dark alley, toward an abandoned warehouse hidden behind the garbage bins.
"You little slut, don't think I don't know what you've been doing with that boy outside," Fletcher's breath was scorching and disgusting. "Since you're so desperate for a man, uncle will satisfy you."
I bit his hand with all my strength, earning a heavy slap across my face.
My cheek burned with pain, and the sound of my school uniform tearing echoed particularly sharp in the enclosed space of the warehouse.
I screamed desperately, but his palm completely muffled my voice. The rusty walls seemed to swallow every sound—no one would hear me in this soundproof hellhole.
Just as he was tearing at my skirt, I heard footsteps echoing from the alley entrance.
"Bailey? Bailey, where are you?" Grandma's voice!
Fletcher froze, panic flashing in his eyes.
I struggled desperately, trying to make a sound.
"Bailey said she'd be home by now," Grandma's voice grew closer. "This child, always making people worry. I heard voices from this direction..."
I saw Grandma's silhouette at the warehouse entrance, holding a flashlight as she searched the alley for me. The beam swept toward our hiding spot.
Fletcher cursed and pressed his hand harder against my mouth, continuing his assault in the darkness. I felt my soul tearing apart.
Finally, I bit my tongue and let out a heart-wrenching scream.
"Help! Grandma! Help me!"
Grandma's flashlight beam immediately found us through the partially open warehouse door.
"Bailey!" She rushed inside, using her frail body to ram into Fletcher. "Let go of my child!"
Fletcher shoved her away hard. Grandma fell heavily against the concrete wall, her head striking with a dull thud.
I saw blood seeping from beneath her snow-white hair.
"Grandma!" I lunged toward her like a madwoman.
Fletcher picked up my fallen fruit knife from the scattered contents of my backpack—the small knife I used to peel apples for Grandma.
"Since you've seen everything, don't blame me for being ruthless." The light in his eyes turned completely insane.
Grandma struggled to sit up, holding me with trembling hands.
"Bailey, don't be afraid... Grandma will protect you..."
Fletcher raised the knife, thrusting it toward us.
Grandma used her 67-year-old body to shield me. The blade pierced through her chest.
Blood instantly stained her lavender cardigan red.
"Grandma! No!" I screamed hysterically.
Fletcher pulled out the knife, preparing to strike again. I grabbed the handle, the blade slicing through my palm, leaving this scar on my arm that would never heal.
In the chaos, we fought for control in that cramped, abandoned warehouse. The knife slipped during our struggle and struck Grandma's neck.
Blood. Blood everywhere.
With her last strength, Grandma touched my face.
"Bailey... live on... for Grandma... live on..."
Her eyes gradually lost focus, her hand falling limply to the cold warehouse floor.
Police sirens finally wailed in the distance, but it was all too late.
I jolted awake, finding my face wet with tears. Eight years had passed, yet this nightmare tortured me every single day. PTSD, anxiety disorder, depression—I'd tried every treatment available, but could never forgive my own cowardice.
"It's all my fault..." I choked out. "If I hadn't come home so late, if I'd been braver, if I could have protected you..."
I couldn't go on like this anymore. I had to end this living hell.
Trembling, I walked to the bedroom and dragged out the cardboard box I hadn't dared touch for eight years—Grandma's belongings.
When I saw the storage device labeled "November 23rd, 2017 - Apartment Security Backup," my heart nearly stopped beating.
"Security footage..." I whispered to myself. "Grandma's final moments."
I plugged the device into my computer, my shaking finger hovering over the play button.
"I shouldn't watch this... but I have to. I owe Grandma an apology."
The screen displayed security footage from downstairs at the Melrose Apartment Building. The timestamp read: November 23rd, 2017, 3:47 PM.
In the footage, Grandma was distributing homemade chocolate chip cookies to the neighbors. She smiled so warmly, so tenderly.
"This is my family recipe. Cookies made with love are always the sweetest."
My tears burst forth like a broken dam. This was my grandma—even on the last day of her life, she was still spreading love and warmth in her own way.
"Grandma, I miss you so much..." I reached out, gently caressing her face on the screen. "I want to see you again, to tell you I love you, to tell you I'll protect you..."
That's when something strange happened.
The screen began emitting a blue glow, the image shaking violently. A powerful suction force surged from the screen, and I felt myself being dragged into a whirlpool.
"What is this?!" I stared in horror at my fingers—they were being absorbed into the screen!
No, not absorbed, but... penetrating! My fingertips were actually passing through the screen's surface, touching the world within the footage!
Intense dizziness overwhelmed me as the entire room began spinning. I felt my body being pulled by an irresistible force, falling toward the world inside the screen.
A strange buzzing filled my ears as the real world around me began to dissolve. One final clear thought flashed through my mind:
"If I could go back to that day... I would definitely save Grandma."
Then, everything faded to black.
"Thump—thump—thump—"
My heartbeat thundered in my ears like rolling thunder. I stood beneath the Melrose Apartment Building, my legs weak, barely able to stand. The dizzying sensation of being dragged through time still tormented me, and the entire world seemed to be spinning.
I looked down at myself—a 17-year-old body, familiar school uniform, backpack still slung over my shoulder. My phone screen displayed: November 23rd, 2017, 12:20 PM.
This was real... I had actually come back!
I tremblingly raised my hands, staring at my smooth, tender skin. The deep scar on my left arm had vanished, replaced by a young girl's delicate flesh.
"My God... this isn't a dream... I really traveled through time!"
