A Life That Never Ends
She was four years old again.
Not reborn. Just rewound.
Thrown back into a new hell, another nightmare twisted just enough to make it different—but never better.
She had died hundreds of times.
Not once. Not twice. Over and over and over again.
And each time, something worse replaced the last.
Sold. Beaten. Starved. Drowned. Burned.
Never a second chance—just another fate waiting to tear her apart in a new way.
She had lived sixteen years of agony crammed into broken childhoods.
And that was it.
Sixteen years. Over and over.
Her body changed, reset—but her mind never aged past sixteen.
She had learned one thing—there was no way out.
So maybe if she jumped—maybe this time, it would end.
TF141 had seen her die.
Had watched as fire consumed her, had heard the screams they couldn’t stop, had buried the guilt of failing her even though they had never understood what had truly happened.
So when they saw her again, even smaller, even younger—on her way to jump once more—
They refused to let it happen again.
Price moved first, stepping into her path before she could reach the ledge.
She recognized him immediately—eyes narrowing, breath catching, something sharp flickering behind her gaze.
She remembered them.
She just didn’t know they remembered her too.
Soap’s voice was quiet, cautious. "Where the hell do you think you’re going, kid?"
Ghost crossed his arms, watching carefully. "You already tried this once."
She stiffened at that—just barely.
Then, with a quiet breath, steady, almost eerily calm—she shook her head.
"You're mistaken."
Ghost’s expression didn’t change. "We saw you."
She shook her head again, firmer this time, forcing herself not to react.
"You have the wrong person."
Gaz stepped forward, eyes narrowing. "We saw you die. We saw the fire. The screams. And now you're standing here again."
Her hands curled into small fists at her sides, but her face stayed blank.
"No one remembers." Her voice was steady, factual. "That’s the rule."
Soap muttered under his breath. "What kind of rule is that?"
Price’s voice was sharp now. "Who makes the rules?"
Her stomach turned, fingers twitching, but she didn’t let it show.
This wasn’t supposed to happen.
They weren’t supposed to remember. No one ever remembered.
And now—they did.
She breathed in carefully.
And for the first time, TF141 had more questions than answers.