Loop 663,108,512. Whatever torture is keeping me in this hell is also keeping me aware of the exact count. Sarah met my eyes blissfully again, as she always fucking does. I last calculated the time when I hit 650,000,000 Six thousand, one hundred, and eighty-three years. I have seen her precious, loving eyes open 288 times a day, every day, for longer than the time between when my torture started and when Man first built the pyramids.
I killed her the first time on loop 34,160,917. I'd fluxuated between emotions so many times in the three and a quarter centuries since it started, I'd screamed in rage and even beaten her, but 34,160,917 was the first time I'd slid the kitchen knife through her ribs. There's no magic making me know that number like there is what loop I'm on. I just don't forget.
The kids took longer. I told myself I'd hold out for loop 100 million. I could bear nine hundred and fifty-one years of seeing my beloved children, holding them, embracing them, hearing Becca tell me she loves me. The laughs grate your ears open when you've heard them millions of times. The way Jackson flips himself out of bed boils your blood when you've watched him do it more often than you blinked your eyes in your life before. I made it to loop 79,418,820. Near the end I told myself to hold off for at least 80 million. By the time I made it to 100 mil, I had stopped caring.
Now myself, that's a whole different story. I can safely say I have killed myself in every possible way my home permits in five minutes. My first one was on loop 4,000. Two weeks of the same happy morning, knowing full well it didn't matter what I did, and I jumped off the roof. I didn't die immediately, and I had to watch Sarah run screaming over to me near the end. These days I've gotten a lot better; I have jumped out of every window in my house and off of every elevated surface, and have perfected what I think resemble Olympic dives that always end with a perfect neck-snapping landing. I have cut every blood vessel in my body at least once. I know the exact timing of the two vehicles that will drive past the street in time. I have set myself on fire in dozens of ways, and have forced myself on Sarah while on fire at least ten times.
I don't know what is keeping me here, or what it wants, or if my wife and children are here with me or just imitations. I don't know if it will ever end. All I know is that sometimes, about two or three times every million loops, I'll be making breakfast peacefully and Sarah will see the knife in my hand and scream the same scream she makes when I cut her neck with it.