The ticking of the clock was the only sound in the room.
A slow, steady rhythm echoing through the silence like a heartbeat.
Ten students sat at their desks, motionless. Not a whisper, not a breath out of place. The air felt heavy, like the walls themselves were listening.
I stared at my hands. Pale. Still. Too still. The kind of still that didn't feel alive.
Something inside me had been clawing for days—an unease I couldn't name. It started as a whisper at the back of my mind, a quiet question that grew louder every second until I couldn't hold it in anymore.
I raised my head.
"Ma'am…" My voice cracked slightly. "I wanted to ask you something."
Every head in the room turned toward me at once. Ten pairs of identical eyes, all reflecting the same dim light. The teacher stopped writing on the board.
"Yes?" she said softly, not turning around yet.
My throat felt dry. I swallowed hard. "Who… am I?"
The chalk stopped mid-stroke.
For a moment, the world froze. The faint hum of the fluorescent lights seemed to vanish. Even my own breathing sounded wrong.
Then, slowly, the teacher turned to face me. Her expression was calm—too calm.
Her eyes, however, were different now. Cold. Searching.
"Why," she asked, her voice smooth as glass, "are you asking me that?"
The question didn't make sense. Or maybe it made too much sense. I couldn't tell.
Around me, the other students stared, faces blank, unblinking. Their stillness sent a chill down my spine.
I forced a small laugh. "It's just… I don't remember anything before this class."
No one reacted. Not the teacher. Not the students. Not even a sound.
Then one of the lights above flickered, just once, and I thought I saw something—something like static ripple across the walls, like a glitch.
The teacher smiled faintly.
"Focus on your lesson," she said. "You'll remember what you're meant to."
The room fell back into silence.
But the unease didn't leave. It grew.
Because as I looked around the classroom, I realized something I hadn't noticed before—every student sitting here… looked exactly like me.
Then—click.
The clock stopped.
The room went dark.
And somewhere deep in the walls, a faint red light began to blink.