The door clicked shut behind them.
It wasn't loud. It wasn't dramatic. It was just… final. Like a punctuation.
Sam jumped anyway. "Okay, nope. Fuck that. That door definitely just judged us."
"Relax," Jordan said, though his voice echoed strangely, stretching longer than it should have. "Automatic doors closes all the time."
"There is no power," Riley said, pointing up. "No lights. No wiring."
Jordan paused. "Okay. Sometimes automatic doors just close."
Alex turned slowly, observing details the way he always did when things felt out of control. The floor was tiled, pale gray, scuffed with marks that looked like decades of footsteps. The walls were painted a soft, institutional green.
"This looks like a school," Lena said.
"Or a hospital," Sam added. "Which is way worse."
Maya ran her fingers lightly along the wall. The paint was cool, smoother than she expected. Her skin prickled again, sharper now, like the building had noticed the touch.
The hallway stretched ahead of them, longer than the exterior should allow. Doors lined both sides, each one closed, each marked with faded plaques.
Alex frowned. "This building is three stories."
Sam squinted upward. "How do you know?"
"Because I counted," Alex said. "Outside."
Jordan exhaled through his nose. "You're assuming the inside obeys Euclidean geometry."
Sam blinked. "I definitely don't like that sentence."
They moved forward together, their footsteps out of sync. The air felt heavier with every step, pressing down on Alex's shoulders like an invisible hand.
The first door on the left creaked open easily.
Inside was a classroom.
Rows of desks. A chalkboard. A faded map of the world pinned crookedly to one wall. Sunlight filtered in through tall windows—except they faced inward, looking out onto another hallway.
"Okay," Lena said. "That's illegal."
Jordan stepped inside, eyes scanning everything. "The desks are old. Mid-90s, maybe earlier. But the map—" He paused. "That's freakly wrong."
"What do you mean?" Riley asked.
Jordan pointed. "Borders are way off. Some countries aren't even there ."
Sam whistled. "Cool. A racist time-travel classroom. Just what we needed."
Maya drifted toward the chalkboard. Someone had written on it recently.
**YOU WERE HERE BEFORE.**
Her breath caught.
"Guys," she said quietly.
They gathered behind her, the humor draining from the room.
Lena hugged herself. "WTF?"
Alex scanned the desks. One of them had initials carved into the corner.
A + M.
His stomach dropped.
"That's not possible," he murmured.
Sam leaned closer. "Do you know an A.M.?"
Alex shook his head slowly. "Those are my initials."
Jordan stared at him. "Okay. That's—statistically very unlikely."
A sound echoed down the hall.
Footsteps.
Everyone froze.
They weren't heavy. They weren't rushed. Just slow, deliberate steps, moving somewhere deeper in the building.
Sam mouthed, "please be rats, please be rats."
The footsteps stopped.
Then it started again—closer.
Alex motioned them back into the hallway. They slipped out, heartbeats loud in their ears.
The hallway had changed.
There were more doors now.
"Guys," Lena said. "There were not this many doors before,right ?."
Jordan rubbed his temples. "That's not possible."
Riley laughed once, sharp and nervous. "You say that a lot."
The footsteps faded, replaced by a low hum. Not sound exactly—more like vibration. It thrummed through the floor, up their legs.
Maya closed her eyes.
Images flickered behind them. Not visions—memories.
A locker slamming shut. Rain on asphalt. Someone calling her name in a voice she didn't recognize.
She gasped.
"You okay?" Lena asked.
Maya nodded too quickly. "Yeah. Just… dizzy."
They passed another open door.
Inside was a gym.
Not their gym—but close. The same layout. The same banners. Except the colors were wrong, and the scoreboard displayed a date from ten years before any of them were born.
Sam grinned weakly. "See? Totally normal."
A basketball lay abandoned at center court.
Riley nudged it with their foot.
It rolled on its own.
Straight toward the far wall.
And vanished.
Everyone stared.
"Nope," Sam said. "That ball just rage-quit reality."
Jordan crouched, examining the spot where it disappeared. "There's no seam. No trapdoor."
Alex swallowed. "We're leaving, NOW !"
The hum intensified.
Lights flickered on overhead—not fluorescent, but soft and golden, like late afternoon sun.
Lena frowned. "That's… nicer."
"That's worse," Alex said.
A voice crackled over an unseen intercom.
Not distorted. Not monstrous.
Just… tired.
"*You found it *" the voice said.
Sam jumped about a foot. "No,no,no,no."
"*You always do,*" the voice continued.
Maya felt the cold vanish, replaced by warmth. Comfort. Like being wrapped in a memory she didn't know she missed.
Alex clenched his fists. "Who is this?"
A pause.
"*Someonewhostayed,*" the voice replied.
Jordan's face went pale. "Stayed where?"
The lights dimmed slightly, guiding them toward the far end of the hall.
Lena shook her head. "I don't like that it's… directing us."
Riley's gaze locked forward. "I think it's been waiting."
They reached a wide doorway.
Inside was a room unlike the others.
It looked like Marrow.
Miniature streets. Model houses. A tiny river winding through the center. Pinprick lights glowing in windows.
At the center stood a board labeled:
**VERSIONS **
Pinned to it were photographs.
The six of them.
Different ages. Different clothes. Different expressions.
One photo showed them older, standing together—but one face was missing.
Another showed the building fully formed, towering over the town.
Maya's hands trembled. "Those haven't happened yet."
The voice spoke again, closer now.
"*Notyet,*" it agreed.
Sam laughed weakly. "Okay. So. Fun theory guys. We're hallucinating.we are all mental."
A door slammed shut behind them.
The model town lit up.
And one tiny building—right where they stood—began to glow.