Harper stared at the grainy image like it might blink back at her.
Katherine Quinn.
Sixteen.
Missing since 1963.
And her face—a perfect mirror of Harper's own.
She tore her gaze from the article, suddenly aware of how loud her breathing sounded in the silence of the archive. The room felt colder. Like the past had noticed her noticing it.
She snapped a photo of the page with her phone and tucked the original back into the folder. If anyone discovered her down here, questions would follow—and questions led to places she wasn't ready to explain.
As she backed away from the shelf, something caught her eye.
Another folder. Misplaced. Sticking out awkwardly beneath the base of the cabinet.
She knelt and tugged it out.
Bellridge Academy: Incident Reports – 1963
Her hands shook as she opened it.
One file. A single page. Red-stamped.
CONFIDENTIAL: Student Behavioral Abnormality
Subject: Katherine Quinn
Room 13A
Report Date: October 9th, 1963
"Subject continues to report vivid dreams, hallucinations, and experiences of 'time slipping.' Insists that she is being watched by a version of herself who is not her.
Requesting transfer. Denied.
Room 13A under review for structural irregularities."
Harper's blood ran cold.
October 9th.
That was today's date.
She looked back at the photo of Katherine. At the almost-smile. At the haunted eyes.
This wasn't a coincidence. It was a pattern.
Harper Quinn wasn't just a new name in a cursed dormitory.
She was a kind of echo.
Jamie's foot tapped impatiently as Harper burst into the common room, clutching her phone.
"You're not going to believe this," she said, breathless.
"Try me," he replied, eyes narrowing.
She showed him the photo of the article.
He stared. Then did a double take.
"That's… that's you."
"Exactly. But from sixty-two years ago."
Jamie ran a hand through his hair. "You're telling me there's a girl from the sixties with your name i mean sur name and your like a face who also went missing from Room 13A?"
"No," Harper said softly. "I'm telling you I think I am her. Or what's left of her. Or maybe I'm… someone caught in the loop she tried to break."
Jamie opened his mouth, then closed it. "Okay. That's insane. But somehow, I believe you."
Harper gave a small, dry laugh. "Thanks."
They both turned when the hallway lights flickered.
Once.
Twice.
Then all at once.
"Not again," Jamie muttered.
Harper moved to the door—and froze.
The hallway wasn't right.
Where Room 14 should've been, there was now an old wooden door.
Room 13A.
But the number wasn't carved in wood.
It was burned into it.
The knob shined like it had just been polished.
Harper reached out.
The doorknob turned in her hand with an almost welcoming click.
Inside, it was exactly as she remembered.
The soft hum.
The symbols on the ceiling.
The mirror, cracked diagonally across the surface, warping her reflection just slightly.
But this time, something was different.
A book sat on the bed.
Her old notebook.
She picked it up slowly.
A message was written inside.
In her handwriting.
"I'm not gone. I'm you. And you're next. Unless you end it."
Her breath hitched.
She turned the page.
There was a list.
10/9 – Harper Quinn
10/10 – Jamie Lorne
Harper's hands trembled.
It wasn't just about her anymore.
Jamie's name was next.
She dropped the notebook and ran.
Back in the common room, Jamie was already halfway to the hallway.
"Did you find—"
"You have to leave," Harper cut him off. "Today. Now."
"What? Why?"
She shoved the notebook at him.
He read it.
He turned pale.
"I'm being hunted," she said, voice shaking. "By the version of this place that eats time. And now… you're part of it too."
Jamie looked up, resolve hardening in his jaw. "Then we fight it together."
Harper swallowed the lump in her throat.
"I hope we still can."