I packed everything in under fifteen minutes.
Didn't care what I left behind.
Just wanted out.
Keys. Wallet. Phone. Clothes.
One bag.
One exit.
The elevator was waiting when I opened my door, as if it had been called in advance.
Its doors slid open with a chime.
But when I stepped inside, the floor indicator was wrong.
No numbers.
Just letters.
N – O – T – R – E – A – L
Each time I pressed the "L" button—lobby—it beeped twice and changed to "0B."
Like the system had been reprogrammed.
I stepped out. Took the stairs instead.
Fifteen flights later, I reached the front lobby.
Breathless.
Heart pounding.
Pushed through the glass doors.
Felt air hit my face.
Relief.
Almost.
Except… something was off.
The street was quiet.
Too quiet.
No traffic.
No birds.
No wind.
Just… static.
And the world outside the building looked washed out.
Like an overexposed photograph.
Or a video on pause.
I ran to the corner.
Turned left.
Expected to see the cafe, the bookstore—
Instead, I saw my apartment building again.
Same address.
Same door.
Same sidewalk crack in the same place.
I was looping.
I ran again.
Faster.
Three blocks this time.
Cut across alleys. Turned at random.
Came out into open air.
Stared up.
There it was.
My building.
Again.
I turned around—
And saw myself running into the alley across the street.
Same bag.
Same clothes.
Same terror.
And then that version of me looked back.
Stared.
And mouthed:
"Don't go."
I ran in the opposite direction.
Didn't care where I ended up.
I had to break the loop.
After what felt like half an hour, I collapsed on a bench.
Looked at my phone.
Battery at 82%.
Time: 8:07 AM.
But the date was wrong.
It said:
January 3rd, 1998
I blinked.
Closed the app.
Opened calendar.
Same result.
I checked the news.
No headlines loaded.
No connection.
Just a banner:
"You are offline. Would you like to return?"
Return?
To where?
I stood again.
Started walking.
Every store I passed had the same name:
"The Room."
A diner.
A barbershop.
A gas station.
All named The Room.
No people.
Just… background noise.
And that same soft static.
I reached into my pocket for my ID.
But my wallet was gone.
In its place: a folded slip of paper.
Unfamiliar.
No handwriting.
Just printed letters:
"Your release has been denied.The contract remains in effect.Time spent outside will be deducted from inside."
I turned around.
Behind me, the world had changed again.
Now the bench I sat on was gone.
Replaced by a mirror.
Standing upright in the middle of the sidewalk.
Inside it: my apartment.
Visible through the reflection.
Room 0B.
Just sitting there, like a stage play frozen in time.
I touched the glass.
It rippled.
Then my reflection smiled.
I didn't.
A man stepped into view behind the mirror version of me.
Tall.
Wearing a white mask.
No features.
He reached into my reflection's chest—
And pulled out a scroll.
Unrolled it.
Read it.
Then looked straight at me.
The mirror cracked.
Shattered.
When I opened my eyes—
I was back.
Inside my apartment.
Sitting on the couch.
Same bag at my feet.
Same packed clothes.
Except now… the walls had changed.
They were closer.
Tighter.
As if the room had shrunk by two feet in every direction.
The ceiling had dropped.
The corners of the room were darker.
And in the middle of the floor:A single phrase, painted in ink:
"Attempt to exit recorded.Adjustments applied.Next breach = voiding."
I screamed.
Tore down the curtain.
Threw open the window.
There was no street outside.
Just black.
Void.
As if the world ended at the brick.
I picked up the apartment lease again.
Flipped to the last page.
A new clause had appeared.
"SECTION 13:Tenants attempting to abandon their contract will forfeit:
Personal continuity
Directional stability
Time-line privilegesAppeals are processed in Room 0C only.Appointments are permanent."
I opened the closet.
The light inside blinked.
There was no closet anymore.
Just a staircase.
Leading down.
Deeper than the building should allow.
Each step labeled:
[ ] Memory[ ] Voice[ ] Identity[ ] Exit
The last step:
[ ] You
I didn't move.
Didn't breathe.
Just closed the door again.
Sat on the floor.
And whispered to the room:
"What do you want?"
The lights flickered.
The mirror cleared.
And for the first time—
It answered:
"To be remembered.By something that can still leave."