Caleb woke up at his desk.
That was wrong.
He didn't remember sitting down.
The monitors glowed softly, feeds running as normal. The security room door was open, unlocked, as if nothing had happened.
Caleb checked the time.
6:00 a.m.
Morning shift.
The wall clock ticked again—seconds moving properly now.
His chest loosened slightly, then tightened again.
"That's worse," he muttered.
Because the hotel was pretending.
Footsteps echoed in the hallway.
Caleb froze.
The doorframe filled with the silhouette of the morning supervisor, Mrs. Hawthorne. Neat hair. Clipboard tucked under her arm. Same calm eyes she always had.
"Good morning, Caleb," she said.
Caleb stared at her. "You… you see me?"
She smiled faintly. "Of course."
His pulse spiked. "You're not asking why I'm still here."
Her smile lingered a second too long. "Why would I?"
She stepped inside and glanced at the monitors. "Quiet night?"
Caleb swallowed. "No."
She nodded. "Good."
That answer hit harder than fear.
Mrs. Hawthorne flipped through her clipboard. "We'll need you to review archived footage today. Old files. Third floor."
Caleb's throat went dry. "Why?"
She finally looked at him fully. "Because guests trust security. And security must understand… patterns."
She left before he could respond.
The door closed softly.
Caleb turned back to the monitors.
One screen had changed.
Not live feed.
ARCHIVE MODE.
Date stamp: 8 YEARS AGO
The camera showed the same security room.
Same angle.
Same desk.
A man sat where Caleb now sat.
Same uniform.
Different face.
Younger. Thinner. Nervous eyes.
The name tag read:
J. MORROW
Caleb leaned closer.
The footage played.
Morrow rubbed his hands together and whispered, "I won't go near it again."
A knock echoed through the speakers.
Three taps.
Morrow flinched.
"That's not funny," he said.
The door to the security room opened slowly.
No one entered.
The lights dimmed.
Morrow stood. "I quit. You hear me? I quit."
The monitors all switched to Room 313.
Inside, the bed was unmade.
Someone was sitting on it.
Waiting.
The footage cut.
Caleb's breathing grew shallow.
A text box appeared beneath the archive.
Previous Security Officer: STATUS—RESOLVED
Caleb scrolled.
Employment record: TERMINATED
Reason: NO CALL / NO SHOW
Caleb staggered back.
"No," he whispered. "You didn't disappear. You were replaced."
The radio crackled.
"Security," the receptionist said.
"We have a guest asking for help."
Caleb closed his eyes. "Which room?"
A pause.
"Room 313."
Caleb opened his eyes.
On the monitor, the hallway camera showed a woman standing outside the room.
Confused. Afraid. Alive.
The door behind her began to open.
Caleb reached for the radio—
Then stopped.
The words from the archive burned in his mind.
If you warn them, you replace them faster.
Caleb's hand trembled.
On screen, the woman turned, sensing something behind her.
She looked straight into the camera.
Straight at him.
Her lips formed one word.
Please.
The system waited.
So did the room.
So did Caleb.