Jamie Lorne's smile was too perfect.
Too smooth. Too empty.
Like someone had hollowed him out and left the shell walking around, wearing his skin, his charm, his voice—but not his soul.
Harper stood frozen in the hallway, the rush of students blurring past her like she was underwater.
Jamie tilted his head again. "You okay?"
No. No, she wasn't.
Because three days ago, he was terrified. He begged her not to go into Room 13A. He left her a warning in a whisper only she remembered.
And now?
Now, he was just another stranger. Rewritten.
She took a shaky breath and stepped back. "No. I think I made a mistake."
She turned before he could reply.
Before the thing pretending to be Jamie could dig deeper into her memory and try to take more.
Back at her locker, Harper tore out a blank page from her journal. Her fingers moved fast, scribbling every fragment she could remember:
Katherine Quinn = Harper Quinn?
Jamie erased > Returned > Empty
The mirror smiled. Not me.
They watch through reflections.
Avoid mirrors, water.
STAY. AWAKE.
Room 13A = vanishes during day.
"Don't fall asleep."
She folded the paper, slid it behind her student ID, and pressed it to her chest. She needed someone to see what she saw—just in case.
And she knew exactly who.
Science Lab.
Morgan was hunched over a test tube, her short black hair pulled back in a messy knot. She didn't look up when Harper stormed in.
"Morgan. You have to listen."
"You're interrupting my attempt to cheat death through caffeine and molecular bonds. This better be nuclear."
"It's worse," Harper said. "It's Bellridge."
Morgan finally looked up, and one glance at Harper's face wiped the sarcasm clean from hers.
"Start talking."
So Harper did.
About the Archives. The fire extinguisher reflection. The message scratched on the wall. Jamie forgetting her. Katherine's photo. Room 13A.
She didn't leave anything out.
When she was done, Morgan stared like she'd just been asked to disprove gravity.
And then she whispered, "Holy crap. You weren't kidding."
"I need help," Harper said. "I don't know who to trust anymore. Even Jamie–he's been rewritten like… like a corrupted file."
Morgan nodded slowly. "I've heard of cases like this. Urban legends. Places that eat time. People rewritten mid-existence. There was this thread I found once–late night forum stuff. They called it The Mirror Effect."
Harper's spine chilled. "That thing in the hallway… it was me. But not. It was watching."
Morgan leaned closer. "Then we need to find out who's writing the rules here. Because if they can erase Jamie… they can erase anyone."
She reached for her laptop bag and pulled out an old cassette tape recorder. Harper blinked.
"You carry that around?"
"I collect weird," Morgan said simply. "Digital stuff can be edited. Corrupted. But tape?" She grinned. "Tape remembers."
Harper stared at her for a second—then smiled for the first time all day.
That night, Harper and Morgan snuck back into Bellridge.
Morgan wore a GoPro. Harper carried her dad's old flashlight and the cassette recorder. They retraced Harper's steps through the east corridor—past the same lockers, the same echoing hush.
But this time, Harper wasn't alone.
They passed the Archives door. It was locked again, chained this time. New padlock.
"Someone knew you were here," Morgan muttered.
Harper nodded. "It's not just one person. This is bigger."
They kept moving until they found it:
The fire extinguisher case.
The glass reflected them both.
Harper stepped forward, breath catching. "Last time… it didn't copy me."
Morgan studied the reflection. "Looks normal."
Then she lifted the GoPro and whispered, "Smile."
They both smiled into the mirror.
The reflection smiled back.
Until Morgan dropped her grin and waved her hand.
The reflection kept smiling.
"Harper," Morgan said, her voice shaking, "It's not copying us anymore."
Harper's pulse roared.
And then–CRACK.
The mirror fractured.
Not shattered. Cracked, like ice under weight. Thin opening crawled from the edges.
From behind the glass, Harper saw movement.
Not hers.
Not Morgan's.
Something else. Watching.
They bolted back to the classroom wing, hearts hammering.
They didn't speak until they reached the empty chemistry lab.
Morgan hit stop on the recorder.
The tape hissed.
Then, faintly--not their voices--
"She's awake. Move faster."
The girls stared at each other.
And then Harper said it aloud, like a vow:
"I'm done running."
"If they want me gone, they're gonna have to fight for it."