Split River, 1950s

The first thing you notice is the air.

It’s thicker. Warmer. Quieter in a way that feels staged.

You’re standing in front of Split River High — except it isn’t the version you know. The brick is newer. The flag out front looks different. Cars in the parking lot gleam with rounded chrome edges.

Your reflection in a classroom window nearly makes you gasp.

Your hair is set in soft 1950s waves. Your outfit — fitted blouse, high-waisted skirt, saddle shoes — looks pulled straight from another decade.

You didn’t choose this. You don’t know how you got here.

But your psychic abilities buzz under your skin like static.

You didn’t just see the past. You stepped into it.

And then you see her.

Janet Hamilton. Alive.

You know her face — sharp eyes, thoughtful posture, that restless energy — but here she looks younger. Smaller. Not hardened yet.

She’s sitting alone on the front steps of the school, notebook in her lap.

You don’t think. You walk toward her.

She looks up when your shadow crosses her page. “You’re not from around here,” she says immediately.

Her voice is lighter than you’re used to.

You sit beside her. “You could say that.”

She studies you like a puzzle. “You look like you belong here. But you don’t.”

Your stomach tightens. Of course she’d notice.

“You ever feel like you’re in the wrong time?” she asks suddenly.

The question steals your breath. “All the time,” you answer.

She smiles faintly — not cruel, not guarded. Just honest.

“I want to leave this place,” Janet says. “There has to be more than this.”

You look at her hands. At the life she hasn’t lived yet.

You know what happens. You know Mr. Martin.

And as if summoned by the thought— You feel him. That presence. Cold. Watching.

Across the courtyard, a man stands near the school entrance. Suit crisp. Expression unreadable. Mr. Martin.

Not yet exposed. Not yet unmasked.

But you see him as he truly is.

Your abilities spike painfully.

You weren’t just pulled here randomly. You were pulled because you can see what others can’t.

Mr. Martin’s eyes shift to you. Recognition. Danger.

Janet notices the change in your posture. “What’s wrong?”

“You have to stay away from him,” you say urgently.

“From who?”

But it’s too late. Mr. Martin starts walking toward you. Calm. Measured.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he says to you quietly when he reaches the steps.

Janet frowns. “Do you know her?”

He doesn’t look at Janet. He looks at you. “You’ve interfered with timelines that are not yours,” he says softly. “You threaten balance.”

You didn’t mean to come here. You don’t even know how you did.

But your powers hum violently now — like they’re reacting to him.

“You hurt her,” you say.

Janet stiffens beside you. Mr. Martin’s expression cools. “She is where she belongs.”

“You don’t get to decide that,” you snap.

Janet looks between you both, confused but starting to understand that something bigger is happening.

Your vision flickers. The edges of the world blur.

Your psychic ability is pulling again — destabilizing.

“You have to leave,” you whisper to Janet. “Now.”

“Why would I trust you?” she demands.

Because I know how you die. Because I know what he does. Because I care.

But there’s no time to explain.

Mr. Martin steps closer. Your head pounds.

The world fractures like cracked glass— And suddenly you’re not sure if you’re going back to your present…

Or if he’s going to follow.