Vanessa stares at the monitor like it might confess.

“That’s not possible,” she murmurs.

You lean closer. The timestamp jumps—from 1:12 a.m. to 3:47 a.m.

Two and a half hours gone.

“But that’s you,” you say gently. “Same uniform. Same badge.”

Vanessa shakes her head. “I was in the security office the whole time. I never left.” On the screen, her image pauses.

Then—just before the feed glitches—she turns.

And looks directly into the camera.

Vanessa’s breath stutters. “I don’t remember this,” she whispers. “I don’t remember any of this.”

She finally looks at you—not like a guard, but like someone afraid of herself.

“Promise me something,” she says quietly. “If I… start acting different—if I disappear—don’t let it stay hidden.”