Elena turned. The microwave clock blinked: 1:37 a.m.

 

The room spun.

 

She gasped. Pain lanced through her ribs—an echo of an injury she never got. The windows flickered with light. A sound like wind and whispers pressed against the cabin walls. And then she heard it.

 

The phone was ringing, not her current one, which was long gone, but a phantom ring, her old ringtone.

 

A sound embedded deep in memory. The call she hadn't answered. Not this time.

 

Somewhere, a version of her still waited to make the call. Still hoped to change the ending.

 

She grabbed the blue book and flipped through it frantically. "To sever the loop, the echo must reverse course. The origin must call forward, not back."

 

 Elena stood. Picked up the rotary phone left by the cabin owner, a dusty antique, but still functional. She dialed her old number.

 

It rang once.

 

Twice.

 

Then “Hello?" Her voice. Groggy. Confused.

 

Elena closed her eyes.

 

"Don't go in tomorrow," she heard herself say softly.

 

"What?"

 

"Just listen. This is you. Two days from now. You won't grasp it yet, but if you enter, it all unravels. Ignore the cameras. Sarah is not to be relied upon. Leave this evening."

 

"Is this some sort of…?"

 

"Promise that you will do this for me."

 

Then, a shaky, 'Okay.'

 

Silence.

 

After Elena finished her call, she hung up.

 

The air was cleared. The room was still.

 

Outdoors, the stars shone more brightly than ever.

 

And when she looked at the clock again, it was 1:38 a.m. For the first time in a week, time had advanced.

 

She breathed out.

 

Loop broken.

 

For the time being.