5:15

My blankets threatened to swallow me, warm and inviting. I knew it was inevitable; my alarm blinked an angry red: 5:15 am, blaring in my ears. I woke up before the sun did, which makes sleep even more inviting. I sat up, forgoing to turn on the light to preserve my unadjusted eyes a little longer.

That was the first time I noticed it. I opened the door to my bathroom, the same bathroom that’s been there for the entire three years I’ve lived here, but it was gone. All that remained was a parking lot. A massive, empty parking lot. It seemed desolate, yet the buzzing of the lights reminded me so much of when my father and I laid in the back of his truck, watching the lights and pretending they were stars. The lot, huge and empty of cars, sat right outside my apartment door.

I live on the 8th floor.

I quickly shut the door, running to turn on my light, immediately regretting it as my pupils were flooded with the light of a thousand suns, or at least, that’s what it felt like. Once my eyes were adjusted, I did a survey of my surroundings. Same chipped nightstand next to my bed. Same oak closet door with the broken hinge on the left side. This was definitely my room. Maybe I was dreaming, I often have vivid lucid dreams, that must be it. I walked to the bathroom door again, opening it like I’ve done a thousand times. Sure enough, same exact parking lot.

I must be dreaming. I decided that this was a problem for when the sun rose, and I texted my manager that I would not be going to work. I didn’t wait for a response, my bed calling me back before I even put my phone back down.

…*…

I woke up to around 30 calls from my manager, and even more texts. I figured it would sort itself out and put the phone on mute. Besides, it was 11 am, someone would’ve picked up my shift by now. The door to the bathroom looked the same as it did last night, but I decided to check, just in case. I walked up to the door, bracing myself, and...

Nothing. Just a regular bathroom, with a toilet, sink, and a shower. I was dreaming. Great. I went out into my kitchen and made myself some breakfast, before going back into my room and enjoying my day off. It was just a crazy real dream, nothing more.

…*…

At 5:15 on the dot, the red flashing wakes me up again, screaming at me to turn it off. I got up as usual, going straight to the bathroom. Just a normal bathroom, like I assumed. After washing up, I walked to my bedroom door to go into the kitchen and make myself breakfast. That’s the second time it happened. This time, I opened the door to reveal a hallway, long and grey, broken and cold.

It was so cold I could feel the chill from inside my room. The chill went down my spine and straight into my bones.

The walls were beaten in, snow and wind rushing through the broken holes, howling loud enough, it sounded like screaming. It wanted me to go in. It was screaming my name. But it was cold, way too cold to go in. Maybe I was dreaming again. Second night in a row. I pinched myself. Hard.

Not a dream.

Nope. Absolutely not. I closed my bedroom door, locking it and turning back to text my manager that I would once again be skipping work. I didn’t bother checking the other messages, I was too tired to read them anyways, and my bed felt so warm. I barely registered hitting send before I fell asleep.

…*…

It was 12 pm by the time I woke up. Same routine, I opened my bedroom door, and…

Nothing. Just a regular kitchen with a fridge, and a tiny counter with one stool. Weird, but I decided not to think about it. I had a new slew of calls and messages from my manager. Not my circus, not my monkeys. They could handle two days without me. Maybe my bedroom was the problem, I would try sleeping on the couch instead.

…*…

It had been one week straight of this. No matter what I did, every night, at 5:15 am, a new room in my house would lead to somewhere else. After the windy hallway, it was the empty grocery store on Wednesday, blaring old music from the 80s that sounded garbled and reminded me of the songs my father used to play in the car when I was a kid. On Thursday, it was a swimming pool, completely empty except for a small children’s rocking chair, and a torn copy of Goodnight Moon.That was a quiet one, the only sounds were mourning doves and cicadas, comforting and warm, like a summer night. Yesterday was the worst, a giant amusement park that had ripped clown posters and doppler effected lullabies playing. I couldn’t look away; it took everything in me to shut that door.

…*…

A week of weird places in rooms they shouldn’t be in, a week of messaging my manager. It was finally Saturday, the weekend! I figured that today was the perfect day to check my messages. I sat down on my couch, the time on my phone reading 5:15 pm. I had over 300 messages and almost double the calls. I went to check them, but they were missing, every single one of them, just gone. I rebooted my phone. With the retrograde, and my cheap Wi-Fi, there are bound to be issues. As it starts up, I pull up my manager’s contact. The only thing there is a message from them consisting of 5 words: Get out of that house.

Reasonably, I felt a little confused. My manager was probably just upset that I had missed a whole week of work. But they didn’t know what was going on with the rooms! I would simply text them and ask them if I could work afternoons instead. That’s all I needed to do, just sleep a little longer. I went to text my manager and tell them this, when I saw one voice note that I sent to my manager.

No, that’s not correct. Not just one voice memo, but five had appeared. Starting from this past Monday, all sent at the exact same time, every day, recorded for the exact same length. 5 minutes and 15 seconds exactly, no more, no less. All sent at 5:15 am. Before I even woke up.

A chill went down my spine. What I thought were texts of me calling out of work were random voice notes I sent. I pressed play on the most recent one. It’s just sleep talking, I talk in my sleep usually, so this didn’t surprise me. What didsurprise me, was the clarity and tone of the voice. Its whispers were louder than any scream could be, and it kept repeating the same thing:

“YOU CAN NEVER GO BACK. YOU CAN NEVER GO BACK. YOU CAN NEVER GO BA-“

I threw my phone across the room, the whispering turning into the same howling that I heard the night in the cold hallway. It was everywhere now. I ran to my front door, the only one I hadn’t opened all week. It was a field. A beautiful field, warm with the scent of adolescence and cut grass. I screamed, the voice getting louder when I stepped away from the door. I opened my bedroom door, and I saw my childhood bed, covered in the bright yellow comforter with the blue flowers that once felt so safe. I ran in, diving under the covers and inhaling the scent of my mother’s perfume, one she saved for special occasions. It felt so overwhelming that I plugged my nose to be rid of it. I tossed and turned but no matter how hard I tried, the past plummeted into me. I wanted to go back to work, my manager would fire me if I skipped another day. When I peeked out from the covers, my room looked the same as it always had. Same chipped nightstand, same broken hinge on my closet door. I saw my alarm clock blinking slowly, a warm, soft red waking me up like my mother did for school. I was so focused on the alarm that I never noticed how short I had become, or how Goodnight Moon sat perched on my nightstand, waiting to be read. It could wait, I was getting too old for books anyways, and it was finally time for school! My mom didn’t come in this time but that was okay, I was a big girl and besides, I always got up at the same exact time:

5:15 am.