The alarm reads 6:14 a.m., Thursday. Maren already knows the rain starts at 6:51. She has watched it begin forty times now. Ward C smells like cleaner and cold coffee when she clocks in. Same chart. Same silent man in Bed 9 who hasn't woken in two years. She is wiping his arm when his fingers twitch and grab her wrist, hard. He has never moved before. "Day forty-one," he whispers. "Don't let it reset."

Maren freezes. "You know about the loop?" The man's eyes open, clear and sharp. "I started it," he says. "My name is Sol. I'm trapped in here, and so are you. Help me sit up. We don't have long before 6:51." She checks the clock: 6:33. She decides to listen.