The screen went black. Then the Apple chime played—backward. The login window reappeared, but his password didn’t work. Neither did his backup admin account.

At 89%, his room went cold. The kind of cold that doesn’t come from an open window. He checked the thermostat: 72 degrees. His breath fogged faintly.

On page four of that forgotten forum, a new comment appeared, timestamped 2:17 AM:

Leo’s own hand was on the mouse. The mouse cursor was still.

A new layer appeared. Layer 1. A soft brush stroke, colored the exact shade of dried blood. It traced the jawline of the woman in the photo. Then another stroke. Then another. The brush moved in real time, smooth as a human hand.

The last thing he saw before the screen went white was the brush tool icon, spinning endlessly in the center of the void.

He yanked the USB cord. The brush kept moving.

And someone had already started editing it.