It was starting again. Just like all the times before.

This time though, he remembered.

He hated the times he couldn't remember the mess he had gotten himself into. It gave him a false sense of hope that everything would work out with what he was doing till the memories of the times before would come knocking right as the cycle came to an end again.

Henry sighed as the sights of the main floor of the original studio filled his vision. Empty as ever. No one around. Just him and the horrors that awaited eagerly for him to turn on the machine. The machine they all relied so heavily on in order to come alive.

The times he remembered the situation he was in, he dreaded turning the machine on. He didn't WANT to turn the machine on… but what choice did he have? If he didn't, things would just remain still. Nothing would set in motion and sadly, there was no second option or an exit route. He had put off turning on the machine before as a means of resting his head for a bit during the times he remembered what was going on but… after awhile, he knew that fate demanded he did.

That Joey demands that I do.

It was rare but sometimes he could hear the sound of his old friend's voice echoing from above, narrating the events going on around him or what he himself was doing. It was twisted… The way Joey spoke of him. The way his tone sounded, it was like he was telling a story he just made up to entertain someone, not someone's personal Hell.

That's what this was as far Henry was concerned. A Hell created for him for reasons he wasn't sure he would ever understand. He wanted so badly for it all to end… but it never would till something changed.

What that was?

He had no idea.

For now… He had a headache to nurse before deciding to go through everything once more.

Henry made his way over to one of the walls of the studio, holding up an odd contraption that looked like a giant square shaped magnify glass with light bulbs attached to it. He looked through it, seeing a large quantity of tallies on the wall before him. He sighed, digging into his pocket, pulling out an ink pen that had white glowing ink dripping from it. He added a tally to the wall before sitting down, laying his back against it, setting down his tools.

Henry stared up at the ceiling for a moment before closing his eyes, trying to relax and drift off for a bit… hoping maybe he could wake from this nightmare for good.

Wake up next to his wife… have his kids jump on him to wake him up so he wouldn't be late for work. What would he give to have that all back. To pretend this was all just a bad a dream.

But it wasn't. It was very real.

And there was no way out.

430 times told him that much.

And yet… he kept going. Believing some how… some way…

There was still hope of escape.