#backwards!narrator

"Do you want help or not, J̧o͝h͏n͞n͡y̷ Boy~? "

My life is gone. The person I love has faded. I wait to be called up again, to start the cycle anew. One more time now, from the top. Let's do it again, Stanley. Let's try this again.

Let me hurt you again. Let me die, again. Let me suffer your wrath, again. Let me fade away into obscurity as you grapple with your own humanity, your sins, your lack of mercy. Again. Again. Again.

Again.

It's the same now as it was then.

Perhaps he is dead.

When was the last time someone looked directly at him? Spoke to him?

It seems like years ago. Perhaps it was years. Perhaps he died and now he is haunting the Office, quietly passing by rooms full of conversation and laughter, sometimes tears. He sees them forming friendships and rivalries, defeating monsters together and sharing small joys after the chaos. No one glances up as he walks by because he doesn't make a sound.

He's not an idea, nor a memory. Those who know he exists don't care enough to seek him out. He doesn't have connections with anyone, other than the one who hates his very core.

But a part of him prefers that.

It is lonely and cold, but no one comes to hurt him. No one tries to find him for their twisted games. Of course, no one comes to offer him company either but if solitude means peace from the drama, he'll accept it.

Hm.

What is his name?

He is certain he has one. One that's short and sweet, non threatening.

...no, that can't be right. There's already someone who has his name. The other him. He is tall and friendly, loved by some, hated by others, feared by a few more. He has people who care for him. He is the better one.

Not him, though. His name is not even short for something. It just is what it is. Except now, there is someone else who has this name and so he remains nameless.

Perhaps if he wanders long enough, he'll find a place as quiet and empty as his mind and he'll sit down to take a nap. 

..Escaped? That shouldn’t be possible. More than likely, he’s stuck in some other part of the Office. Or got erased. But.. Clementine wants to hold onto hope. Maybe he truly did find a way out. But that feeling was fleeting, the hope growing numb as her focus returns to the monitor.

“..what do you think will happen if we ‘register a new user?’” - @the-data-collector

John takes a few breaths to calm himself before he answers. Hallucination or not, Clementine's presence is starting to make him feel safer. He doesn't want to chase her away with a potential meltdown, so he figures the smoother the conversation goes, the longer she'll stick around.

"I don't think we can, from down here." He says. "You have to be the Admin to do so, but…I don't have access to the control room anymore. I think…he hid and locked it." Even mentioning 'him' seems to make him shudder. He quickly changes the subject.

John stands bewildered in Stellan’s Lounge, glancing around at the changes that had popped up since he was last here. A piano here, a coat hanger there, an ice cream machine in the kitchenette - since when did they have a kitchenette?

He must’ve gone wrong. His Office must be another way.

Every door he walked through led to another hallway, which led to another hallway, which led to stairs that led to more hallways.

At first he told himself that he must’ve simply gotten lost, took the wrong turn into an Office building while he wasn’t paying attention. Odd, no employee working there seemed to realize he was in the wrong place, as the few he encountered simply smiled and nodded, then walked on. Or eyed him strangely as they hurried past.

John tried to stop a few to ask for directions. He had wanted to call Camille and tell her of his silly mistake that she wouldn’t worry, but when he checked his pockets he couldn’t find his phone.

Whenever he explained this, they gave him more weird looks and politely said they didn’t know where the exit was.

“Hmm, a nickname for our dear Miss Gentry?” John pretended to ponder, a smile playing on his lips.