Neverending Loops

Chapter 7.

Joey woke up for the second time in a couple of hours. After the whole ordeal with Sammy, they'd both been shaken up, and he still felt jittery. But they were safe for now, tucked away in a dark corner that seemed hidden from the rest of the Studio's depths. He'd wanted to find somewhere with more structure, more protection, but decided this would do.

He knew he needed rest, but he didn't want to face the images that flashed behind his eyes when he closed them. Joey turned his head towards his companion, who was pressed against his side as if afraid he would disappeared. Henry was fast asleep, no signs of nightmares or stress; and Joey decided he liked how it looked. That didn't stop him from anxiously picking Henry's hand up and gently pressing his fingers against his wrist, hoping the steady beat never faltered each time.

He studied the puncture wound, careful not to disturb his friend. It had gone clean through, but luckily missed anything particularly important. But before long this eyes started to close, despite his best efforts to keep them open. Joey lowered their hands, careful not to brush the wound against the floor. And at some point he simply couldn't keep his eyes open anymore, succumbing to fatigue.

Of course, it was anything but sweet dreams.

<i>Joey blinked, once again waking up somewhere other than where he had fallen asleep. More than anything, it was just grating on his nerves. Was it so much to ask for even a few moments of peace?

Evidently so, because as his eyes wandered around the new space, he realized there were shapes on the floor. More corpses. Joey didn't want to look, he truly didn't, even as he walked farther into the space. They were all mutilated, chests and heads bashed open, revealing the inner workings that had once kept them alive.

As he tried to process where he was and why they were here with him, Joey made a sickening realization, something gut wrenching. Every body on the floor was one of his co-workers, his friends.

Norman, a projector crudely shoved into the side of his head, gore protruding from around the unwelcome object.

Susie, one half of her face bashed in entirely, so demolished that bits of bone and flesh lay at her side. Two sharp bits of metal were shoved into her skull, forming crude horn-like shapes.

Sammy, eyes still wide in fear, ink trailing down his chin. His chest was torn apart, dark thick ink replacing what should have been organs, bones, and blood.

On and on the macabre collection of corpses went, until Joey was sure he was going to be sick. Another morbid realization washed over him, and he noticed something horrid. Everyone was there, scattered along the floor like discarded dolls, except for one person. Which meant whatever sat waiting at the back of the dark room wasn't going to be pleasant in the slightest.

Joey reluctantly pressed on, only pausing when a spotlight flickered to life a few feet in front of him. Under the spotlight sat a chair, and in the chair sat a person. Well, more like the person was splayed out over it, head lolling to the side, as limp as a puppet with its strings cut.

Joey stared at the person, not comprehending the morbid scene before instinct took over and he was shaking Henry's shoulders, trying to get him to do anything. He was frantically looking for any sign of life, any twitch or gasp. But any effort wouldn't matter he realized, eyes trailing over his friends broken and twisted neck.

Even if he had been alive, there wouldn't be anything Joey could do. His windpipe was crushed, sharp pieces of bone poking through the skin. What Joey hated the most however though, was the complete and utter lack of life and warmth in Henry's eyes.

It was awful, and Joey took a shuddering breath, closing his own eyes and willing himself to wake up from whatever terrible nightmare this was. When he opened them again, he was surrounded by the lifeless corpses of his friends, all wearing accusing stares.

Joey couldn't breathe now, the sight of everyone he loved horribly mangled and decayed burned into his head. And then Henry's hands were on his shoulders, cold and stiff, and <b>wrong;</b> and Joey couldn't get air in his lungs, sight dimming because he couldn't breathe he could'nt breathe-</i>

Until he could, gasping like someone who'd been drowning and suddenly pulled to the surface. He barely registered the wetness on his face as something warm pressed against his cheek. Something <i>warm</i>, not cold and dead. He shivered involuntary, phantom hands gripping his shoulders.

"You were dreaming. It was a dream. This is real, not whatever you saw." Joey tried to listen, tried to focus on Henry's voice, but only saw the corpse drained of all the life and light and warmth that his friend carried with him.

"But I saw- I saw them and I saw you, and I couldn't do <i>anything."</i> Joey paused, trying to get his breathing back to anything that resembled normal. "I couldn't- there wasn't anything I could do."

The hand on his face moved to hold his own, and he held onto it as though it would disappear if he didn't.

"It's okay, just try to focus okay? Look around and tell me what you see." Henry's voice was gentle, trying to get him to realize that it really was safe, this is what was real. "Just three things."

Three things, he could find three things.

"I can- I can see you." The mark around his throat. "The ink on the walls." The ink spilling from corpses mouths. "My hand in yours." The lack of a pulse on his wrist.

"There you go. What about three things that you can feel?" Joey looked up, finally meeting Henry's eyes as he offered him a small smile. They weren't cold and lifeless, just calm and understanding.

"The floor. Our hands. Your- your heartbeat. Its there." He half whispered the end of the sentence, willing it not to be some sort of cruel trick.

"Mhm. See, everything's okay. We're okay Jo." It took Joey a second to realize he was mirroring Joey's words from earlier. "I'm not goin' anywhere anytime soon."

"But it seemed so real Henry. It felt <i>real."</i> Joey could feel himself panicking again, so he didn't resist when Henry gathered him into his arms. "It felt real."

"As real as this?" He maneuvered one of Joey's hands so that it was pressed over his heart, making sure that Joey could feel it. "See? Right as rain. I mean as much as I can be while looking like I got in a fight and lost."

That earned a small laugh from Joey, who even though he was now not nearly as frantic, didn't want to move; not wanting the gorey images to come back.

So they stayed like that for a long while, Joey curled up against Henry while he hummed a quiet tune, running his hand through Joey's hair.

As much as Joey tried to resist it, he ended up dozing off again, though this time there wasn't a room full of corpses to welcome him. Just a feeling of safety.