Stanley parable one shots [requests]

Welcome to the story (Insanity)

Short summary : Stanley found himself waking to an office he'd never been to, with no sense of self and no memory of who he was or what he had been doing.
Upon hearing a voice, he attempted to ask, but ended up being rejected every time.
He eventually has a mental breakdown.

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(I didn't know where I was going with this so I apologise for it being so long.
This is essentially what Stanley may have felt being summoned to the parable for the first time. The timeline for these oneshots sure are messed up, huh.

Hopefully this is at least a bit entertaining.)

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His eyes opened.
Sat on an office chair, staring at a blank computer screen, surrounded by a dark room.
He spun the chair around.
A table lamp aimed plain white light onto the desk, multiple cabinets of messy files behind it.
427.

Where was he?
His head hurt like hell - a never ending pulsing pushing against his skull, over and over.
He collapsed his head into a hand, holding it stable while white noise rung in his ears.

What was he doing last night?
He couldn't remember.
Maybe he had fainted somehow. Alcohol maybe. People do forget things when they pass out unexpectedly, right? That would explain things. It would also explain why his head hurt so bad.

Where was this place?
He couldn't remember.
This looked like an office. Maybe he worked here.
But.. if he worked here, wouldn't he remember it?
Why couldn't he recognise the place if he'd worked there basically every day?

Okay, maybe he needed to go a bit further back.
What was the last thing he did?
He couldn't remember.
Besides waking here, he didn't know a single thing.

What was his name?
He didn't know.
Attempting to conjure up any conversation he could have ever had, he found nothing.
What did he look like?

Who was he?

The more he thought, the more it freaked him out. He had no clue what was going on. Maybe he was dreaming? This was way too realistic for a dream, he could feel every texture of the fabrics he wore, every surface he was on, every inhale and exhale he was taking. There was no way this was a dream.

He took a deep breath in and stood up, letting the sway of that sudden movement wash over him and letting his vision swirl. Only now did he take notice of the deathly silence and how every movement he made seemed to be way too loud. He swore he could feel the beating of his heart through his ribs and hear the blood being pumped to his head.

His hand leant onto the door handle, reluctant, before pressing down.

The buzzing, bright office lights rushed into his eyes and the faint smell of dust and paper rushed past him.
However, even after he adjusted to the light and took a look around, to his horror, the place was completely devoid of people.
He didn't know if that was for the better or worse. It gave him an uneasy feeling- as if he wasn't meant to be there.

Stepping out, the place stayed just as silent, his own footsteps on the carpet audibly rustling. What was he doing here?
He still couldn't answer that.
Maybe he was knocked out, or kidnapped, or - who knew. Anything could have happened at that point.

Walking around, he found a telephone.
He quickly rushed over, held it to his ear and entered random numbers into the keypad. Neither of the buttons made a noise.
Nothing answered the other side of the line but silence.
Of course, there was no wire coming from this phone. It had no power.

This whole thing was starting to creep him out. What if something had answered the other line?
What would it even be?
He was starting to tense at every sound he made. Each sense barely held themselves together and if something had suddenly happened, he was sure he would scream. He felt ready to jump at anything.
Letting out an exhale barely helped him loosen up.