No Escape [Stanley x Narrator]

Two

Again, Stanley was sitting at his desk, as though he had never jumped.

How long had this been going on? Days? Months?

...

Years?

His heart pounded in his chest, still affected from his previous adrenaline, even though there wasn't a single injury in his body. It wasn't anything he wasn't used to. He had been crushed, bled out, even blown up at some point.

Now, death didn't have much meaning.

He signed, leaning back, placing his head in his hands. He was so tired. He just wanted to get out, to be free of this hell hole. Anywhere would be better than here. There had to be something beyond this place.

He needed to believe that. It kept him from losing his sanity.

That, and the voice, "the Narrator". As much as he hated that British bastard, it was simply not human nature to be alright with being alone. Stanley found a sort of comfort in knowing that there was someone else with him.

Not that he'd let the Narrator know that. Not in a million years. Stanley finally stood up from the chair, stretching his arms, taking in a couple breaths to calm his speeding heart.

In...

...and out.

Over and over again.

Like this stupid parable.

Rubbing at his eyes, Stanley made his way out of the office, hearing the familiar voice that always seemed to be in his head, ever since he could remember. Which wasn't saying much, since all he could remember was this office.

"All of his co workers were gone. What could it mean?"

It was something he'd heard a thousand times over. Stanley continued on, the office silent aside from his footsteps; what could he do this time? Perhaps he could take a break, just do something to piss the Narrator off. As an idea came to mind, a small smile appeared on his lips, but only for a moment. It was something he had done before, though perhaps not as straightforward, but it would never get old.

To the Narrator's surprise, Stanley listened. He walked through the left door, jogged up the stairs, and typed the code into the keypad. He went down the elevator, and right into the Mind Control Facility, without getting off track. What a... sudden change of pace. Was Stanley finally going to listen to him, and complete the story?

A warm feeling filled his chest at the thought.

Stanley approached the control panel, his eyes narrowing as he did. For a moment, his hand hovered over the "off" button, and the Narrator could be heard scrambling around for the correct script. However, in a single moment, Stanley moved his hand and hit the "on" button.

There was silence. The usual dialog that would start for the Countdown Ending didn't come, nor did anything else. Stanley blinked, looking at the button again, and beginning to spam push it.

"God- stop it! Stop it, Stanley! You drive me absolutely mad! Do you hear me!? I am at the brink of insanity because of you!"

Stanley, as per usual, didn't make a sound. The Narrator never once heard him speak, and he didn't know whether he was mute or chose not to. Yet... this was new, to the protagonist. He'd never heard this before, so maybe the Narrator was actually fed up.

Good.

But what now?

The Countdown Ending didn't continue on. Stanley waited a moment, but not even a moment later, he was pushing the button over and over again. He wanted to provoke the Narrator, see where it went.

And see he did. Well, not so much as see rather than feel.

For the first time in so long, Stanley felt physical contact. A hand on his shoulder, in the darkness, gripping almost painfully for a moment before he felt someone clock him in the face. He recoiled, stumbling back, yet he didn't get too far, because his collar was grabbed and he felt whoever it was pull him back.

"Oh, Stanley..." Stanley heard a voice say, a familiar voice, the Narrator's voice. Only, this time, it wasn't in his head, "Why can't you understand that this is my story? That I am the boss around here? If I say go left, you go left. If I say take the stairs, you run up those stairs. If I say walk down the hallway, you walk down it and don't go exploring bloody fucking broom closets."

For the first time in a while, Stanley felt fear. Never once was the Narrator physical to him, just a body less voice that controlled everything except for him. He hadn't known that he could take on an actual form like this.

Stanley sucked in a breath as a hand lightly grazed his cheek, "I really don't understand why you make me do this, Stanley. From the beginning, that's all I wanted, yet you couldn't stand to have that, could you?" He winced when that same hand grabbed his face, rather harshly, "You had to try and prove that your fate was in your hands. Well, it isn't Stanley. It - and you - belong to me."

A shudder ran down Stanley's spine as the Narrator growled those last few sentences, though he couldn't tell what they were from. He didn't get much time to think about it, though, due to the sudden pressure on his neck, suffocating him. His eyes widened, and he began to choke and cough, clawing and pushing at the Narrator.

"What, would you prefer being blown to smithereens? Well, too bad, Stanley. Perhaps this experience will make you more willing to listen for once in your damn life." The Narrator hissed, continuing to suffocate the poor man. At one point, Stanley had caught his cheek, scratching deep enough to bring some blood.

That didn't stop the Narrator, though.

He kept his hands tight around Stanley's neck, until he stopped struggling and went limp, until his breathing finally came to a stop. The Narrator sighed, rising to his feet and wiping at his cheek, noting the wet sensation of blood.

...theendisnevertheendisnevertheendisnevertheendisnevertheendisnevertheendisnevertheendisnevertheendisnevertheendisnevertheendisnevertheendisnevertheendisnevertheendisnevertheendisnevertheendisnevertheendisnevertheendisnevertheendisnevertheendisnevertheendisnevertheendisnevertheendisneverthend...