(Basically this is a story in which I am in Henry's place. And yeah. It's self shipping leave me be)

I sighed to myself as I doodled on a little piece of paper. I had been in this small room for a few days now, around like the eight hundredth cycle. Every time I had gone through this story... this constructed fantasy so a certain someone could push his own mistakes and wrongdoing onto other people. It was hell. A hell I had gotten used to. I knew everything that would happen, every secret that had been pushed into this repeated circle. And yet... I could find one silver lining.

Allison. I had known her before all this happened, when she and I worked at the studio, and she and I had gotten along well. She was an apprentice to the lead voice actress at the time, and she and I were on friendly terms when I left the company. We lost touch over the years and the next thing I knew... we were both trapped in this place.

The poor gal had lost all her memories... Yet she stayed true to who she was before all of this happened. She stayed strong and resilient, yet sweet and considerate to who she was. I'd be lying to say I hadn't developed feelings for her. How could you not? I looked up from my drawing and saw Allison painting on the walls. I stood up and approached the bars that trapped me in the small room she and Tom kept me in.

"I know you're watching me. It's just... a little creepy." Even after all this time, all these restarts, her voice still gave me butterflies.

"You're the one who writes on the walls." My voice was monotone, flat and dead. I had said these lines so many times, the emotion long gone from the overuse.

"We all do. For some poor souls down here, it's the only way they can heard. But you don't want to touch the ink for too long. It can claim you. Pull you back." She dipped her paintbrush in the pot of ink again, continuing to paint. She would have been a great artist is she had chosen to pursue it.

"That's how I met Tom. I was messing with things I shouldn't have been and he... he was there." A twinge of jealousy struck my heart. It always hurt hearing her talk about Tom. Especially after learning the two were married before this all happened.

"Why do you call him Tom?"

"He just seems to respond to it."

"Well, I don't think he's very fond of me." The angel stopped painting, setting her paintbrush down on top of the pot.

"Let me show you something." She turned around to face me, and I smiled softly at her. Even like this, she was still so beautiful. I tuned out what she was saying, I had heard it so many times that it had become second nature. While I didn't listen to what she had said, I did pay attention to how passionate and excited she was. She was smiling brightly, and her joy and excitement as apparent as she talked about the seeing tool. I only realized her spill was coming to an end when she placed the tool on the board in front of me. I picked it up like I did, and trained my focus on her. My smile widened at the familiar sight of the golden halo above her head.

She claimed to not be an angel, but it seems that the world could show who she really was. An angel. Through and through. Not like Susie, who claimed to be an angel when she was filled with nothing with pride, wrath, and vengeance. Allison was a true angel. Kind, strong, determined and inspiring.

"I don't think I'm meant to leave this place, Nicey." Her voice cut through my thoughts and I lowered the tool from my sight.

"But maybe... you are!"

"Alice... please let me out of here." It hurt me every time I had to call her by her story given name, but I had to. I didn't have a choice.

"Tom thinks you're dangerous."

"And what do you think?"

"I think... you're the hope I've been waiting for." My heart lit up like a Christmas tree at that. It may be scripted, it may constantly be repeated with every restart, but... it still made me happy.

"Go to sleep. Maybe tomorrow will be better." I  obliged, lying down on the small bed in the room. I love Allison. I really love her.

And maybe if this had never happened, she would love me too.