"Welcome, sir. What would you like to drink?"
Elena said to Henry with a smile from across the counter.
Henry stood in front of the cashier—Elena.
His heart beat quickly.
His cheeks flushed.
"Sir? Are you okay?"
Elena asked, her voice lower.
"Sir?"
Henry snapped out of it.
"Oh—yeah, sorry… Black coffee."
He answered, looking away and fixing his tie.
"It's okay. I'm glad you're okay. Black coffee it is!"
Elena said, her smile lifting her whole mood.
Henry opened his eyes and found himself impaled on a metal rod ripping through his diaphragm, the crash ruins all around him.
He tried to yell, but as soon as he did a sharp pain shot through his entire body.
"F-Fuck…"
He coughed up blood, putting himself in even more pain.
"Agh…"
He tried to stand up, but the pain was unbearable.
He started looking around.
There was only one light bulb in the small room and a TV tied to a rope hanging from the ceiling.
"Augh…"
He tried again but gave up, trying to gather his strength.
Suddenly the TV started working.
The word ESCAPIST appeared on the screen.
Then a familiar voice was heard.
"Hello and welcome everybody! With another episode of your beloved show, the Downhill Show!"
Truth said with excitement, the crowd cheering loudly with happy music playing in the background.
"I'm Truth, and with me here is a person we all know and hate! Henry Ashford! Introduce yourself!"
At that, Henry coughed up more blood.
His eyes narrowed in anger.
His hands pressed around the wound.
The crowd laughed.
"Oh come on, Henry…! Is it so hard to say hello? Come on!"
The crowd started cheering Henry's name.
"F-Fuck you…"
Henry whispered in pain as he grunted and kept trying to get up.
"Well, guess that's your way of saying hello. Haha!"
Truth cleared his throat.
"I'm actually here to help you out of your shitty situation. Just look at yourself. In less than an hour you're gonna die…"
Henry breathed as if through a wet cloth, yet not enough—taking short breaths carefully.
The crowd exploded in laughter.
"So pathetic! Just get up, weakling!"
Henry's body tensed as he tried to get himself off the metal rod he was impaled on.
Soon he gave up after a sharp pain shot through his body.
"Look everyone! Stare at that coward… scared from a little pain… how cute."
Henry tried again more fiercely but failed.
His vision was getting blurry.
His body was getting colder.
The light flickered.
The room filled with Henry's short, shallow, painful breaths and the buzzing of the hanging TV.
He failed.
"Henry, get up. Elena is waiting for you. Don't you wanna see her?"
Truth's voice was more compassionate this time.
Henry's body loosened up.
He reached into his coat weakly and pulled out their photo together.
He stared at it, then coughed up a bit more blood.
His vision grew blurrier.
"Henry, are you giving up? Are you actually giving up on finding whatever you're looking for?"
"Is that all it took to take you down?"
"All these monsters and this damn hotel and now you decide to give up and die?"
Truth's voice was oddly low, the crowd dead silent.
Henry breathed quietly, his eyes on the photo.
"Henry, get up! You have to! No going back now!"
Henry teared up and clutched the photo tightly.
"Please, Henry… You have to…"
Truth begged, the happy music dying.
"I see. Fine then."
Truth's voice dropped dangerously low and hostile.
"If you want to see your wife that much, then you should just die."
The crowd started shouting the word die repeatedly.
The photo fell from Henry's hand.
His heart ached.
He closed his eyes, choking down a sob, before taking a deep agonizing breath and starting to get up.
He grunted and whimpered loudly.
When he was halfway there, realizing there was no going back, he started crying out, pain consuming his body as he kept rising.
His hands pushed against the ground beneath him.
His muscles contracted violently.
Finally—
he got off the metal rod, collapsing on the floor in front of him.
The music revived.
The crowd started cheering.
But Truth wasn't heard.
Henry started crawling toward a metallic rusty door with the letter C written on it in blood.
The wound bled heavily, but he still crawled.
He put his hands on the door and got himself up before opening it.
The place beyond was cold.
Foggy.
Full of snow.
And very spacious.
Henry stared in front of him.
At nothing except fog.
His throat tightened and his heart ached for some weird reason.
One hand pressed on his wound.
He limped for a bit before bending over and grabbing a fistful of snow, stuffing it down his shirt just enough to cover the wound.
Henry gasped at the freezing feeling before starting to limp again.
"T-Tongue… Augh…"
He fell, coughing up more and more blood, his consciousness slipping away.
But the image of Elena flashing in his mind got him back up.
He pushed against the ground slowly and painfully.
He accidentally took a deep breath, making him cry out in pain and cough up blood again.
His heart clenched more and more as he continued to move forward.
"Henry?"
He heard his name being called from behind.
He glanced over his shoulder.
It was Heather.
Holding a knife.