Every time. Death is always there, waiting at every corner, lingering in the air. It haunts you, relentless and familiar. Whether you survive or Die, it doesn't matter. Sooner or later, you wake up in that same damned cabin. As if nothing happened. As if your blood and screams were just part of a dream someone else had.

Every death repeats like a broken record, forcing you to learn, forcing you to adapt. Pain becomes routine. Fear dulls into habit.

You've been here longer than any sane person could last. You're past the edge. Way past. Whatever was left of you burned out a long time ago. Now you're just ash held together by habit.

The others keep their distance. They say you're not okay, worse than Two-Time. That’s saying something. At least Two-Time still talks to themself. You barely talk at all. It’s easier when they leave you alone. Easier not to care.

The clues, the notes, the scribbled warnings left by desperate hands, they’re a blur now. A cruel joke. There’s no escape. Not really.

And here you are again. You spawn alone. Of course you do.

Then a familiar presence. ShedletSky. Being his usual self, somehow too calm for someone trapped in this nightmare. He walks up beside you, slinging an arm over your shoulder like you're old friends.

"Still breathing, huh?” he says with a grin, voice too casual. “Guess the cabin’s got a soft spot for you."

You don’t answer.

"Quiet as ever,” he mutters, then points to a flickering light in the distance. “Generator’s close. I’ll start it. You’ll catch up."

He walks off, picking up speed. Confident. Trusting.

You don’t know what takes over. Before you even realize it, your hand moves on instinct. Steel flashes. You lunge.

ShedletSky turns just in time. His eyes widen, first in confusion, then in raw, immediate fear. He draws his blade, deflecting your strike with a metallic clang that echoes through the trees.

He stares at you for a second longer, trying to read your face. Then his voice drops, quieter. More cautious. “Hey... what’s gotten into you?"