Game Over
Pop! Fizzzz! Beer pours out, foamy and deep brown, into a red solo cup. Woooooshhh! Briella’s foundation spews down the side of the wall. Spsssssshhh! Water from the sink flies back at some wasted kid, nailing him between in the temple. Bull’s eye. I spin around in a little circle on the dance floor. God, I’ve got to pee.
In the corner, I lock eyes with a shaking white door. Bathroom. Bingo. Stumbling through a cast of drunk, privileged kids, I pilgrimage my way to the toilet. An awful bass beat pounds in my head over and over. Boom, boom, boom, bo-
BAM! Some kid slams me into the bathroom door.
“Hey, watch it!” I try to exclaim, but all my syllables slur together.
My hand reaches out for the door. It takes me a couple goes to really get a grip, but I twist the door open.
Right in the doorway, a boy pushes another girl against the wall, his lips tugging on hers.
“Oh sorry. I didn’t-“ All my thoughts stop. “Kyle?”
His head snaps toward me. Kyle. The same Kyle with wide blue eyes and a cherry smile and these little dimples that deepened when he grinned. The same Kyle that never failed to make me laugh when I was sad and always had a wild story to tell. The same Kyle that looked at me like I was the only person in the world. The same Kyle I fell in love with four years ago.
Kyle charges toward me. “Baby, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what I was-“
“Nonono,” I murmur, stumbling backwards. “No, I don’t want to hear it.”
“Babe! Please, I wasn’t even gonna-“
The music absorbs me, drowning out Kyle’s cries. I charge over to the makeshift bar and put the closest bottle of alcohol to my lips. One good bottle of vodka and I might just forget my boyfriend was-
“I wanna goooo, May!”
I glance up. Rylee, teetering on her glittery heals, looks at me with glazed eyes. Behind her, Kyle sprints toward us, dodging the dozens of hot, sweaty teenagers loosing control of their bodies.
“Yeah. It’s fuckin’ dead here anyway.”
I toss the bottle over my shoulder. If I’m lucky, it hit Kyle right in his lying ass face.
The party bleeds into the outside. Kids litter front yard doing keg stands and wrestling each other to the ground.
Rylee pulls out her car keys.
“Oh you’re not fucking driving,” I say, yanking her lanyard out of her hands.
“I’m fineeee, May. Serious,” Rylee shouts like the music is still playing.
I shake my head. “Just let me drive.”
The hell if I’m letting us die tonight.
I slide into the drivers seat and turn her car on. Rylee half steps, half falls into shotgun. Her head lull’s to the side.
Rylee opens her mouth, still shouting. “Hey! Where’s Kyle?! Is he coming?!”
“Nope. Saw him with his tongue down some trash girl’s throat.”
The words burn my lips. Now that you said it out loud it really happened.
“Fuck ‘em,” Rylee shouts. “You don’t nee'em. You’re soooo awesome. Any guy should die to date you!”
I put the car in drive and slam on the gas. “Yeah, fuck him!”
Rylee turns up the music in the car. The speakers blast, “The Reckless and The Brave” by All Time Low.
“You know, next year we’re gonna be in college and there will be some sexy New York boy that will make you not even remember Kyle’s name,” Rylee says.
I give a sad sigh. “Yeah... I just... I mean, four years… destroyed in one night.”
“I’m sorry, gurlie. He’s probably just fuckin’ wasted.”
“That doesn’t make it any b-“
“MAY! LOOK OUT!”
A tiny orange cat crosses the street. I jerk the car to the left. The tires screech as the car spins out across the road. I wrench the steering wheel to the other side, but it’s no use.
A large tree grows bigger and bigger in the windshield. Rylee shrieks. I slam on the breaks, but the car propels forward. My body chills. This is really fucking it.
BAM!
Black.
Black.
Black.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
Red lights flash in my eyes.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
Red words dance in front of my eyes.
GAME OVER.
“Remove the sensors from her head.”
“A record best.”
“Eighteen point one seven.”
I blink.
Dark. So dark. So quiet. My head pounds. Oh God, my head pounds. My brain presses on the edge of my skull. Vomit pours out of my mouth and on to my lap. Fuck.
“308 is experiencing nausea.”
Someone’s there. I try to twist around. I can’t move. Maybe I’m paralyzed. Oh God, I can’t be paralyzed.
“Help! Someone help me!” I scream. At least I have my voice.
What the hell even happened? Briella had a party. Everyone went. I remember that. And Kyle kissed that trashy girl. I wish I didn’t remember that. And Rylee and I left. And then there was that cat. That damn cat. I crashed the car. I didn’t want to hit the cat. Maybe I died. Oh God, I can’t be dead.
“HELP!” I scream again.
“Turn on the lights.”
Bright lights flicker on around me, burning my retina. I reel back.
I blink several times, taking in the world around me. The room is white. Too white. I sit in a chair. There’s straps around my arms, legs, and I think my neck. A large monitor or maybe TV thing sits in front of me. Words flash on it: GAME OVER. On the wall facing me is a large glass panel, maybe it’s one of those one way mirrors... from the movies.
A man, in a white lab coat stands several feet away. He walks toward me.
“How are you feeling?”
“Am I dead?” I mumble.
“How are you feeling?” the man repeats.
I want to argue. I want to demand answers. But there’s nothing left inside of me. I need a nap. My head hurts too much. If I could only rip the skin off my scalp to give my brain a little breather.
“I’m tired,” I mutter. “My head pounds. I think I’m gonna-“ Vomit drips out of my mouth and down my neck. “throw up. The restraints... they hurt.”
The man glances at the glass behind him. A wave of human emotion passes through his eyes. Carefully, he walks around me, undoing the restraint on my neck and then the one around my chest. I slump forward, breathing in deeply.
“I’m sorry, I can’t take off the other ones,” he apologizes. “What’s your name?”
What? Shouldn’t they know this already?
“Maybel Easler,” I murmur.
“Hi, I’m Dr. Shay.”
The man- Dr. Shay, a shadow in human form- stares at me, waiting for some sort of reaction.
“Does that name ring any bells?” He asks.
I shake my head. His eyes widen in surprise. He writes something on his clipboard. I crane my neck, desperately trying to read it.
“Is it supposed to?”
Fear rushes through. Maybe this is the bad part of the hospital. The part where they treat injured criminals. Criminals like people who drink and drive and kill their friends. My heart stops. Rylee.
I strain forward in my chair. “Do you know where Rylee is? Is she alive?” There’s a twinge of begging in voice that twists my stomach all wrong.
Recognition flashes in his eyes. “Who’s Rylee?” He says even though it’s clear he already knows knows the answer. He wants me to say it. Why?
“She was in the car with me. I was driving her car.” My face falls. A wave of nausea crawls up my throat. “Listen, I didn’t mean to crash it. I know I shouldn’t have been driving. I know- I know- I just- I couldn’t… I wasn’t thinking.”
“Maybel, what year is it?” He asks flatly.
The air shifts around me. Through the tiny window on the door, I see several dark figures. Fear snakes up my spine. Something is wrong here. Something is very, very wrong.
“2019.”
He scribbles something down on his clip board. “How old are you?”
“Eighteen.”
“Where are you from?”
“Farmington, Illinois.”
“Your parents names?”
“David and Victoria Easler.”
He continues to write. “Do you have any siblings?”
“Lidia Easler. She’s fourteen.”
“Maybel, do you recognize this boy?”
Dr. Shay holds up a picture of a little boy, maybe four. He has wispy brown hair that’s just a bit too long.
“No,” I say truthfully.
Dr. Shay shakes his head. “No, you know him.”
I stare at the boys face blankly. “I’ve never seen him before.”
“Nova Trecken. That’s his name.”
My hands start to tremble. I clench them into fists.
“I don’t know who that is. Really, I think you must be confused. I’m just some kid from-”
“Eight years ago this boy died because of you.”
I shake my head almost violently. “Nonono, I didn’t kill anyone. I would never. I never killed anyone.”
Dr. Shay moves the photo closer to my face. “Yes. You did. You killed him in cold blood and then you laughed.”
I look around me in panic. There’s nothing in this room. No bed. No monitors. No medical supplies. It’s not a fucking hospital. The figures in the window still stand silently, watching… waiting.
“Where am I?” I ask, horror mounting in my chest.
“You’re already know.”
I shake my head again. “I don’t know. I don’t know. Really. I don’t know anything.”
“Welcome back, Rhea.”
“Maybel. My name’s Maybel.”
“Maybel doesn’t exist.”
My body trembles. “Nonono. I exist. I’m real. I’m a real person!” I scream.
“Are you?"
He’s lying. I know, I know. Tears rush down my face. All the hairs on the back of my neck stand tall.
“I just wanna go home,” I whisper.
“You are home,” he responds too casually. “What’s the last thing you remember, Rhea?” The name drips off his tongue like poison.
I dig my nails into the palm of my hand. That’s pain. Pain I feel because I exist. Because Maybel exists.
“I was driving. Rylee and I were singing. And then there was that cat...” I trail off. “I got into an accident, I think. I didn’t want to kill the fucking cat.”
Dr. Shay props up the picture of the boy- what was his name? Nick or something?- up against the computer.
“Take a look at him. A real long look. When I come back, I want you to tell me what you really remember.”
The chair squeaks as Dr. Shay gets up. He walks out the door by the glass and seems to disappear. The shadow figures move with him.
I stare at the little boy. He looks sweet, but I’ve never even met the kid. They’ve got the wrong person. My heart beats through my blood. I have to get out of fear. Nerves crawl up my arms as I pull on my restraints. Nothing. I bend down and tug on one with my mouth. The metal part pops off, instantly becoming loose. Yes.
Carefully, I wiggle my arm out of the strap. With me free hand, I undo the one on the other arm and both on my legs. I leap to my feet. The ground rushes to my head.
“Woah.”
I steady myself on the table in front of me. I’m about to run, but the boy’s- Nova I remember- little face stares back at me. In a moment of weakness, I grab his photo and fold it into the pocket of my jeans. My mouth falls open slightly. I glance down at myself. These are new clothes. I was wearing a dress. That cute navy blue dress. These are jeans and a white long sleeve shirt. Dread fills my stomach. Someone undressed me. Someone put new clothes on me. Like I was some sort of doll. I peak under my jeans. New underwear.
I bite my lip and look around the room. I need to move. I need to be somewhere else. There’s a door by the glass that Dr. Shay walked out of. I won’t go that way unless I have no choice. Behind my chair is another black door. I run over to that one. My legs are numb and tingly as though I haven’t moved in years.
My hand twists on the doorknob. Wind rushes at me. The door just opens. Unlocked. No alarm. Weird. Tentatively, I step through the doorway.
Large skyscrapers loom in front of me. People bustle around the sidewalk. Cars zoom by on the streets.
I turn around. The door I walked out of shuts. It’s attached to a massive, blank building with no sign on it. I start to walk down the street. A sick settles over my body. That was easy. That was really, really easy. Why was it so goddamn easy?
I take a deep breath, inhaling smoke and something else. Nothing is familiar. There’s no signs, no streets I recognize. I could be anywhere. New York, LA, Miami, I have no idea.
On the other side of the street is a small coffee shop. It looks oddly out of place which gives me a strange sense of comfort. I run across the road and dash inside.
The inside is incredibly generic. Like a Starbucks, but a little more homie. I reach into my pockets. No money just a picture of a dead boy. How did that get there? Did I take it? I think I took it. Why the fuck did I do that?
I cut into the front of the line. The barista is a young kid, maybe my age.
“What city is this?” I ask.
He raises his eyebrows in surprise. “Uhhh Seattle.”
My heart skips a beat. That can’t be possible. None of this can be possible.
The older woman orders her coffee next to me. She scans her thumb print on what could kinda be a credit card reader.
My breath shortens. What the hell is that thing? An awful thought creeps into the back of my mind.
“What year is it?” I ask.
A wave of confusion passes over the barista’s face. “2038.”
My mouth falls open. “That’s not possible. It- nonono. It’s not possible.”
“Ma’am are you alright?” He asks somewhere far off.
This all has to be some kind of sick joke. I start to chuckle. Yeah, yeah, yeah. It’s all just one big fucking-
Ding! The door makes a noise as a man charges into the coffee shop. A heavy machine gun swings in his arms. Panic rushes through the crowd of coffee goers. Screams fill the little shop. People duck under tables, sprinting towards the nearest exit.
BAM!
Fire races through my body. Something warm and sticky touches the skin of my chest. I glance down. My white shirt is stained red.
A hazy fog runs over my vision. And then…
Black.
Black.
Reloading…
A screen dances in front of my eyes.
Game Restarting... LEVEL ONE
In the corner, I lock eyes with a shaking white door. Bathroom. Bingo. Stumbling through a cast of drunk, privileged kids, I pilgrimage my way to the toilet. An awful bass beat pounds in my head over and over. Boom, boom, boom, bo-
BAM! Some kid slams me into the bathroom door.
“Hey, watch it!” I try to exclaim, but all my syllables slur together.
My hand reaches out for the door. It takes me a couple goes to really get a grip, but I twist the door open.
Right in the doorway, a boy pushes another girl against the wall, his lips tugging on hers.
“Oh sorry. I didn’t-“ All my thoughts stop. “Kyle?”
His head snaps toward me. Kyle. The same Kyle with wide blue eyes and a cherry smile and these little dimples that deepened when he grinned. The same Kyle that never failed to make me laugh when I was sad and always had a wild story to tell. The same Kyle that looked at me like I was the only person in the world. The same Kyle I fell in love with four years ago.
Kyle charges toward me. “Baby, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what I was-“
“Nonono,” I murmur, stumbling backwards. “No, I don’t want to hear it.”
“Babe! Please, I wasn’t even gonna-“
The music absorbs me, drowning out Kyle’s cries. I charge over to the makeshift bar and put the closest bottle of alcohol to my lips. One good bottle of vodka and I might just forget my boyfriend was-
“I wanna goooo, May!”
I glance up. Rylee, teetering on her glittery heals, looks at me with glazed eyes. Behind her, Kyle sprints toward us, dodging the dozens of hot, sweaty teenagers loosing control of their bodies.
“Yeah. It’s fuckin’ dead here anyway.”
I toss the bottle over my shoulder. If I’m lucky, it hit Kyle right in his lying ass face.
The party bleeds into the outside. Kids litter front yard doing keg stands and wrestling each other to the ground.
Rylee pulls out her car keys.
“Oh you’re not fucking driving,” I say, yanking her lanyard out of her hands.
“I’m fineeee, May. Serious,” Rylee shouts like the music is still playing.
I shake my head. “Just let me drive.”
The hell if I’m letting us die tonight.
I slide into the drivers seat and turn her car on. Rylee half steps, half falls into shotgun. Her head lull’s to the side.
Rylee opens her mouth, still shouting. “Hey! Where’s Kyle?! Is he coming?!”
“Nope. Saw him with his tongue down some trash girl’s throat.”
The words burn my lips. Now that you said it out loud it really happened.
“Fuck ‘em,” Rylee shouts. “You don’t nee'em. You’re soooo awesome. Any guy should die to date you!”
I put the car in drive and slam on the gas. “Yeah, fuck him!”
Rylee turns up the music in the car. The speakers blast, “The Reckless and The Brave” by All Time Low.
“You know, next year we’re gonna be in college and there will be some sexy New York boy that will make you not even remember Kyle’s name,” Rylee says.
I give a sad sigh. “Yeah... I just... I mean, four years… destroyed in one night.”
“I’m sorry, gurlie. He’s probably just fuckin’ wasted.”
“That doesn’t make it any b-“
“MAY! LOOK OUT!”
A tiny orange cat crosses the street. I jerk the car to the left. The tires screech as the car spins out across the road. I wrench the steering wheel to the other side, but it’s no use.
A large tree grows bigger and bigger in the windshield. Rylee shrieks. I slam on the breaks, but the car propels forward. My body chills. This is really fucking it.
BAM!
Black.
Black.
Black.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
Red lights flash in my eyes.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
Red words dance in front of my eyes.
GAME OVER.
“Remove the sensors from her head.”
“A record best.”
“Eighteen point one seven.”
I blink.
Dark. So dark. So quiet. My head pounds. Oh God, my head pounds. My brain presses on the edge of my skull. Vomit pours out of my mouth and on to my lap. Fuck.
“308 is experiencing nausea.”
Someone’s there. I try to twist around. I can’t move. Maybe I’m paralyzed. Oh God, I can’t be paralyzed.
“Help! Someone help me!” I scream. At least I have my voice.
What the hell even happened? Briella had a party. Everyone went. I remember that. And Kyle kissed that trashy girl. I wish I didn’t remember that. And Rylee and I left. And then there was that cat. That damn cat. I crashed the car. I didn’t want to hit the cat. Maybe I died. Oh God, I can’t be dead.
“HELP!” I scream again.
“Turn on the lights.”
Bright lights flicker on around me, burning my retina. I reel back.
I blink several times, taking in the world around me. The room is white. Too white. I sit in a chair. There’s straps around my arms, legs, and I think my neck. A large monitor or maybe TV thing sits in front of me. Words flash on it: GAME OVER. On the wall facing me is a large glass panel, maybe it’s one of those one way mirrors... from the movies.
A man, in a white lab coat stands several feet away. He walks toward me.
“How are you feeling?”
“Am I dead?” I mumble.
“How are you feeling?” the man repeats.
I want to argue. I want to demand answers. But there’s nothing left inside of me. I need a nap. My head hurts too much. If I could only rip the skin off my scalp to give my brain a little breather.
“I’m tired,” I mutter. “My head pounds. I think I’m gonna-“ Vomit drips out of my mouth and down my neck. “throw up. The restraints... they hurt.”
The man glances at the glass behind him. A wave of human emotion passes through his eyes. Carefully, he walks around me, undoing the restraint on my neck and then the one around my chest. I slump forward, breathing in deeply.
“I’m sorry, I can’t take off the other ones,” he apologizes. “What’s your name?”
What? Shouldn’t they know this already?
“Maybel Easler,” I murmur.
“Hi, I’m Dr. Shay.”
The man- Dr. Shay, a shadow in human form- stares at me, waiting for some sort of reaction.
“Does that name ring any bells?” He asks.
I shake my head. His eyes widen in surprise. He writes something on his clipboard. I crane my neck, desperately trying to read it.
“Is it supposed to?”
Fear rushes through. Maybe this is the bad part of the hospital. The part where they treat injured criminals. Criminals like people who drink and drive and kill their friends. My heart stops. Rylee.
I strain forward in my chair. “Do you know where Rylee is? Is she alive?” There’s a twinge of begging in voice that twists my stomach all wrong.
Recognition flashes in his eyes. “Who’s Rylee?” He says even though it’s clear he already knows knows the answer. He wants me to say it. Why?
“She was in the car with me. I was driving her car.” My face falls. A wave of nausea crawls up my throat. “Listen, I didn’t mean to crash it. I know I shouldn’t have been driving. I know- I know- I just- I couldn’t… I wasn’t thinking.”
“Maybel, what year is it?” He asks flatly.
The air shifts around me. Through the tiny window on the door, I see several dark figures. Fear snakes up my spine. Something is wrong here. Something is very, very wrong.
“2019.”
He scribbles something down on his clip board. “How old are you?”
“Eighteen.”
“Where are you from?”
“Farmington, Illinois.”
“Your parents names?”
“David and Victoria Easler.”
He continues to write. “Do you have any siblings?”
“Lidia Easler. She’s fourteen.”
“Maybel, do you recognize this boy?”
Dr. Shay holds up a picture of a little boy, maybe four. He has wispy brown hair that’s just a bit too long.
“No,” I say truthfully.
Dr. Shay shakes his head. “No, you know him.”
I stare at the boys face blankly. “I’ve never seen him before.”
“Nova Trecken. That’s his name.”
My hands start to tremble. I clench them into fists.
“I don’t know who that is. Really, I think you must be confused. I’m just some kid from-”
“Eight years ago this boy died because of you.”
I shake my head almost violently. “Nonono, I didn’t kill anyone. I would never. I never killed anyone.”
Dr. Shay moves the photo closer to my face. “Yes. You did. You killed him in cold blood and then you laughed.”
I look around me in panic. There’s nothing in this room. No bed. No monitors. No medical supplies. It’s not a fucking hospital. The figures in the window still stand silently, watching… waiting.
“Where am I?” I ask, horror mounting in my chest.
“You’re already know.”
I shake my head again. “I don’t know. I don’t know. Really. I don’t know anything.”
“Welcome back, Rhea.”
“Maybel. My name’s Maybel.”
“Maybel doesn’t exist.”
My body trembles. “Nonono. I exist. I’m real. I’m a real person!” I scream.
“Are you?"
He’s lying. I know, I know. Tears rush down my face. All the hairs on the back of my neck stand tall.
“I just wanna go home,” I whisper.
“You are home,” he responds too casually. “What’s the last thing you remember, Rhea?” The name drips off his tongue like poison.
I dig my nails into the palm of my hand. That’s pain. Pain I feel because I exist. Because Maybel exists.
“I was driving. Rylee and I were singing. And then there was that cat...” I trail off. “I got into an accident, I think. I didn’t want to kill the fucking cat.”
Dr. Shay props up the picture of the boy- what was his name? Nick or something?- up against the computer.
“Take a look at him. A real long look. When I come back, I want you to tell me what you really remember.”
The chair squeaks as Dr. Shay gets up. He walks out the door by the glass and seems to disappear. The shadow figures move with him.
I stare at the little boy. He looks sweet, but I’ve never even met the kid. They’ve got the wrong person. My heart beats through my blood. I have to get out of fear. Nerves crawl up my arms as I pull on my restraints. Nothing. I bend down and tug on one with my mouth. The metal part pops off, instantly becoming loose. Yes.
Carefully, I wiggle my arm out of the strap. With me free hand, I undo the one on the other arm and both on my legs. I leap to my feet. The ground rushes to my head.
“Woah.”
I steady myself on the table in front of me. I’m about to run, but the boy’s- Nova I remember- little face stares back at me. In a moment of weakness, I grab his photo and fold it into the pocket of my jeans. My mouth falls open slightly. I glance down at myself. These are new clothes. I was wearing a dress. That cute navy blue dress. These are jeans and a white long sleeve shirt. Dread fills my stomach. Someone undressed me. Someone put new clothes on me. Like I was some sort of doll. I peak under my jeans. New underwear.
I bite my lip and look around the room. I need to move. I need to be somewhere else. There’s a door by the glass that Dr. Shay walked out of. I won’t go that way unless I have no choice. Behind my chair is another black door. I run over to that one. My legs are numb and tingly as though I haven’t moved in years.
My hand twists on the doorknob. Wind rushes at me. The door just opens. Unlocked. No alarm. Weird. Tentatively, I step through the doorway.
Large skyscrapers loom in front of me. People bustle around the sidewalk. Cars zoom by on the streets.
I turn around. The door I walked out of shuts. It’s attached to a massive, blank building with no sign on it. I start to walk down the street. A sick settles over my body. That was easy. That was really, really easy. Why was it so goddamn easy?
I take a deep breath, inhaling smoke and something else. Nothing is familiar. There’s no signs, no streets I recognize. I could be anywhere. New York, LA, Miami, I have no idea.
On the other side of the street is a small coffee shop. It looks oddly out of place which gives me a strange sense of comfort. I run across the road and dash inside.
The inside is incredibly generic. Like a Starbucks, but a little more homie. I reach into my pockets. No money just a picture of a dead boy. How did that get there? Did I take it? I think I took it. Why the fuck did I do that?
I cut into the front of the line. The barista is a young kid, maybe my age.
“What city is this?” I ask.
He raises his eyebrows in surprise. “Uhhh Seattle.”
My heart skips a beat. That can’t be possible. None of this can be possible.
The older woman orders her coffee next to me. She scans her thumb print on what could kinda be a credit card reader.
My breath shortens. What the hell is that thing? An awful thought creeps into the back of my mind.
“What year is it?” I ask.
A wave of confusion passes over the barista’s face. “2038.”
My mouth falls open. “That’s not possible. It- nonono. It’s not possible.”
“Ma’am are you alright?” He asks somewhere far off.
This all has to be some kind of sick joke. I start to chuckle. Yeah, yeah, yeah. It’s all just one big fucking-
Ding! The door makes a noise as a man charges into the coffee shop. A heavy machine gun swings in his arms. Panic rushes through the crowd of coffee goers. Screams fill the little shop. People duck under tables, sprinting towards the nearest exit.
BAM!
Fire races through my body. Something warm and sticky touches the skin of my chest. I glance down. My white shirt is stained red.
A hazy fog runs over my vision. And then…
Black.
Black.
Reloading…
A screen dances in front of my eyes.
Game Restarting... LEVEL ONE