Chapter 9

“...Malva isn't a liar, I was just stupid enough to play along. It’s too late for us now, I need to end this.”

My fingers rub against each other, soft skin sliding against rough chewed-down nails. Lingering phantom pain begins to settle down, allowing my muscles to relax. Not a cut on my previously chapped lips or an ache in my broken nose agonizes me. The ball of shredded muscle that curled on my back and tore apart my nerves leaves not a trace behind. A silence leaves my ears searching for some sort of sound, but can’t find an AC humming or the clicking of fluorescent lights burning out. Hell, I’m not used to being able to hear out of both ears anymore. After Malva blew out my left ear, I never noticed how clear everything used to sound like. I must have only been out for what felt like, at most, a couple of hours.

My moist eyes float open, the top lashes keeping their grip on the bottom ones. A pastel sky displays itself above me, the colors gliding elegantly into different shades. Laying on my back, the ground lets my rejuvenated body sink into it. Of course. Being in my chip makes more sense than magically being cured of all my bodily trauma.

I sit up and examine my hands. They're not nearly as ashy as they were in the lab; for once, they have moisture, but both my gruesome J scar and the tattoo remain. I rotate them and find a red stain that remains, covering the blistering scars on my palms. Is this a blood stain? No, this isn’t right. Why is it here? What is this? Maybe my consciousness is playing tricks on me. I’m guessing this place has something to do with memory, like how I conjured my mother’s knife based on how I remembered it. Is there a possibility that affects how we see ourselves? I can’t be sure. The system for how we appear in our chips is unusual, and no one took the time to explain it, but I’ll get used to it eventually.

I’m not covered in the ashes of the burning lab, either. It’s as though I’ve finally taken a hot shower after months of bathing in that grotesque sink that barely worked in my cell. I’m still fitted with the same old ripped-up pair of jeans and a torn shirt that has been melted onto my skin by drenching sweat.

I shouldn’t be alive right now; that fall should have killed me. I flip through my memories to find anything beyond plunging down the elevator, but everything afterward seems blank. Did I somehow survive? I guess so, or else I wouldn’t be here. Wait, how am I in my chip?

The only way I could get in here was if someone put a tester on me, but the only place where someone could have the technology to do this would be in the facility. Could Malva be running a test on me? No, that’s impossible. I got out, or at least almost got out.

No, I’m being irrational. I just need to recall what happened after the fall. I know something else happened, but it’s although there’s a wall blocking me from remembering. I can’t possibly be trapped down here, right? Or even worse, my body could be dying, and she’s still messing around with my brain. The same way Malva killed Imelda and then put her chip into my head. She wouldn’t need the rest of me to work for her project to function.

I can’t be thinking like this. Everything might be ok. There has to be a rational conclusion to this, but at the same time, Malva experimenting on me is a reasonable answer to my questions. I need to think, need to remember, what happened? Lily fell in the elevator with me. I remember that much. If Malva had retaken control of Lily, she could have easily taken me.

Staring at the sky, it feels like someone could be staring right back at me.

No. I can’t do this anymore; I’m exhausted from being people’s lab rats. Running off isn't an option if Malva still has me captive and Lily is gone. The elevator is broken, and I don’t know the way to the staircase. On top of that, if Malva is running around in Lily’s body, I can’t get her help anymore. She was the only reason I could get as far as I did. Come on. I need a plan to escape this mess as soon as possible. If I wake up and she has me captive, I might not get the chance to come back here again.

There’s got to be something else I can do, some way to escape this madhouse before I lose my mind. Unless I’m already too late. Every time I close my eyes I lock myself in a stare with Annie’s dead eyes. A vision of watching the last spark of her life slip away from her replays in my mind over and over again. Keeping my eyes open isn’t any better, as I’m just met with the blood-stained hands. The feeling of Coroz’s ribs against my blade revibrates through my own bones in a haunting remembrance. A rush of guilt-ridden serotonin runs through my veins as I recall puncturing through his organs and feeling the blood’s warmth cover my skin.

Eyes open.

Eyes closed.

Eyes opened.

Eyes closed.

Both sensations drive my sanity to the verge of snapping.

I just want this to end. Maybe there isn’t a way out. Perhaps if I just end it right now, Malva can’t use me anymore.

I’m not thinking of that, am I? I mean, it’s not too terrible of an option.

I stand up, looking at the lonely horizon. A weight pushes down on me, knowing someone is looking back.

I grip a pointed chef’s knife; just like the other blades, it’s freshly sharpened. The point pushes through my shirt and weaves its way through the fabric until the cold metal touches my skin. That feeling of it pressing against bone strikes a form of fear into my heart that’s both foreign yet too familiar. With a slight adjustment, the blade pulls my skin into a divot between the two bones to lock my aim where it needs to go.

I don’t want to go through this, but if I can escape Malva’s grasp, I will.

The sky is empty, yet there are piercing eyes watching me. Malva will watch her creation go to waste. I’m the only one she has left. Coroz is hopefully just a virus, and Annie’s life slipped from my hand. If I do this, she’ll lose everything she’s been working on.

Good.

This technology is a product of too many lives being taken too soon. A child’s blood was shed, and innocent people were brutally tortured by her tests so that I could stand here. If my only purpose in life is to keep Malva’s little toy intact, then I don’t want to stay. I don’t want to give her the satisfaction of taking my life herself; besides, I’m a dead person as it is. I may as well finalize it on my own terms.

The tip of the cold blade pokes deeper into my side as the fabric tears lightly. Just the idea of inserting it makes me want to go back and rethink, but I can’t keep going like this. I need to do this before I lose my chance.

Tired. I’m so unbearably tired. I just want all of this to stop.

The overwhelming tension of her cold eyes staring at me is suffocating. My subconscious screams at me, telling me any minute I’ll wake up and be pulled into more of her torturous tests. I know I’m going to wake up back in the damn testing room. She’s just waiting for the right moment to rip me out. The longer I prolong this, the more I think. This paranoia is slowly crushing my lungs. It’s as though the air is beginning to close in, and the stare coming from a disconnected location becomes more intense. I keep looking around, hoping to connect with the eyes that grab me by the throat. They have to be somewhere. The eyes that lay on me are inhumane; they glare from behind and spread to somewhere new each time I turn around. They stare down at my every tremble. The test won’t stop; I’m being watched. I just want to watch them back to know I’m not insane.

I strengthen my grip on the handle, causing my hand to shiver and the tip of the knife to pull the skin side to side.

Maybe…things could be different. Could somebody possibly be trying to communicate with me?

No, no, this will never end. This torturous loop of hoping things will improve and only worsen is not a way to live.

I don’t want to live a life like this.

I just want it to end.

“Wait!” someone yells.

I whip around to see Imelda. She holds her hand out, slowly walking towards me. “Kid, please don’t,” she whimpers.

Why? So I keep living in this insufferable hole? So you can survive? You only help me for yourself.

“That’s not true,” she swallows, “You know that’s not true! Don’t let them get into your head like that!”

That’s just the thing. Everyone’s trying to change how I think or how my body works. I don’t even know what thoughts are my own. Between you, Coroz, and maybe even Malva can insert herself into my own head, I feel like I’m going insane. Which thoughts are mine or yours, or those fucking psychopaths? Hell, which actions were even my own?! How do I know you people weren’t secretly puppeteering me from the inside? And I won’t keep living so you can survive a bit longer. I won’t stay to be used by one last person.

“Kid-kid-kiddo, you know…” Imelda takes a deep breath in an attempt to calm the glitches, “You know I never was planning on living this long.” She lifts her hand, showing the fade in her fingertips. Upon closer inspection, hints of code seep their way through the mesh of her leftovers. “I’m not even fully here. I didn’t have a plan, but whenever I can fully…fully die, I will. I only helped you escape because you have a whole life ahead of you.”

Imelda takes a step closer, and I push the knife deeper into my skin, letting blood seep.

What life? A life of nightmares and screaming dead people haunting me? I have a life of coping with the images of a dead child and Malva’s decrepit body decaying before my eyes. I have a life of never being able to forget what it’s like to kill a man with my own hands. The things that I’ve witnessed and endured will never leave me alone. Even now, they flash before my eyes.

“You have a life with your family,” Imelda pleads, “People who are waiting for you to come back. And your life is not based on what you endured or who is waiting for you. There are still things you can experience. You can go to college, find friends, and maybe even a lover. Get a stupid tattoo that you enjoy,” Imelda rolls up her sleeve, finally revealing her forearm sleeve with a nervous giggle. “What about those books you love? There are libraries you’ve never seen.” She slowly steps forward, “Fairs you’ve never been to. Recipes you’ve never tried. Barbeques you’ve never been able to enjoy with everyone you love.”

Tears roll down my face as the blade eases off of my tight skin. Imelda gently touches the handlebar of the knife but doesn’t yank it away from me. “I know it may seem like nothing will get better. Trust me, I know. It might stop the pain, but it will also destroy every chance at having a life of your own. The life you want is still attainable. It may not be perfect, and these things may not go away for a while. But there is a new normal that you can find out there, it’s worth waiting for. Take it from a dead woman; I wish I had the chance you do.”

And if Malva has me? What then?

“She doesn’t. How could she? Remember, fear makes us believe the impossible are possibilities. Please, let go of the knife.”

She’s right. Fuck, she’s right. Of course Malva doesn't have me; there’s no possible way. The eyes still won’t prey off of me, yet I know there’s no one there. They don’t care how often I tell myself it isn’t real; they still keep their grip. The tighter the air, the more I try to reassure myself, the worse it gets. I take a couple of deep breaths and try to reach into the back of my mind; I need to find some reason why I can’t be in a test. The wall in my memory finally comes down. I remember the strangers pulling Lily and I out of the crash; they are the ones who have me. But this doesn't make sense; if it’s not Malva activating me, then who’s got their hands on this technology? No clue, but I know it isn’t her.

What’s wrong with me? I would have never even thought about doing something like this a few months ago. A pressure wraps around my head; I continue to peer over my shoulder to check who is observing me despite knowing no one is there. There’s no one there, yet it’s like Malva has her gun against my head again. I’m panicking over nothing. There’s no one else here besides Imelda and I, but my brain isn’t getting the message.

Why won’t this damn pressure go away?

It’s not real. No one is there.

This isn’t going to go away, is it? I just need to wait until whoever has me can finally pull me out of this nightmare, but there’s no need to take drastic measures, at least not yet. I lift the knife off my torso, tossing it down on the floor.

“Thank you,” Imelda sighs. She opens her arms wide.

I slowly make my way into her arms, sinking into her chest. Somewhat stunned, Imelda gently wraps her arms around me. I wrap my arms around her waist, letting my tears thoroughly pour out of my eyes into her shirt. She holds me tightly in her arms, gently scratching my head as I continue to sob. Imelda shushes me, “It’s ok. You’re ok.”

I don’t want to die. I just wanted the pain to stop. I’m tired, Imelda.

“I know. I know. You’re going to be ok,” Imelda mutters.

She tries to pull me away, but I hold on tighter. I don’t want to let go. I finally found the hug that I’ve needed for so long. It’s heavenly.

Please, don’t let me go.

Imelda sinks into my arms with a light chuckle, “I thought you weren’t a hugging type of person. I guess you never had anyone to hug, huh, kiddo?”

I pull away from her hug with a light smile; she pats my head, “There you go, feeling ok?”

Nodding my head, I create a little bench from the moldable floor for us to sit on. Imelda sits beside me with a sigh as we stare into the empty field. Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath in allowing the tears to stream down my face. Every time I’ve come here, it’s been to fight for my life or panic while trying to understand it. I never noticed how refreshing it was to stop and breathe, feeling the tears dry up in the crisp air. The temperature is always perfect: not boiling hot or freezing cold. Not hot enough where I need to wear the least amount of clothing possible, but not cold enough to where I need a jacket. Just right.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Imelda asks. I look out into the plane, taking in the everlasting colors.

Do you think there’s a wall?

“There isn’t. Trust me, I’ve tried.”

You’ve tried?

“Yep. After Malva pulled my chip out of my head and put it in yours, I woke up here. Of course, throughout the day, I look through your eyes without any control, but at night I just walk. There’s nothing else to do. It’s actually quite peaceful after a long day of feeling the doctors torture you and doing my best to send messages. I just take the time to feel the connection to this crazy world,” she points at her boots connected to the ground, “and just wander. Now that I think about it, I’m practically a robot.”

Imelda awkwardly laughs to herself, and I force out a laugh too. Now that I think about it, it’s more like she’s a cyborg!

“You’re right!” she laughs, “I think your laugh is the closest I’ve been to hearing your voice. Well, besides…let’s not talk about that.” We share one last chuckle until we go silent.

We both sit and watch the colors fade. As I slouch into the bench, this brief moment of peace makes me realize something. I never truly got to know Imelda, did I? We met in a horrific situation where every moment was filled with fear and panic, so I suppose we’ve never had a human conversation. There’s never been a moment where we stopped and talked.

I look at her and think, what if we just…talked for once?

Hi. How are you?

Imelda giggles, “I’m actually doing-doing-doing! …ok. Yeah. I-I’m doing ok. How are you?”

I’m…doing ok as well. And maybe one day I’ll be good. As I stare out at the colorful sky, I wonder, Imelda, what’s your favorite color?

“My-my! favorite color?” she asks.

Yeah. What is your favorite color?

“That is a good question. I guess,” she ponders for a bit, watching the colors change. “There’s a certain periwinkle blue that comes by that always brings me joy. Hang on.” She points at the sky, and right as the color passes, she exclaims, “There! That one! That’s my favorite color! How about you?”

Me? A nice dark orange. Not anywhere near brown, but not neon. I stare up at the ever changing sky, tapping Imelda’s shoulder and putting her attention up. Awaiting for the right moment, I await the transition as it goes from green to yellow and finally points up when the right shade of orange passes by.

“Y-yep! That seems like the right color for you,” Imelda chimes. Another moment of silence passes, until she breaks the silence by saying, “You know I was planning on wrapping my Jeep with that color. The orange.”

You have a Jeep?

“Yeah! I-I-I actually like off-roading,” she says with a slight tint of embarrassment.

Oh wow! I’ve always wanted to go!

“You should do it one day! It’s quite the experience. Do you like hiking?”

I’ve actually never gone. Growing up I was more of an indoors kid, except for when my parents needed help with the farm.

“Oh, interesting. Yeah, I can’t relate, I couldn’t sta-stand! Being indoors as a kid. I was the type of kid that was always rolling around the mud and probably getting in trouble somewhere. Hey! Wanna know a secret?"

Yeah?

"I actually used to s-steal a whole bunch from stores."

No you didn’t! I refuse to believe that.

“I did! I would go to self-checkout and make it look like I was scanning stuff. I would say a solid one-fourth of what was in my cart went unscanned.”

Wow. What was the biggest thing you’ve stolen then?

“What? You think I was pulling a heist?” Imelda lightly laughs and ponders for a bit. “Probably…a salad.”

Really? A salad was the biggest thing you’ve stolen?

“No-n-no! Wait! I take that back! When I was a teen, maybe 15 or 16, there was a car crash near my house, and I was there before the police. So, I stole the stop sign that fell off.”

No way!

“Yes way! Had it in my room for years!!”

Holy shit! You were so much more adventurous than me when you were a teen.

“Oh come on, your childhood probably had something cool. You like reading, right?”

Yeah, I mainly like reading fantasy.

“There you go! You were adventurous, just in your imaginary worlds! I think it’s cool that you can just go through books quickly. I swear, I’ve never fully read a book.”

Really? What about in school?

“Nope, just read the chapter summaries and absolutely bullshitted my way through English."

We both laugh, knocking our arms against each other.

Her memories re-spark some of my own, and for the next couple of hours are spent bouncing endless stories back and forth with each other. There is no moment of silence between when one story ended and another began. I listen to her crazy stories, from backing away from a mountain lion to nearly getting bitten by a rattlesnake. As she tells these tales, her memories play back as my own. I feel her terror yet excited adrenaline as she runs into a dangerous animal. My favorite feeling was her enthusiasm when a plane landed somewhere new. Every place looked so different than the last; such as India, Peru, Croatia, and Germany. The only thing that stayed consistent was the smile she saw on the window's reflection.

Between those stories, I tell her about the books I’ve read. I guess I’m a good storyteller, as she becomes invested in my retellings of the characters that feel so real to me. I recreate my machete and pillars to act out my favorite action scenes, pretending to be the hero striking the villain down. Imelda claps and cheers at the end of every scene like she’s watching Broadway.

She gasps with violent glitches as I reveal to her the big plot twists, and we grow beloved connections to these characters. Hatred towards the villains and love towards the hero grew as I continued to show my opinions of them. Some stories were more complex as we argued about whether or not the villains were right for what they did.

After hours upon hours of storytelling, we once again sit down on the bench. Stories still run through our heads as we get our last couple of laughs from them, and the world goes silent. Imelda looks at me as we go quiet with a glimmer in her eyes. She pats me on the shoulder and says, “Thank you.”

For what?

“For reminding me of the full life I had. I may be dying, and I won’t deny it, it’s sad, but I think…I think I’m ok with how my life ended. It may not have been long, and I never saw myself grow old, but I lived. Every adventure that was offered to me, I took it and experienced it to the fullest extent. Even the small adventures, like the morning coffees at cafes or trying to cook something new. And because of that, I think I’m ok with dying. If I am suddenly no longer here, just know that I am satisfied with my life.” Her lips curl as she tries to keep hold of the smile, “I only have one regret.”

What’s that?

“Not meeting you sooner. You’re a great kid, and I wish I could stay longer to give you more guidance in life. I want to stay to watch your milestones, even if we don’t see each other too often. Maybe we could have been friends in another life where we both had our own bodies.”

Her expression slowly sours. She looks down at her glitched hands, pondering whether to let the thought out. Eventually, with a deep sigh, she looks over at me and coughs out, “Jada, when you were asleep, Coroz stayed around me for a couple of hours.”

My heart sinks into my stomach.

Are you ok? Did he do anything to you?

“No, no, n-no.” Imelda says, “He didn’t hurt me. I-I’m ok; I’m mainly worried for you.”

Why?

“He said that if your chip is plugged in again, like now, he’ll come back. He didn’t mention for what or why, but he was pretty pissed.”

What else did he say? Imelda goes quiet, breaking eye contact with me. Are you really going to tell me that’s all he said after being here for hours?

“It’s best if you don’t know,” she mumbles.

Really? Now you’re hiding stuff from me too?

“Jada, I want to be honest with you. Believe me, I do. It’s just I don’t want you to get hurt.”

You’re going to get me hurt if you leave me in the dark.

“No, listen kid-”

Imelda. Tell me!

“I ca-ca-can’t” she yells “He confirmed some of my suspicions. If I told you this, you could be in danger. Trust me when I say I’m trying to protect you.”

How?! How am I still in danger if we’re out of the facility?

“Kid,” she sighs, “I know how everything started. Remember that ‘deal’ Lily mentioned when she found out I’m in your chip?”

Yeah?

“I’m not going to tell you exactly what it was because it might put you on someone’s blacklist, but I will say that if you have a chance to learn what it is without Lily figuring it out, take that chance.”

Lily? Why would Lily be a danger to me? I guess that’s for me to learn one day if we ever reencounter each other.

“But that’s not important at this very moment,” Imelda continues, “Coroz is alive and…I’m not sure what he’s up to, but my best guess is he’s probably going to chase you down because of…”

Yeah.

“Yeah.”

I feel so stupid for not noticing this earlier, but that’s probably why he went into my chip when I took that nap in Lily’s room. He was transferring his consciousness to find some way of getting out. Imelda was right, Coroz set up some sort of plan a while back, and I didn’t change anything. Well, I did. I just gave him more of a reason to kill me.

“There’s not much we can do right now, kiddo,” says Imelda. “It’s just good to keep an eye out in case he pops up.”

She’s right. I don’t want to think about it; instead, let me enjoy this quick break while it lasts. Wait, how long has Imelda been in here?

Imelda sighs, “Well. I don’t know exactly how long it’s been. A night in the facility usually lasts only twenty minutes here, but I’ve been strolling along for hours now. Maybe even days.”

Wow. I guess I’m not just taking a light nap; how long would that be out in the real world? I couldn’t imagine Imelda’s life of aimlessly walking around in this endless abyss and then watching my life unfold without control. It sounds pretty miserable if you ask me. No wonder Imelda mentioned that she wasn’t planning on getting out of here, but I think that’s a bit hypocritical if you ask me. She’s always talking about my family and all the memories I need to make with them. What about her? Doesn’t she still have a husband out there waiting for her?

“I do,” she says, “I can still read your thoughts.”

Oh, sorry, I forgot you can hear me. What about him?

“What about him?” she asks back.

What was he like?

With a deep sigh, she begins, “He’s the love of my life. Well, he may as well have been my entire life. I was in the army, and he was the only thing on my mind throughout the hard times. Coming home to Jay was the only thing I needed in life. He had a smile that could light up the whole room and a bright laugh that brought joy to anyone he met. I swear he had an imagination that could paint a million paintings, but he was dumb enough to fall for a dork like me. I…I love him so much.”

A clear image of her husband appears in my head. Jay is a charming man with long curly hair that was always in an imperfect ponytail. There would always be a curl or two that would escape from the tie, but he didn’t mind it. He never went for a clean look, as his round face always had a strong shadow of a beard that he attempted to maintain. She’s right; his smile is indeed bright with his imperfect teeth. The tiny gap between his two front teeth and his bridged nose beautifully arranged his face.

I-I’m sorry you never were able to have kids. I know you wanted to try again when you got back.

“That’s alright,” Imelda sighs. A slight smile finds its way to her face. She gives me a light nudge on the shoulder, “I had you for a couple of months. That’s all I could ask for.”

Imelda doesn’t quite remind me of my mom, but definitely reminds me of my dad. No wonder why I’m so comfortable around her.

“You know what, kid?” She stands up. “I won’t be here forever, so at least let me teach you one thing. Stand up.”

I stand up, and she puts her hand out.

“Punch my hand,” she says, clapping her palm, “Come on!” I gently punch her hand, and she shouts, “No! Punch it! I’m going to teach you how to punch!”

Why?

“Because you’re terrible at it. We haven’t had this time before. From what I've seen, you at least need to be taught this. If you end up going against Coroz again, and if I’m not here, I want you to be able to defend yourself. Now come on!”

I try to punch her hand harder, missing and losing my balance. She grabs me by the back of my shirt and puts me on my feet.

“Nope, ok,” Imelda says “Come on.” She stands next to me, putting one foot in front of the other. “You need to keep a stable stance like this.”

I mirror her stance, adjusting my knees till there is a sense of stability. She gives me a quick one-handed shove, watching me only slightly stumble before re-taking the stance.

“See?” she says “A lot better.” Imelda grabs my shoulders, shifting them to be parallel with my hips. “This is a good stance right here. Now try again!” she puts up her hand. I go for the punch, feeling my whole back get pulled into the movement.

“Harder.” Imelda commands.

I punch again, putting more of my weight into it.

“Harder! I know you can hit harder!” She yells.

I let out a grunt as I punch her hand with all my strength.

“Better! Ok, let’s get a…can you make a pillar?”

Conjuring a sturdy pillar, I once again begin to mirror her steps and begin punching it. Pillar after pillar, I continue practicing my aim and strengthening my hits upon the inanimate object. Imelda eventually steps in front, putting out a flat palm. With a deep breath, I allow my whole body to be pulled into the movement as I land a clean hit on her hand.

“Stop pulling your punches,” Imelda says, standing next to me and demonstrating the stance in slow motion, “You need to follow through! Get one of those teeth out of that bastard’s mouth!” she jokes. Imelda stands in front of me, putting out her hand again. I follow her instructions, landing the blow and pushing all the way through. “Nice!” she cheers, giving me a fist bump. “Can you make a knife for me?” she questions.

I conjure up a small pocket knife I used to use from my papa’s garage.

“Alright! You gotta know how to use a knife! These guys are your best friends from letting this happen to you again,” she nods her head towards my scarred hand and grabs the knife away from me. “The x is your best friend! If you’re panicking and you just need something quick, x pattern is the way to go!” Imelda brings the blade over her left shoulder and down to her right hip in slow motion. “You try it!”

She hands me the knife, and I repeat the pattern into a pillar, leaving thick gashes and finally stabbing it in and letting the entire thing melt.

“Awesome job! Now when it comes to stabbing-“

Someone behind me slowly claps their hands, sending a shiver down my spine. It’s not Imelda; I’m looking right at her. We’re not alone.

“Looks like cha’ gonna’ kick my ass!”

Imelda was right. I hoped Coroz was bluffing to get us nervous, but he never gives an empty threat.

“Welcome back, Jada.”

Imelda whips around with a gasp; I look in that same direction. Behind me stands Coroz, his suit just as clean as I saw it last time. However, something’s different. Upon a closer look, his fingertips have a familiar glitch, and his hair moves with traces of double images.

Sweat begins to drip down my forehead, my breath stolen from my lungs. The corner of Coroz’s mouth hints at a Cheshire smile, and his calmness shakes me down to the core.

“Ya’ have no idea how long I’ve waited to see ya’ again,” he says with a grin. His steps are meticulous, coming toward me at an angle. I pull out my machete again, ready for whatever he has planned. “It’s been a long four months.” He takes a long forward, and I take a step back to keep a distance; his smirk stretches wider as he strolls to a stop. “And let me say I’ve done a lot of thinking during ya’ nap.”

Four months? Have I been out for four months?! There’s no way! I was only out for a couple of hours, but I suppose that explains why I was able to survive. That elevator fall was brutal, maybe even severe enough to put me into a coma, so if he’s not lying, I must be hospitalized. That still doesn't explain why someone activated my chip. I terraform the ground below me to write: ‘What is the date?’

His fingers roll around his gold chain as he strolls parallel to where I’m standing, not closing the distance between us. He snickers playfully; he scans me up and down as his mischievous brain ponders up another sly remark. “It’s Septemba’ twenty-eighth. Oh! By the way, thanks for the chip ride. A bit of a rough landin’, but at least we didn’t die.”

I sarcastically lip his words back at him, pointing the machete at his face.

“I’ve been jumpin’ around for quite a bit, ya’ know, livin’ other people’s lives and watchin’ the world around me change. I understand why Malva was fightin’ for power over Lily; it’s pretty fun running around in someone else’s flesh suit, and ya’ gotta answer to nobody. Hell, sometimes when people start catchin’ on that their friend has been actin’ a bit ‘different,’ I just gotta, ya’ know,” he runs his thumb across this throat, imitating the sound of a cut. With one big step, he stumbles around a bit, laughing to himself before regaining balance.

Is this how he’s been able to stay alive? Living in people’s consciousness like Imelda is doing in mine and then killing them?! Coroz’s chip was successful, and his consciousness was intact when he transferred, so he must have much more control than Imelda. No, no, no. I didn’t help all those people just for Coroz to use them as a twisted game! This can’t be happening. No, he has to be lying. Please be lying.

“Don’t worry! Most of the ones that I go for are the ones that are probably gon’na finish themselves anyway; so, It’s not like I’m changin’ a whole lot in their lives.”

Shut up. Please just shut up. Someone has to be tracking this murder spree, but Coroz said it himself in the facility. Most people would call his victims’ deaths suicide. I can’t listen to this. Just shut up.

“I think before comin’ here, I was on my second body. I just feel kinda bad for not being able to let ‘em live; but, ya’ got’ta do what cha’ got’ta do. I don’t want my name in people’s mouths again; it just sucks that those poor bastards got’ta suffer a bit. I've got’ta make their death long enough to get out and go to the next, so an excellent knife would usually do it.”

Shut up! A large spike forms from the ground, racing towards him like a bullet. He swiftly moves to the side, overpowering my control of the terrain, and pushes it down. I bring up another one, but each attempt grows at most an inch.

Without a second thought, I raise my machete but do not see my blade. Instead, it replaced itself with a familiar revolver. Feeling the cool metal press against my warm skin, I try to hold down the overwhelming panic engrossing me. My arm mechanically takes aim for Coroz’s head, a direct shot just like the test in the cafeteria.

A sudden rage overwhelms me, one I have only ever felt once before. My mind begins to invert on itself, as all reason goes out the window, and there is only one thought above the haze of rage.

I despise him. No, I hate him.

Make him suffer.

He looks at me right through the gun barrel and…smiles? No, he begins to laugh.

Make him suffer.

“It don’t work like that!”

Make him suffer.

“You gon’na try and shoot me? Good lu-“

I pull the trigger.

Awaiting the loud explosion from the gun, my breath gets caught in my throat as the room goes silent. I pull it again, watching the gun flicker with glitches every time I pull the trigger. Coroz stands on the other side of the barrel with a look of shock on his face.

“Wow! You…you actually tried it. Huh! Twice! Twice now, you’ve tried to kill me! Unless…third? Maybe? Well, who’s keepin’ count?” The floor begins to engulf me up to my ankles, and a sudden chain of flickering glitches spring from the ground to restrain me by the wrists. A third one comes up from behind to clench the back of my neck. “Ya see, you’s gotta have the memory of firin’ a gun in order to re-create it!” Coroz says as he pulls the gun out of my hand. As he steps closer, I struggle to remove the restraints, but it’s no use. “I didn’t come here to kill ya’ or anythin’. I just wanted a friendly talk, but…maybe a little change of pace would be fun.”

“Let her go!” Imelda yells, taking a fighting stance.

“Oh! Imelda! I almost forgot about ya’!” Coroz jokes. A spike launches behind Imelda, stabbing her through her shoulder and raising her from the ground. Imelda’s boots’ connection to the land extends as Coroz lifts her, keeping her attached. I struggle and try to overpower the restraints, but it’s no use. I haven’t been practicing as long as Coroz has; he knows how to control it rather than having random outbursts like me. He points another spike at Imelda’s neck, asking, “I forgot to ask ya’! Did you give her the bright idea? Because I know, oh I KNOW she ain’t got the guts to just start stabbin’ people out of the blue.”

Imelda and I lock eyes. Please, don’t do it. I don’t know why I did that, or what made me do it, but whatever agenda he has is with me. It's between us. Imelda, please don’t pay for my mistake.

“Yes,” Imelda whimpers, trying to pry herself off of the stake, “And you deserved it…you bastard!” As she yells the final word, her voice gives off the ear-bleeding screech of a feedback loop; yet, Coroz doesn’t flinch at all.

“Oh, that’s cute,” Coroz beams, “You know, I’ve been waitin’ for a beautiful day like this since ya’ left me in that god-forsaken cell. Do ya’ have ANY idea how much I had to deal with since you fuckin’ abandoned me?!” In a similar fashion, Coroz’s voice screeches in a horrific feedback loop louder than Imelda’s. A hint of a laugh is hidden between the feedback of his yell as the ground around him reverberates in a sudden quake.

Imelda says, “I did-did-didn’t want-”

A second spike goes through her other shoulder, causing another glitched screech to reverberate through the air.

“No. No, no, no, we are not playin’ this game. I think it’s time the devil on her shoulder finally gets a taste of the action!” Coroz turns around and meets my eyes, then lifts Imelda even higher.

What is he doing? Coroz reaches out to the side of his hip and, within a blink of an eye, a sudden switchblade appears out of thin air. His knuckles become a pale white as he grasps it and rapidly cuts the laces on her combat boot to rip it off. Another pillar grapples her foot and pulls it down, causing Imelda to scream in agony as the pulling only puts more pressure on the stakes through her shoulder.

Imelda looks over at me and cries, “I’ll be ok! Don’t worry I’ll be-“

In one foul swipe, the sound of Coroz’s blade slashing through her Achilles tendon verberates through the space, his knife splashing droplets of geometric digital blood on his collar and cheek. Imelda cries out in pain, her screams clashing with my cries for mercy. Her foot restraint suddenly tugs as I watch the tendons exposed by the gashing cut begin to snap and hang loose out of the wound.

With a snap of his fingers, Coroz releases Imelda from the restraints, watching her flop onto the floor. Imelda tries to get up, but her whole body glitches in violent and jagged movements. With a deep breath she attempts to pull her torso up, only for Coroz to crash his foot into her spine, causing her to wheeze the remaining air out of her body.

A boisterous cackle overpowers her cries as Coroz grabs her hair with his blood-covered hand and asks, “You’ll be what?” His head whips around, glaring at me with a grin painted in red. “Now you.”

My heart pounds out of my chest. Imelda! No! I try to get out of the restraints, but he only pulls them tighter. “Hey! Don’t touch her! You’re pissed at me, right? Is this all you got?!” ” Imelda begs.

He wipes the small pocket knife on his sleeve, “Nah, I ain’t done.”

Coroz gently grabs my right arm, Imelda whimpers, “No. Please, no!” She crawls her way over with tears on the edges of her eyes.

I struggle to get out, but it only causes my muscles to tense up. The knife glides across my forearm, Coroz’s thumb pressing down with barely enough pressure to cut me. The cold blade follows along the side of my neck, applying more pressure as it gets up to my cheek, slowly tearing its way through my skin to leave a gashing cut. I try to pull myself away, but the neck restraint holds me in place. His wide grin pinches his eyes as the switchblade picks its way out of my skin and returns to my arm.

“Juarez, now that’s an interesting name,” he says.

Something inside me breaks; he shouldn’t be able to know my last name. I went out of my way to ensure no one in the facility could know it. Not even Lily knows. It’s not on a single file or paper in that entire hellhole. He must have stolen it from somewhere. “Jada Juarez, it’s a bit smoother than Camila Juarez. Wouldn’t cha’ agree?”

My sister’s name in his mouth makes my blood boil.

“Oh, but what I find most interesting is that cha’ tried-” His switchblade goes back to my bicep, and in one violent swing, it plunges into my strained muscle. “Ta’ kill me!” He slowly drags the blade through my flesh, cutting against the grain of my tendons, causing a shocking pain to rush from my arm all the way down my spine. I try to hold in the screams that clog my throat, but my tense muscles feel as though they will snap any minute.

“No! Leave her alone, please!” Imelda cries, reaching out from the puddle of blood.

“Did cha’ think I would forget that?!” The blade twists inside the cut, shredding the wound until the blade is parallel to my muscles. “Of course not! I’ve been waitin’ for the day I could return the favor,” Coroz cackles. The blood-covered blade comes out of my arm and pierces its way through the warm blood to lightly poke me just below my chin, forcing me to look into Coroz’s sadistic grin. “Oh, it’s disgusting what the public does to the so-called ‘heroes’ in our world.” He pulls it away from my face only to plunge it into the same arm, just a couple of inches closer to my elbow. Imelda’s cries for mercy are a second thought behind the blinding pain. Coroz wraps his hand around my previous gash, allowing the blood to pour between his fingers. Every pain receptor fires at once as my arm becomes blazing hot from the pressure of his grasp. “The hospitals won’t let anyone see the bodies or visit the comatose patients, so everyone’s sendin’ flowers. Actin’ like ya’ Jesus makin’ his second round on earth.”

He lightly grips my other arm with his moist hand and yanks the blade out of my bicep, causing my vision to become a piercing white for a moment before I realize the hyperventilation causing my head to go light. It’s as though my arm is on fire, as every nerve pinches and fires in a chaotic sequence.

Coroz begins to run the blade across my other arm. The fresh blood leaves a line from my wrist up to my bicep and lightly smears it with his thumb. “It’s so funny, they already treat cha’ like ya’ some sorta’ hero, but if ya’ died in that fire, they’d make ya’ a goddess.”

He slowly drills the blade into my forearm, twisting it back and forth to create a gaping hole. My throat pushes out a whimper as tears flow down my face.

“Everyone knows the quickest way to have ya’ name plastered on every post and every mural is if ya’ die an ‘unexpected’ death. Everyone would praise ya,’ and only the people who were actually stuck in that damn lab would know why. All those other people would just copy in their footsteps to make themselves look like they care. For fucks sake, my brotha’ didn’t care ‘bout me when he ran off from my shitty fatha’s house that night; but now that he knows I’m dead, he’s constantly cryin’ and is settin’ up this big funeral. Actin’ like he cared about me the entire time! The only bad part of all that fame is it’s unbelievably obnoxious how no one wants to know who ya’ really are.” He quickly takes the knife out and swipes it next to my elbow; my throat forces out a louder whimper, but I keep my mouth closed to hold it in. “Oh, no one wants to look at the other side of the hero. No one looks at what you did to me and how ya’ failed to save that poor little kid.”

“But you saved other lives,” Imelda interrupts. She’s stopped trying to crawl, letting her leg bleed out into the trail she left behind.

“Ya’ see?” Coroz grins, “Your image is too perfect to ruin, but no one would listen even if the news did get out!” He swipes another cut closer to my wrist, sending the air out of my lungs “Ya’ can’t get vengeance at the dead person, so why get pissed if there’s no one to blame? Ya’ got anything to say about that? Huh? Or better yet, anything ya’ wanna say to me?” He grabs my face and puts the blade against my neck, “C’mon, spit it out.”

I try to mold the ground, but it gets pushed down by him. “Oh no, no, no, I want to hear you say it.”

My blood pressure rises from the overwhelming rage that rushes through my veins, making the cuts bleed at an unbelievable speed. Is this anger? Or this this terror? What’s the difference at this point? What flows through me is a rush of an abomination between rage and fear that drives my mind beyond insanity. Oh what I would give to drive his switchblade into the slot of the scar of his throat for even attempting to pin this on me. I wasn’t the cause of Annie’s death; I know I wasn’t. He was the one who brought her to the lab in the first place, and he wants to pin her death on me?

I don’t want to kill this man again. No, he got out too easily last time. I want to watch him suffer and bleed at my feet. Oh, to be back in that cell where I had mauled his body. I wish I could’ve taken the time to make sure he felt every last cut I left upon him and for him to have felt the embarrassment of being powerless with his life in my hands. I would give anything to be out of these restraints and to cut him down from the high horse he thinks he’s on. If I had to say anything to this abomination that calls himself a man, I know exactly what is on my mind.

With a tremble in my breath, I look him in the eyes and state with a crack in my rusted voice, “Go fuck yourself.”

Coroz turns around and looks at Imelda in the eyes, “Oh, would’ya’ look at that?”

With a laugh, he swipes the blade behind my knee. A scream shoots out of my mouth as the warm blood from the cut drips down my leg. My whole body attempts to fall, but the arm restraints leave me hanging, the pressurizing weight from my body pushing down on the gashing cut.

“The mute talks,” he snickers as more tears fall down my face.

The switchblade quickly swipes three more cuts into the bicep of my other arm, making the tension in them insufferable. “Did ya’ even try to wake up? ‘Cause I don’t think ya’ noticed it yet.”

I completely forgot the wake-up option on the menu; why didn’t I think of that!? I need to get out of here now. My body can’t take this anymore. My fingers flick to go to the menu, and my heart skips a beat.

I can't be looking at this right. This can’t be happening; the “Wake” option is gone.

“Of course,” chuckles Coroz, “I don’t think they’re trying to pull ya’ out; it’s impressive to watch how much they use ya’ without cha’ even noticing.” In one quick motion, he leaves two gashing cuts on the back of both my calves and releases me from the restraints.

My whole body falls limp on the soft floor, every movement makes the cuts agonizing, and the bloody puddles beneath me grow faster. I begin to crawl towards Imelda, but Coroz stands in my path. He gets down on one knee and brings the knife to the bottom of my chin, pointing my head to look at his smirk. “Ya’ did so much to help those poor people, and this is how she returns the favor? Keepin’ ya in this hell while they continue playin’ with their toy? I’m not surprised. And ya’ don’t even notice because she’s messed around ya’ head good enough to make ya’ believe she’s ya’ friend. You're almost pitiful.” He quickly leaves a small cut under my chin. I instinctively go to cover it, but instead my arm goes limp. My brain sends the signal to somehow move my arm, and the disconnected flesh and muscle twitch in the exposed world in hopes of moving. Every fiber tenses and relaxes to imitate the puppeteering of my hand, sending an agonizing sting from my arm into my lungs. Upon seeing the shredded exposed muscle, my stomach begins to twist as I hold down the puke urging to leave my body.

Everything within me screams to get up and fight back, but all my body can do is lay limp on the ground and let the cuts bleed me dry.

Imelda reaches her arm out, her eyes a burning red and the tears still falling, whispering, “I’m here.”

Coroz flicks his fingers to bring up the menu, clicks “transfer,” and looks down at my aching body. “I’ve had my fun, but I think I should get out of here before they toss ya’ back into ya’ nap. Till next time.”

He presses the number “108” and, in the blink of an eye, disappears. I try to stand up, but the furthest I can get is crawling on all fours.

“Stop,” Imelda cries, “You’re only going to bleed more.”

Imelda, don’t die.

“I still have-have-have!” her whole body spasms in one large glitch, and as she catches her breath, she finishes, “Time. I still have time. Don’t worry about me.”

Everytime I scream at myself to get up, the loose tendons in my body pull to form some kind of movement to the disconnected portions of my legs and arms. Even the most minor movements creates an agonizing shock to strike through my body, leaving me heaving for the pain to stop. My eyes begin to grow heavy, but I can’t tell if it’s general exhaustion or lightheadedness from all the blood I’m losing. I’m not going to fight it, though. There’s no use in staying awake if I’m just going to be in agony as I bleed out, so I let myself relax. The soft ground molds around my body as I try to fall asleep. My veins beat with my heart, tender skin senses every drop of warm blood that drips down my arm. I don’t know where I’m going to go once I fall asleep, but I hope it’s better than this. I just hope Imelda will be ok once I get back. My eyes shut, and I instantly fall into a deep slumber.

After sleeping a few hours, my eyes open again to the pastel sky. The cuts that ran alongside my arms and legs feel nonexistent, and the puddles of blood that soaked me before are dried up. I sit up, looking into the infinite field, trying to get my footing on reality; I’m still in my chip. My previously tormented body is now uncomfortably healed; there’s not a single cut or scar left on my body from Coroz. How long have I been out? Last time I thought I was only out for a couple of hours, and it ended up being months, so I’m scared to learn how long it’s been now.

“You’re back!” Imelda cheers. I turn around with a smile but don’t see her. Something touches my barefoot; I look to see Imelda sitting on the floor with her legs crossed.

What are you doing down there?

She moves her legs a bit to reveal a puddle of blood staining her pants, “Well, I prefer sitting over laying on my face. After Coroz cut my Achilles tendon, I haven’t been able to walk. But the bleeding finally stopped, so that’s good!”

What? Why haven’t you healed?

“Oh, well, I suppose it’s because I’m a virus. When you are unconscious without a tester on, you're just resting, so your consciousness has time to recover.”

Oh, and you don’t?

“Unfortunately, no. I’m always conscious, so I have no time to rest.”

Does that mean Coroz is the same way?

“I don’t believe so.”

Why?

“He’s…different than I am.”

How so?

“Well, from what I could gather it seems like he’s…well, he might be killing people’s consciousness and becoming the host of their bodies...”

And then…

“And then killing the body. Moving to other ones.”

Fuck. We need to do something.

“Like what?”

I don’t know, anything!

“Kid…”

Why can't you transfer over to someone else and do something?

“Because I am not… an actual virus. I wasn't transferred into your brain, and then my body died. That's typically how viruses are created, at least that’s what I know from what Malva and Lily have told me. Instead I'm just…remains of my consciousness that just so happen to be left behind. Maybe if I was transferred in I could've been as strong as Coroz, but I…” she tries to flick her fingers, “I don't even have my own menu. So I doubt I can do half of the stuff the other 09s can do. Actually, I think I can do less than what a typical chip owner can do. I'm just…me.”

Well you taught me how to fight, and you're the reason why I'm even remotely close to getting out of here. So forget all the fancy memory weaponry and all that crap, because I need you and your knowledge now more than ever. I need you to be the strong and smart Imelda you've always been because we can’t just sit here and let him kill people!

“Kid, we need to pick and choose our battles. You can’t wake up, and I can’t fight.”

Oh come on, you’ve always told me to fight.

“When you had the chance, which right now you don’t.”

So what do we do?

“...we wait.”

I sit up and focus on the ground for a moment, attempting to pull it towards me to create something for us to sit on; but every time I think of moving the land, all I can hear is my own scream echoing back at me. My mind can’t pull away from the constant replay of the blade carving into my arms, tearing my muscles to shreds alongside the sound of his laughter.

Focus. I need to focus. With a deep breath, I clear my mind enough for the ground to begin terraforming into the shape of a bench similar to one near my parent's house. It lifts both myself and Imelda’s immobile body, and we both adjust ourselves to sit comfortably on the bench.

I can’t take my eyes off her blood-covered socks, but she keeps looking into the distance.

“Well, looks like I’m not taking a stroll anytime soon,” Imelda jokes.

It’s my fault. All of this mess is my fault. Imelda tried to convince me otherwise, but this chain of events worsened with every move I made. I didn’t make it to Annie on time, and because of that, I lost my temper. I killed Coroz with my hands, and now he’s out to get me. Imelda protected me because I couldn’t take on Coroz alone, and now she can’t walk. I’m so sorry, Imelda.

“Hey kid,” she says, “Don’t beat yourself up. This wasn’t your fault.”

Of course, it’s my fault! Every time I make a decision, things only get worse! You can’t walk because of me!

“I can’t walk because I choose to protect you,” she pats me on the head, “I choose to take the blame, even when you told me not to. Just like how you made your decisions, I made my own too.” She puts her hand on my shoulder, looking me in the eyes, “Whatever decision I make, it’s not your fault. Ok?”

I nod, pat her hand, and force a smile to match hers.

Ba-Ding!

A message shows up on a baby blue monitor in front of Imelda. I get up and step closer to read it.

“Would you like to update to system v2.0.0?”

A system update request? I was right when I suspected someone was testing on me, but something about this feels wrong. With the flick of my finger, I open the menu and see that the “Wake” option has still not returned.

“Congrats,” I hear a familiar voice say behind me. “Ya’ got them thinkin’.”

With a jump, I stand over Imelda with a machete in hand. My body quivers in pure terror as I can’t pull my eyes off his hand, lightly cradling the switchblade he used to carve Imelda and I.

Tears begin to build on the edges of my eyes. Fight, I must fight. That’s what my mind keeps screaming at me to do, but my body wont move. Every slight adjustment I make causes my limbs to tremble and for tears to fall from my eyes. His smile cuts through my head and re-awakens the memory that feels as though it were moments ago. The phantom pain of his gashing cuts sting in my arms, locking me in place with the inability to breathe.

He begins to walk towards me, and as I try to adjust my stance, my hand fumbles the machete, making me drop it onto the floor. Without a second thought, I lift my hands to ensure he doesn't suspect I’m trying to do anything. Coroz strolls to a stop about a foot away from me, “I ain’t got a reason to hurt ya’ right now,-”' the knife disappears “-I already got everything out of my system. You’s lucky, though. They don’t have a use to keep ya’ sleep anymore. Now they wan’na bring ya’ back to the land of the livin’.” He twists his body to look at the update message behind me, “I see they wan’na give ya’ the same upgrade like the others. Ya’ should be grateful; not everyone is comin’ back.”

‘Others?’ I mold into the ground.

“Yeah, we ain’t that special anymore.”

‘There’s more people with chips?’ I carve.

“You’ve really been gone for a while; ya’ have no idea what awaits ya’ out there.”

‘How long have I been out?’ I write.

“Well, lem’me think. Last time we ‘talked,’ it was Spetemba’, and now it’s Decemba’, so it’s been about two months.”

Another two months that I’ve been gone from the outside world. No, another two months where I’ve been trapped in this hellscape with this psychopath. My mind begins to wander into how much has changed. After this entire mess, I wonder what my family must be like. Knowing I’m alive must have been a shock for them. Am I alive? I feel insane. I am insane. I wish my mind was thinking about holding my sister in my arms and telling her how much I love her, but instead, those thoughts are stained with the constant sound of my own screams echoing in my head. I attempt to look Coroz in the eyes, but that same shock of terror that’s all too familiar from Malva strikes its way through my body. My stomach acid gurgles with the intent of vomiting, forcing me to take short breaths. I attempt to take a deeper breath, but the vomit attempts to travel up to my throat, forcing me to hold it there. The breath comes out slow, as to not further upset my stomach, and I force my vision away from Coroz and towards the update message. Maybe this is my way out, but what is it?

Imelda sighs, “Kid.” She’s reading the description, “It’s an antivirus.”

I look at the monitor as it reads, “There has been 1 virus found inside chip 109. Please update. For your safety, failure to update will cause the termination of the host menu.”

“Ya’ know too much, Imelda,” Coroz sighs, “They tryna’ keep ya’ quiet.”

Isn’t Imelda considered a virus? No, this can not be happening. If I don’t accept it, I’ll be stuck in here for god knows how long. If I do take it, Imelda will die. There has to be another way around this.

My attention turns to Coroz; he’s seated on a stump created from the ground. Imelda asks, “Why are you here?”

“Well, first off, I kinda needed a break from jumpin’ around; this is my secret hiding spot until ya’ wake up. You’s the only one still asleep, so I may as well enjoy it while it lasts. But I was also curious ‘bout somethin’. Imelda, do ya’ really still consider Lily to be ya’ friend?”

Imelda stares blankly at the menu, pondering her answer. “So that’s why,” she sighs, “You’re here to laugh at me one last time, is that it?”

“Maybe!” Coroz chortles. “It’s intrestin’, isn't it? What we do comes back ‘round to bite us in the long run. If only the two of ya’ listened to me, things might’ve been different. Wouldn’t ya’ say so, dear friend?” Imelda remains quiet, intensively looking at the monitor. “Well, ya’ not answering my question. Considerin’ everthin’ that she’s done to y’all, do ya’?”

Imelda sighs, her hand hovering over the options, “I’m afraid not. Those times are long behind us.”

“Ya’ learned that lesson a little too late,” Coroz grins, “I’ve said it once, and I’ll say it again; she’s got the two of ya’ wrapped around her finger. Many things have changed out there, but her honesty ain’t one of them. If ya’ knew the things she did to ya’ when ya’ slept, you’d throw that perfect image that ya’ have of her out the window in an instant; but that’s for you to figure out.”

He stands up, flicks his finger, and clicks “Transfer.”

No, I’m not going to let him get out this easily. Not again! I jump at him; my fist curling exactly the way Imelda showed me, and land a perfect blow on the side of his face. Coroz’s menu shatters as he stumbles around, blinking to regain his vision.

“Now things have got’ten interestin’!” Coroz cackles, wiping blood from his lip. He opens the menu once again and clicks transfer. Coroz smirks at me, bantering, “What are u gon'na do, Jada? You's gon'nna try to kill a dead guy?”

I look down at the ground and mentally carve "I'll make sure you stay dead this time.”

His maniacal laugh causes the floor to rumble, as he stumbles around holding onto his stomach. “Oh Jada, I'd LOVE to see you try!”

He pulls out Malva's revolver and takes aim for my head, “I'm not gon'na return the favor. Nah, I can kill you right here, right now, but where's the fun in that!?” He puts the gun away “Things have just gotten started. I’ll see ya around, Jada.”

I go to swing again, but he disappears in the blink of an eye.

“Nice punch, kid! Proud of you!” Imelda cheers. She returns to staring down the screen, her hand hovering over it. This can’t be right. Why are they after her? What could be so important that someone would want to delete her?

“Kiddo, I think that was the best thing I could have witnessed before…you know,” she croaks, “You need to get out, and by what I can see, I think you’ll do just fine.”

No. What about you?

“I’ve told you before. I’m not going to be here forever. If I can trade my life for yours, I would take it in an instant.”

Imelda, I can’t face Coroz without you. And what about Malva? What if she’s out there too? Imelda, I can't-

“You’re strong,” she interrupts, “Kid, you’re stronger than you give yourself enough credit for. I want you…I need you to go out there and live a long, happy life.”

Tears build up on the edge of my eyes.

Don’t leave me. Don’t do this to me, please!

Despite the sorrow in her eyes, Imelda’s smile remains, “I’ve overstayed my welcome in this life, we both know this.”

No, you’re not! Please stay!

“It’s time for me to finally rest.”

What about Jay?! You can’t leave him, too!

Her eyes widen as her expression turns sour for a moment. The tears she once held back begin to stream down her face. “Jay…Jay. Right. I’m…sorry. God I wish I could’ve said goodbye but…kid could you do me a favor?” She forces a smile. “If you ever see him, tell him how much I love him, and that I hope he has a wonderful life as well.”

I need to stop her before she clicks that button! Don’t click that update!

“Now is your time to fight back. Do everything you can to stop Coroz from hurting more people, alright?”

I sprint towards her, stretching my arm out for her. No! Please don’t leave me too!

“Jada, it’s been an honor helping you. Go live a beautiful life.”

With my fingers just barely touching her shoulder, she accepts the update. The bench, the update, and Imelda all suddenly disappear. I fall to my knees, grasping at the air.

Imelda? I grab at the empty space where she sat, trying to hold her. She’s not gone. No, please, no! Imelda! In a burst of anger, I scream out into the abyss. Spikes appear all around me, shooting in every direction as I shriek and sob. No! Not again! This can’t be happening! Imelda!

I create and sit on a bench, my face in my palms, drowning in tears. The lack of Imelda’s presence makes the abyss hollow. I glance next to me, waiting for her to sit next to me, ready to give advice, only to be met with the still void. My mind spins out of control as the spikes keep shooting out of the ground.

This should be an incredible moment in my life. I’m finally getting out. All I feel is hollow. The grief chokes me out, but there’s not enough energy left in me to feel sad. This hollowness won’t leave my chest; I screech out into the abyss, tearing at my hair by the roots. Imelda, what am I supposed to do? Where are you?! You can’t be gone!

I ache for one of her hugs. I never asked for those hugs, but she knew precisely when to give them. Please, don’t be gone.

A blue screen appears before me, stating, “You will awaken in 10 seconds”.

No, wait! Wait, I still need time! Wait! There has to be a way to get her back! Imelda can’t be gone! I whip my head around, hunting for Imelda in the open world; she has to be somewhere!

“You will awaken in 5 seconds.”

There’s no way she’s gone. There’s no way they…no, they couldn’t.

“You will awaken in 4 seconds.”

There’s no way someone killed her. It must have been a lie! Who would do this?!

“You will awaken in 3 seconds.”

What did she know that was so important that it cost her life?! What couldn’t she tell me?

“You will awaken in 2 seconds.”

There has to be a piece of this story that I’m missing! Something that would explain why someone would want to kill her!

“You will awaken in 1 second.”

Why did they have to take her too?

Available April 15th