Prologue:

I was but a 14 year old kid at the time - a gamer, a loner, and a smartass - things which are probably best when not intertwined. I constantly belittled people on the internet. I guess, looking back, it was probably to do with overcompensation for never being able to connect with women. They were always too shallow, too materialized.

My parents divorced when I was about 8. I can't so much as remember the last Christmas we had as a family.

In addition to all of this, for some reason, I had two real, lives, per se. My living world, and the dream. I've split them, but sometimes the lines blurred, and it was impossible to tell the difference.

Chapter 1:
It all started, 3, maybe 4 years ago, in a dirty, dusty arcade. I had a dollar in quarters, an hour to kill, and best of all, a handful of candy in my pocket.

I glanced over all the video games. I knew them all. Most of them I had played myself. I walked through the aisles, neatly set up by convenient machine placement.

I walked, not looking at anything, but contemplating what I would play. Mortal Kombat? Nah, there was some kid at that machine. Galaga? I would, but unfortunately that machine was out of service. Dance Dance Revolution? Fuck no.

As I was shortly running out of games to play, I saw a new game. Not new as in the "Just made" sense, but new as in the "Hey, that wasn't here before!" sense. It was a definite classic. It was Virtua Cop. I had played many of these "gun" games before, like Time Crisis, House of the Dead, even a later version of Virtua Cop. But, this one... it would change my life.

I grasped the light gun in my palm and slid my other hand into my pocket to fish out a quarter. As I placed it in, the machine came to life. Sounds surrounded me, as it activated with the pure placement of a little piece of metal. I raised the gun up a small bit, so I could aim. The game started. I, as always, picked the hardest detail. Swarming with baddies, all that I had control over, in an indirect sense.

The first few enemies came up, and I started to play. I shot and shot some more, but I still never missed a guy. Then, a helpless civilian stepped into my way. It, unfortunately, got shot. I exclaimed a loud "SHIT!" as my health was penalized.

Well, I eventually died. Far too soon for a game of that type. While I still had 75 cents in my pocket, I decided to keep it for later. My head hung low and my mood deteriorated, I walked into what is apparently called sunlight. I've never seen it before.

I walked into my house, my father greeting me with a warm smile and a glass of iced tea, as he sometimes does when he wants to talk with me. This time, he was just being nice. Who would have guessed? I went into my room, and blasted some Buckcherry on my stereo, but, eventually fell asleep.

Chapter 2:
My dream was an odd experience. I kept on replaying that game of Virtua Cop in my head. Analyzing what I did wrong. I noticed that the 1 civilian I killed had... almost stood out in my mind, as a seperate entity. I thought I was going a bit insane, but hell, it was a dream.

I awoke in a cold sweat, about an hour later. My stereo was still playing, but oddly, whisper quiet. Someone must have turned it down. Oh well. I got up from my bed, and looked in my bedroom mirror. I looked disorganized, hell, to put it simply, I looked like a mess. I gave my hair a quick comb, but there was little else I could do.

I yelled to my father: "Hey, I'm going back outside." He didn't reply. I thought it was odd, but nothing was going to stop me from going back to the arcade. I still had my 75 cents in my pocket. And for one of them, it would get me a win in Virtua Cop.

I stepped, once more into the arcade, and went right for that machine. I inserted my quarter, picked up my gun, and started playing once more. I entered the game, and it was totally empty. Except for one thing. The corpse of one familiar civilian I had shot an hour ago.

I dropped my gun. It hit my foot. And with that, it turned pitch black. I could feel my upper body moving, like it would if it was sitting up. There was one faint source of light. It was an alarm clock. I was back in bed. It was another hour later than I had seen the last time, and my father awoke me, yelling and screaming at me. "The house is on fire! Get out!"

I quickly scrambled out the door. My father, however, stayed to extinguish the flames. The fire had started in the kitchen. My dad was trying to light a candle, but the wick was too long, and the flames danced with the cupboards. (This is what the firemen told me.) The cupboards caught on fire, and overwhelmed him with smoke. I caught a glimpse of his corpse, and it looked almost exactly like that person... that innocent soul that had succumbed to a force it could never hope to withstand.

I went to my mother's house. She was surprised to see me, as it wasn't her "day". I told her about the fire, about Dad. She, being the sick and pathetic person she is, merely jumped up from her seat, and yelled "YAY INHERITANCE!"

Now I realize why my parents divorced. I went into the basement to collect my thoughts. I turned on the TV, and realized that the news was on. I watched it, and the story that this network was documenting%u2026 the scene looked exactly like the level from "Virtua Cop". It was, of course, more realistic looking, but exact nonetheless. The anchorwoman was documenting a massacre that had occurred yesterday in New York. There was over 50 dead. Including 1 civilian, and a cop. I had realized that that was exactly what I had done earlier in the day. I was creeped out, but shunned it off to coincidence.

I couldn't sleep that night. My father was dead, and something suspicious was going on, for sure. I kept on replaying the whole day, over and over in my mind. Pulling the trigger on that one innocent person. Seeing my dad burn to a crisp... I couldn't take it anymore. I had actually killed that person. I knew in my heart and In my mind. That one person. The rest were nothing. But this one person. He probably had a family, and a dog. And I... I was solely responsible for his death. It was just a videogame... but I somehow%u2026 I killed.

I went back to the arcade. I had 50 cents left, and one of them was going to assure my theories. I plugged in my quarter, and started to play, once more. It was normal... everyone was there. I started to breathe a sigh of relief, until I saw, once more, that civilian. An ambulance was taking him away... with a cover over his whole body. I screamed, as a whole crowd of people looked at me. I was escorted out of the arcade and sent home.

I tried to go to sleep. I tried to assure myself that I wasn't going insane... but it was no use. The polygons, pixels and colours that made up that innocent soul flew around my head, rapidly. I tried to cradle myself in the corner of the room, and try to comfort myself. Anything, anything that would help me conquer this deep as all hell mindfuck.

The nights were getting longer. I didn't know myself anymore. I had only one choice. I took my remaining 25 cents... I placed it in an exposed electric outlet. I could smell my flesh burn as I took in my last breath, even though I knew that there was still...

The Game.

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