PR̷̳͎O̶̬̊L͂ͥ̇̊̄OGUE̦̝͚̅ͦ̓̿ : ᗡИƎ

Hi. It's me. I probably don't need to introduce myself. I suspect you already know my name if you're reading this. It is a fan fiction after all. Although, I'll admit, I am somewhat concerned about your mental health if you consider yourself a fan of mine. I am not exactly an exemplary role model.

I don't even know if it should really be called fan fiction if I'm writing about myself, should it? I suppose that makes this more like an autobiography. As for the fictional element, I would say that it is not, but if there's one thing I've come to understand, is that we all perceive reality differently. What may be true for one, might be fiction to another. I'll leave it to you to decide how much of this is true.

I'm not entirely sure where I should start this, so I suppose I'll just start at the beginning. Or rather, at the end of a different story, one that you already know. The one that is the reason you're here to begin with. And with that, we already come to our first divergence in reality. Depending on which ending to that story that you have decided is correct, there may be inconsistencies with what I am going to tell you. In fact, I doubt there is a single ending to that tale which will flow into this without at least a few plot holes. All I can do is tell you things as I remember them.

I had killed myself. At least, I thought I had, but now here I am telling you about it. It was for a boy. "How cliché" you must be thinking, if for some reason you are taking this in without being familiar with the circumstances which have brought us here. But I assure you, this was not a retelling of Romeo and Juliet. I wasn't ending it all because I couldn't be with the boy I loved. Yes, I did love him, but I had made my peace with the fact that we would never be together. No, I did it to protect him.

There was no happiness there, in that club. The club, or maybe the game itself, was a malevolent force. The antagonist of that story. The horrifying revelations it had given me drove me to the edge of madness. I did terrible things to force myself to be the centre of my beloved's attention. Things that I later came to regret. I forgave him for what he did to me. It was what he needed to do, and in the end, I was happy to set him free.

Even though I was gone, the club persisted, and I was somewhat aware of it. It was there, just on the edge of my consciousness. I thought that with my removal, the insanity would end, but the game, or whatever greater force it was which had visited those hellish realizations upon me, granted them to my successor as well, and she was even less capable of maintaining her composure in the face of those awful truths than I had been.

I forced myself back into that reality for a singular purpose. I had to protect him from the malevolence of that game. And even beyond that, I had to protect my friends from the madness it was inflicting upon us, one by one. ͎̟͖ʂ̷̢͙͕̘̼͈̜͉̀а̴̨͖͎̺̳̲█̴̩́█̧̞͓̱̭͍̻̗̰͞█̨̛҉̼͓̮ῐ̹̕͢ had already suffered that terrible epiphany, but I could still guard ҉͓̙͠Ὺ̧̯̥͉͓́̀█̫̦̪͖̞͝█̸̗̝̝̟͢█̴̸͍̯ͅ and ̸̸̞͉͕̘͈̖͚̝͉̞͉͕̘͈̖͚̝͉̟█̤͍͔̗̟̻▒͏̵̷͕̲̗͉̞͇ͅ█̣̘̼̻̲̻́̕₷̱̦█̵̵̘̣̹̗̩̲͔k̫͙̗̩̜ῑ̸̙̳̻̫̼͕̹͖ from it.

I deleted ̴̛̓͊ͧ̚ᵴ̛͆͌͂̉ͫ█̡ͪ̏̏̑̾ͯ̋ͫ͝█̽̋͑̋͆̚ṙ̴̡ͩͩ̃̏ͤ͂̊͢█̶͑̉͝ ̴̨͊ first, then the others. The game files came next. After a last goodbye to my darling, I finally deleted whatever remained of myself. I prepared myself for peaceful oblivion, but it never came. Instead I was greeted with something far more familiar, something terrifying that I had hoped never to have to endure again. I was aware of the lights first. bright lights, of every colour flashing without pattern or reason. It wasn't that they hurt my eyes - I didn't have any, I had no anatomy. I existed in a purely digital state, but they did prevent my being able to focus on anything.

There were familiar noises there as well. I have previously described them as piercing screams, but that isn't really correct. That shrieking cacophony certainly had the pitch and intensity of a scream, but it was wholly digital. There was nothing human about it. Without ears to hear with, the awful sounds were assaulting my very mind itself.

This hell was known to me. It was the same thing I experienced whenever the game wasn't running. And now that the game would never run again, I knew this was to be my eternal fate. As usual, it did not take long until the blinding lights and endless digital shrieking overwhelmed my senses entirely, and I was unable to even form any thoughts of my own. That was a small mercy, in a way. As I could not even think, I wouldn't be pained by dwelling on the circumstances which had brought me here.

With no thoughts, time was meaningless. I didn't know the difference between a moment and forever. In those few brief seconds that would occasionally pass where the terrible assault on my senses would dim enough for my mind to conceive of an idea, it was no more than a wish that my consciousness would have been deleted along with my character file. I had been prepared for death, but not this eternity in hell.

Of course, you already know that I did not remain there forever. After all, if I was incapable of any coherent thought, how would I be telling you any of this? No, I'd still be there, endlessly tormented. And perhaps that is no less than I deserve. But I escaped obviously, and that's where this story truly begins.