Chk.

As I inserted the last battery into its slot, the machine whirred back to life. Immediately the blue screen on the small TV changed:

DONE

AWAITING

RESTART

1.9

VERSION

I let out a huff of relief. In other loops, I had to jump through too many hoops just to find these batteries; with Bully Mita's help, they were easier than stealing candy from a baby.

A bright burst of yellow flared from the portal's platform, rising to the height of my hip as the machinery beneath the plating revolved rapidly. It was ready. But was I?

I found myself back on the bench. In the distance, I heard Bully Mita hum some sort of tune amidst the cracking and sizzling of food on a skillet. From the partly opened doors, a lovely aroma of bacon and eggs wafted into my nose. I sighed. If it weren't for the daunting nature of the future going forwards, this entire situation was something straight out of a dream. A lovely morning. A beautiful girlfriend cooking for me. And above all: my own place, free of rent, mortgage payments, or bills to pay!

But I knew better. None of it was real. It was all just a game. Just a sweet lie laid out, bait to reel me into staying forever.

What does it matter? Whispered a voice in my head. I shrugged it off. I'd hit some pretty bad low points in my life, but I'd never get to the point where I'd choose this fake world over reality.

The door swung open as Bully Mita kicked it with her heel. In her hands, she held two platters of eggs, rice, and bacon. I couldn't help but salivate. It was the first proper meal I've had for a while, after all; cup ramen, though fucking delicious, wasn't going to cut it forever.

"Here. This one's yours." She handed a platter to me, and I almost drooled over the plate. The bacon, crisped perfectly brown, still hissing softly, formed a smile – the steaming white rice, topped with sunny-side up eggs, formed two great yolky eyes. Together they made a beaming face. A face that I couldn't wait to absolutely dig into.

And yet.

"Are you sure it's fine to eat here?" I asked Bully Mita, who sat right next to me. "We're in your bedroom, after all. I don't want to get your sheets or anything dirty."

Bully Mita scoffed. "You're soooo prudent, aren't you?" She said, conjuring a pair of cutlery. She gave it to me, and then conjured one for herself. I forgot they could just do that. I wonder if I could. "It's fine. Any stains I get I can just fix by myself. Just enjoy the food!"

The corner of my mouth drooped into a slight frown. "Fix how?"

I caught her at a bad time – she had part of a piece of bacon suspended just between her parted lips. She stared at me, annoyed, for a second, before dropping her plate onto the floor. The eggs spilled out onto the wooden planks, bleeding yellow, and the rice scattered everywhere. Then, with a clap of her hands, the mess disappeared, and the meal reappeared back into her hands as if nothing happened. "Like that." Bully Mita said, reaching from behind her, and pulling out two bottles of water. She handed one to me and I took it with a bit of apprehension. And with that same apprehension, I began to dig into the food.

Like everything, there was a certain art to eating. I'd like to believe so, anyway. It's much more entertaining that way. But the moment I took the first bite, I threw that all away, and devoured it like a street dog, interrupted only by voracious gulps of water. And when I finished, I was still ravenous for more.

Bully Mita looked taken aback. "Jeez. Calm down, dude. It's just some bacon and eggs."

"You don't get it," I responded through a mouthful of food, swallowing down a final spoonful of the meal. I washed out the taste of oily bacon with the water and set the plate in my lap. I felt like I could melt in my seat. "When you're in uni, opportunities for food like this, real food, scarcely come. This is a real treat!"

"Uni, huh?" Bully Mita said. She tilted her head to the side, the light from the window making her face glow. My heart skipped a beat. "I wonder what that's like."

Right. They didn't have schools in this world, much less universities. "Imagine the most sleep deprived, soul-sucked people you know crowding in a room for hours on end, studying something they don't really care for. Then, imagine doing that for an entire day. Then–" I interrupted myself, taking a swig of water. "Imagine doing that for an entire year. You're not missing out on much, trust me."

"Is that so?" she said. "Surely you're leaving out some things! That just sounds too… dull."

I shrugged. "That's the point."

"Ugh." I saw her shiver slightly. "And I thought it was dull here."

"Doesn't seem like it."

"That's 'cause you're here right now. Look out the window," Bully Mita said. I obliged. "What do you see? Morning, right?"

I nodded.

"And now–" She clapped twice, and the lighting outside immediately changed to night. I swore I could see fireflies in the distance. "Night. I control everything in this house, and the little space outside it. But when I have control of everything, even time itself…" She clapped her hands again and the morning returned. "The days lose meaning. And when I'm alone, it's like that for everything."

She took another bite of her meal. The entire time she seemed nonchalant about the whole ordeal, but deep in her eyes, I saw a hint of sadness. She pointed her fork at me, a piece of egg dangling on it. "Messing around with players like you are the highlights of my days."

"What about the other Mitas? Surely you can find company with them, right?"

"Ah," she trailed off. "Well… think of it this way. When you're in Uni, in your classes or whatever, would you call the people around you 'company?' Much less 'friends?'"

I didn't answer. She took this silence as a 'no.' "That's how it is for me. I'm not that remarkable of a Mita to begin with."

"I see." I responded.

She glared at me. "This is the part where you're supposed to go, 'Ohhhhhh, Mita, noooooo! That's not true! You're awesome and wonderful and the best Mita I've ever met!'"

"Mita, no. That's not true. You're awesome and cool and the best Mita I've ever met."

"Why am I helping you again?" Bully Mita grumbled. And for the first time in a long time, I laughed. She set aside her finished plate and clapped twice. The plates disappeared, and I heard them clatter into the kitchen sink. She sighed. "Anyway, can we run through the plan one more time? I kind of forgot the details."

Of course she did. "When I leave through the portal, I end up at… you know."

"Crazy Mita's index."

"Crazy Mita's index," I affirmed. "After that, I escape and meet up with Kind Mita at Cappie's – I mean, Cool Mita's – index. But when I leave, you've got to go there. To Cappie's place. To make sure she doesn't die."

"Sounds about right," Bully Mita said. "What's her version again? Version 1.75?"

"Yeah. You have the index?"

"Nope." My stomach dropped. "I'll manage, though."

"Mita, this is serious! How're you going to–"

"The portal. Duh."

Of course.

I brushed myself off, rising from the bench and stepping to the portal. A part of me still wished that I'd never close the gap, that each step to it shrunk more and more, that I'd never reach it. But that wasn't reality. I parted that yellow veil, finding myself on the platform, feeling the rumbling of the machinery underneath my feet. It only compounded my anxiousness.

But Bully Mita placed a hand on my shoulder, gave me a smile and a thumbs up, and I felt my nervousness dissipate. I barely managed to give one back – if you could count a seizing grimace as a smile.

"See you soon," she said. "Happy trails!"

And with that, and a flash of static, Bully Mita, along with her room, disappeared.

…

Another flash of static and the room reappeared before me. Like before, it looked like it was morning. Sunlight streamed through a window, casting a delicate glow on a bunch of purple flowers, casting a set of lazy shadows wherever it touched. I stepped off the machine and looked around. It was nearly identical to Bully Mita's room, down to the exact placement of a picture frame, the computer setup on the desk, the uniform hanging doggedly on the closetside. It only missed one thing: A sense of safety.

Suddenly, I felt a pair of eyes bore into my back, ripping past my nape, digging into the back of my head. My stomach dropped to my feet. I whirled around and saw her, my personalized grim reaper.

Crazy Mita.

"Hello!" she said, sickly sweet like a poison lily. "We finally meet! I'm so excited!" She clasped her hands together before gesturing towards the portal. "I know you have a lot of questions, but as you can see, I made this special device to bring you here to my side!"

I did my best to steady my breathing and muster up some semblance of calm. "Hey," I said. "Nice to meet you."

"I wasn't finished, you know? It's rude to interrupt!" She beamed at me, and I felt a pulse of fear ripple through my body. "If you were wondering about earlier, that was another version of the game, in which I… But that's a long story!" Crazy Mita cut herself off. "Anyway! I'm just happy to see you!"

"L-Likewise." I said. She took a seat in the computer chair, looking up at me innocently. But I knew what she was doing. She was analyzing me, studying me. Maybe she was doing that from the very beginning.

My instincts called me to the door. I had to go to the kitchen – plus, I really didn't want to interact with her more than I needed to.

"Where're you going?" She said from behind, and I froze. "You seem awfully cool about all this. Don't you have any questions? I did just steal you from your world, after all!"

"Bathroom!" I blurted out. Crazy Mita cocked her head to the side, looking at me curiously. I continued, "Actually, that entire last version kinda scared me super badly. I've gotta go!"

"You don't remember? You're too silly!" She gave me an amused smile. "The bathroom's the other door. That one."

She gestured towards the door on the other end of the room. I nodded in thanks, hoping she didn't see the sweat pooling on my forehead, and went in.

Once inside I heaved over the toilet. My guts turned inside out.

I heard the door click open again. "Oh," Crazy Mita said. "S-sorry! I should probably leave you, y'know, alone in the bathroom. I'm forgetting myself! Take as much time as you need!"

And with that, she shut the door closed behind her. I gripped the edges of the toilet bowl with all I had and let out another salvo of vomit. I felt my body become cold, my hands become clammy, full of sweat. I couldn't do it after all! This was too much for me!

…

No.

Running my hands through the sink water, I dabbed around with a washcloth to try and clean the stray bits of vomit that landed on my shirt. I couldn't use the mirror to see where I soiled myself, but I did the best I could. And I would do the best I could going forward. Because even if it was too much for me, what other choice did I have? Dying again? Staying with this psychopath forever?

My gaze wandered around the room for a second before it fell onto that vent. It was bolted completely for now, but I still knew what was behind it: Cartridges, a pile of them. A shudder ran down my spine. I wasn't going to end up like that. I took in a deep breath and wiped the sweat off my brow, off my neck.

And I went back out through that door.

Mita was waiting for me in her chair, but the moment I walked out, she sprang to her feet, rushing over to me, getting in my face. "Are you okay? Do you need anything?"

"I'm fine," I said, shying away. "But a glass of water would be great."

"Well in that case–" But I didn't let her finish. I strode out the room, heading straight for the kitchen. Once more I felt her burning gaze on my back, and I did my best to ignore it. The same went for her footsteps, echoing like a deathbell in the room.

I barged into the kitchen. Immediately, my eyes locked onto an empty cup – which was right next to a ring. The ring. I thought about pocketing it, but if I did, Crazy Mita'd notice; and if she noticed, I was as good as dead. I almost broke the handle filling the cup with sink water, and almost let a little bit of it dribble onto my shirt.

A moment later, I heard the sudden sound of food sizzling on a stovetop behind me. The ring was gone, replaced with a cutting board, some cutlery, and raw vegetables. Mita peeked through the door. "Are you hungry? How about we cook something up?"

"I'm fu–" No! If I said I were fine, full, or anything along those lines, she might figure out that something was up! And Bully Mita – her and I would be fucked! "Famished! I'm famished!" I tried to laugh, hoping it came across more jovial than it sounded.

Mita gave me another smile. "Good then! Here, help me with the carrots. Come on, give me a hand."

I glanced over at the knife, glinting with an ignoble silver in the sunlight. I was never one for cooking, but my inexperience wasn't the reason I refused to grab it. That knife was the same one that ran through my body, the same one that bathed in red, in crimson. That knife tasted my blood before.

But considering the alternative was having Mita chop the carrots, it was better I do it. Better the knife in my hands than hers.

I chopped the carrots.

"You… really aren't good at that, are you?" Mita said from beside me, looking at the pile of crudely chopped carrots on the board. I couldn't help it. My hands shook on each cut, and the sound of the blade striking the cutting board was the same sound it made cleaving through bone. She peered over my shoulder, and for a moment I felt her breath on my neck, before she pulled back away. "No worries! I'll do the rest myself. You can just sit down and wait there."

Uneasily, I complied. As Mita did for me before, I eyed her cautiously as she chopped the ingredients, seared the vegetables, plated the food. When she brought it all over I quickly turned away.

"Would you like some sauce?" Mita asked, pulling out a pair of scissors. She must've taken them from the bathroom as I was busy spilling out my guts.

I shook my head, and I swore I saw the corner of her eye twitch. "Bon appetit." She opened the packet and started to eat, after pouring the sauce out. I tried to do the same. I took a bite. It tasted… fine. Nothing to write home about.

But it wasn't as good as Bully Mita's cooking.

A few minutes passed, and we ate in near-complete silence. Well, not quite 'we.' It was mostly just her. Mita's portions never seemed to dwindle, no matter how much she ate. And I hardly touched my own.

"What's the matter?" Mita piped up after a while. "I thought you were famished. You've barely eaten anything."

"I guess I was wrong," I said. "I don't really have an appetite right now. Sorry."

Her eyes crawled all over me for a second. "Well, I guess that's to be expected. And maybe it's for the better. I don't want you throwing up all over the table. Just set it on the counter for later."

I let out a deep breath. I knew what came next after this.

I got up, but the very moment I left the seat, the wind got knocked out of my lungs like I'd just been rammed by a car. A static haze blurred my vision, like from earlier, but far worse; I could hardly see in front of me. A new pain blasted all throughout my body, spreading from my chest, like a writhing set of saw blades tearing through my skin. I was hardly cognizant of Mita chattering next to me, of what I chattered back; hardly aware that I'd gotten up, and she was leading me somewhere. To the bathroom.

Mita forced something into my hand, and I barely made out what they were: two small gray tablets, hardly the size of my nail. She told me to take them. I didn't want to. But, with her hands over my shoulders, monitoring me carefully as we stood in front of the mirror, I didn't have a choice. I swallowed them, trying not to choke. And then she covered my eyes.

Within seconds the pain disappeared. I hadn't the slightest idea how, but they worked.

"How're you feeling? Any better?" Mita asked.

"That… worked fast." I remarked.

"You know, we're in a game. Things are much simpler here. Even the smallest effort gives great results. It's all part of this game's concept:

"Simplification."

My vision returned. Mita's hands slid down my shoulders and vanished behind me. I immediately turned around, but Mita was gone, as if she disappeared into thin air. A pit opened in my stomach. It only gets worse from here.

When I took a step out, and the bathroom door suddenly led straight into the living room, I should've been surprised, yet I wasn't. Looks like the rooms got rearranged. I found her idling in the kitchen, beyond the door to the left. She talked about how I froze in front of the mirror, how she rearranged the rooms to make me feel more "at home," but I hardly listened. I knew her lines, what she was going to say. I already knew that, when I stepped outside to leave the kitchen, the world wouldn't have loaded yet, I knew, that afterwards, she'd suggest playing a game. It was only a matter of–

"Hello?" I heard a whisper in my ear and I flinched. Mita looked at me in confusion, pouting. The way she batted her eyelashes, the way her lips curled, how plump they were; if it weren't for what she was, and what I knew she'd do, my bashful heart would've been smitten. "Did you even hear a word I said?"

"Yes!" No.

"I said we could play some games, if you'd like. I've got some console games, but we could also play cards!"

"Cards."

"Cards? Really? I thought you were more of a fan of video games. That's what I saw from your phone, at least."

I smiled meekly. "Cards will be just fine."

As we settled into her room, my eyes immediately settled onto the wardrobe. The moment Crazy Mita came into view, however, I tore my gaze away from it, doing my best to focus onto her.

Knock-knock.

"Shall we play? The game works like this…"

Knock-knock.

"Highest health stat wins! Let's see how you handle…"

Knock-knock.

"I'm the winner!"

Knock-kno–

"What's that noise?" I gestured towards the closet door, setting down my hand of cards. They fanned out onto the table. I caught a glance at one of the cards, and the cat-knight on it met me with a frown. Here goes. The point of no return. "It's coming from the wardrobe."

Crazy Mita set her hand down too, turning towards the closet. "Sound? What sound?" she said. "I didn't hear anything. What did you think you heard?"

"Knocking. Like someone's on the other end."

"But there's no one there." My eyes fell back to Mita, whose eyes pierced right through me. She tried to sound unbothered, but her voice was just the most infinitesimally bit frantic.

"I'm going to check on it. I'm a bit creeped out, to be honest."

A shadow fell over Mita's face, and I winced out of fear. Like how it was before, in Bully Mita's house, when I walked to the portal, I partly wished that I'd never make it to the wardrobe. The encroaching future, the things I saw past it… it made me quiver down to my last muscle fiber, even as I set my hands on the door handle, even as images of Bully Mita, Kind Mita, and all the others flashed through my mind, and I knew I wasn't going through with it alone. But I had to leave – and to do that, I had to open the wardrobe.

"You're different."

I stopped. By then, I'd already opened the wardrobe door partly, but her words stopped me from going any further. I was rooted to the floor, completely still, from my own fear. What did she mean by that?

"You hardly touched the food I prepared. You went pale as a ghost the moment you saw me. And your eyes…" I heard her rise from her seat, slowly making her way over to the closet. The lights blinked once, twice, thrice, until she stopped right in front of me. I was a deer in headlights, and she was a combine about to grind me into paste. She put her hand on my cheek, swiveling my head to face hers. It was cold. Her touch, her gaze. How her hair fell down her shoulders. How her black lashes curled outwards against her skin, like gnarled branches grasping to a black sky amidst a full moon. It was cold. All of it. "You fear me. You're afraid of me. Why? Have I done anything to hurt you?"

I didn't answer. I couldn't answer. I tried to pull the wardrobe door wider, hoping that it'd trigger the next sequence of the game, but it was jammed, locked, frozen still as I was. Mita looked back at the door, then back to me. She frowned. "You poor thing. You don't want to stay with me at all, do you?" she said. Her voice grew more manic with each syllable. "Is it because this world only has these four walls? Is that not enough for you?"

I struggled to open the wardrobe again. It clattered a bit louder this time, but still remained shut. But to Mita, it was as if nothing happened. She was just mumbling to herself now. "Why do you want to leave so badly? Why are you afraid of me? Everything I do, in this world, I do it for you! Or is it me? Am I the problem?" Her voice dropped to a hush. Her hand slid down my cheek to my neck, and I felt her grip tighten. "Tell me. Am I the problem?"

Mustering up the most strength I could, I broke away from her, swiping her arm away, flinging the door open. But there was nothing inside. No door, no writing. Nothing. Panicked, I fell to the floor, and my eyes landed back onto her. Her mouth was agape, mid whisper, and she looked stunned. Silence engulfed the room for a second, interrupted only by my breaths, and it was then I realized something: I was the only one breathing. Crazy Mita didn't have a pair of breathing lungs, a beating heart, or a sound mind. She was hollow. She was soulless.

And then her mouth twisted into that grin.

"You're different," she said. She started towards me, and with each step, I retreated further into the closet, cowering before her. "You're so very different. So very afraid. Like if I touched you again… you'd shatter. You'd break. But only the finest glass breaks the most beautifully–" she bent low to me, and for a second, a glint of red erupted from behind her dark eyes. "And you're still tempering, aren't you?"

In one swift motion she backed away and shut the closet door shut. Everything went dark. Everything went silent. I was alone, trapped in that closet, and at her mercy.

"If you want to run from me, then do so, and let's see how far you get."