My head throbbed as if my skull were splitting open, blood dripping from my nose in uneven bursts. The pain lasted for hours before subsiding, leaving me drained but strangely exhilarated. A wave of guilt tried to creep in; I had humiliated Thea in front of everyone, but the guilt was drowned by something darker, a pulse of satisfaction I had never felt before.
Wait… why did I do that to her? I thought, staring at the ceiling in the quiet of my room. Because she hurt me. Because I love her. Maybe this is what love really is, fairness. She rejects me, she humiliates me, I give it back to her. That's fair. And one day she'll understand. She has to. Love isn't gentle; it's brutal, it's punishment, it's devotion. And I'll carry it for her, even if it destroys me.
The obsession consumed me. I scrolled endlessly through Thea's socials until I found what I was looking for: Ronnie. Her boyfriend. The barrier between us. The one who had beaten me bloody in the street. Hatred burned hotter than guilt in me.
How do I get rid of him? I wondered. I can't just stab him; I won't dirty my hands like that. No, it has to be cleaner. Smarter. A way that makes him fall without me ever touching him.
I dug through Ronnie's feeds like an addict, hunting for weaknesses. Friends. Family. Old posts. TikToks. The cracks began to show. A strained relationship with his father. Strange jokes about "powder nights." Comments and tags with friends flashing cryptic emojis.
He's a druggie… oh, this is perfect. My lips curved into a cold smile. All I need is proof. Once everyone sees it, he's done. Thea won't have a boyfriend anymore; she'll have me, her soulmate.
For days I stalked Ronnie, waiting for the perfect moment. But Ronnie never slipped up in public. My frustration deepened until a solution came to me. I didn't need to wait for a mistake. I could create one.
That weekend, Ronnie posted about a party. I followed him there.
Outside, two supervisors stood at the door, checking invitations. I hung back in the shadows until a group approached. I locked eyes with the guards, bending their minds with subtle pulses of disorientation. When the group flashed their cards, I imprinted the memory over the guards' sight, rewinding it like a broken tape until it was my turn to show my. cards.
The guards blinked, confused, stammering. "Uh, did we already?"
"Yes," I said smoothly, smiling. "You did. I'm good to go, right?"
One of them frowned, still dazed. "Er… yeah. Go ahead."
Inside, the party raged, music pounding, lights cutting the dark like blades. Ronnie sat with friends at a corner table, already drunk, laughing too loudly. I melted into the background, eyes fixed on him. I didn't need to act directly. Just… nudge things.
The drugs came out, powder lined on glass. Ronnie hesitated, then bent down, sniffing. My mind reached out like claws. I erased the memory the instant it formed, of Ronnie's and the group. Ronnie blinked in confusion, friends egging him on.
"Come on, man, don't pussy out! Why are you hesitating, be a man!"
Another line. Another erasure. Again. Again. Ronnie's body staggered under the weight of what his mind couldn't process. To him, it felt like like he was in a different world, but he doesn't remember taking the powder. Peer pressure did the rest.
Minutes later, his body convulsed. His face went pale. He collapsed. Chaos erupted, screams, frantic calls for an ambulance, police arriving. Word spread through the neighborhood before dawn: Ronnie was in a coma.
His family was devastated. Thea didn't come to school for days. I felt no remorse. On the contrary, I felt powerful, untouchable, almost godlike. And yet, buried under the euphoria, there was a faint whisper that didn't feel like me at all.
Ronnie's condition worsened over the following weeks. Machines kept him alive, but the doctors grew grim. They told the family to prepare for the worst. Thea clung to hope, visiting his bedside daily, praying and whispering promises into his ears.
Then one morning, against all odds, Ronnie opened his eyes. His face was pale but alive, his voice weak but steady. The room erupted with joy.
"Thea…" he rasped. "I'm so glad you're here. I'm sorry, for everything. For disappointing you. For wasting myself. I don't want to live like this anymore. I'll change. I'll stop. I'll go to rehab. I'll be better."
Thea sobbed, clutching his hand. "Don't scare me like that again. I don't care how hard it is, I'll stand by you. We'll get through this. Just don't leave me."
His mother broke down, laughing through tears, striking him lightly on the chest. "You devil. You care more about your girlfriend than your own mother. But I'm glad she's here; she's a good girl." The room chuckled, even as everyone wept.
Ronnie turned to his little brother, who stood frozen in the corner. "Hey, champ. When I get out of here, we'll go to that cosplay event you wanted. I'll buy you the best costume."
His brother lit up, hugging him tightly. "Really? You promise?"
"I promise."
Even his father, usually so cold, was moved. He pulled his son into an embrace for the first time in years. "I'm proud of you, boy. Don't waste this second chance." All of his family witnessed his redemption moment except his older brother, who was working in Leazing.
The room glowed with relief. For a brief moment, it felt like a miracle.
But miracles lie.
That night, Ronnie asked for everyone to leave him with Thea. His smile was soft, his tone warm.
"I love you," he whispered, resting his head in her lap. "Thank you for always staying by my side. I don't deserve you."
Thea stroked his hair, tears falling silently. "Don't talk like that. I love you more. I just wish… I wish it could always be like this."
He closed his eyes, still smiling. "Then let me dream of you."
And with that, he drifted into sleep.
Thea stayed with him, humming, until she realized something was wrong. His breaths grew shallow, then stopped. His hand went limp in hers. The smile froze on his face forever.
Her screams echoed through the hospital. Nurses rushed in, his family followed, but it was too late. Ronnie's moment of clarity had been nothing more than terminal lucidity, the mind's last cruel trick before death.
Thea collapsed on the floor, unable to breathe, clutching her chest as if her own heart were torn out. His mother sobbed into his body. His father stood silent, guilt etched into his eyes. His little brother shook him, begging him to wake.
And me? when I heard the news, I felt a shiver of dark delight. My enemy was gone. Thea was broken, now I could shape her as I will. Power coursed through me like fire. Any trace of guilt was buried beneath the intoxicating rush of victory.
For the first time, I believedI was untouchable.
The hospital corridor smelled of bleach and grief. I stood outside the ward with a stupid grin on his face, feeling like I snapped something into place in the world. The darkness inside me had a clarity now, an answer for every small wound I carried. I was about to get in the car when a voice cut through the drizzle.
"Well, hello there, Ducce." Joel leaned against the concrete like he belonged to the night. "You look like you're having fun by yourself. Not fair, man."
I blinked. The smile slipped. "What are you doing here?"
"Visiting a mate who broke his leg," Joel said, casual. "You?" He jutted a thumb toward the ward. "You here for the same kind of fun?"
"Just… wanted to revisit old memories," I answered. I started the car and pulled out; Joel climbed in like it was nothing.
We rolled away under streetlamps smeared by rain. Joel's voice tried for lightness. "How have you been feeling lately, man?"
I kept my eyes on the road. "Fine. Great." The smirk tasted false even to me.
Joel studied me. "You sure? We haven't really met for awhile now, you seem distant" He stopped, measuring. "You okay with what happened? The whole… incident.. I heard he got you pretty bad, but coincidentally he is now in a really bad situation, Karma got Ronnie, maybe he is even dead, I heard some pretty loud screams coming out from his room, did you?"
A flash of anger crossed my face. "Why are you asking me? I couldn't care less about it, he got me good cause he sneaked behind me like a rat" I drove faster, the tires hissing on wet tar.
Joel shrugged. "I'm just saying, forget about that either way the whole situation that our group got into, isn't it really weird. You ever think about those people? The bodies? No plates on the car, no phones. Like they were from a different planet, and how we survive the crash and the freaking powers we have now"
I heard the curiosity, the worry and even a tone of covertness. But another question stabbed: the deep-voiced man who'd walked away at the crash. Why did he leave? I had needed eye contact back then; I couldn't have erased that man's memory. And yet the man had gone away like something called its name, all of a sudden. Something didn't add up.
"Maybe a coincidence," Joel offered. "Or maybe your power went supernova under pressure. You never know."
I let the idea hang between us. "Maybe," I said. "Or maybe he knew more than us."
I dropped Joel off. As I pulled away, Joel called after me: "Gut feeling, man. Things are about to get interesting."
An empty laugh bubbled from me that wasn't laughter at all. Interesting, I thought. That's one word for it.
I went home with one thought looping in my head: I had saved Thea from Ronnie. I needed to be closer to her now, to protect her. To prove that what I did was the right choice. To make everything right.
My thinking process went: Well now, that rat is finally out of the way, there is nothing between me and thea…. Ohhh how great would it feel to be loved by thea…. To hold her hands, to hug her, to sit beside her, to drive around town with her …. I cannot wait. Her eyes, they are like the moon itself, her skin glows like the star and her voice it's like the birds chirping soothing with a melodious tone …. Soon she will be mine and mine alone. She will probably be sad over that dead rat…. But well that's a good opportunity to become her emotional support and her source of happiness, she will be attached to me, we will be together like the birds of a feather, inseparable and enmeshed." As I smile and stare at the ceiling running scenarios in my head about the supposed romance that is about to happen with me and thea, I felt asleep feeling euphoric.
Morning came, it was a beautiful day with the sun shining bright, clear sky and the morning birds chirping. My mom made my favourite breakfast today, I was in a really good mood. My dad and I had a good convo after a long time, this was a rare moment, my mom watched and listened with a smile. I was ranting about my academic progress, about Thea, how she loves me and about my three idiotic friends and their foolish behaviours, which always brings us trouble.
I went back to my room after a good quality time with my family, I opened social media that morning out of habit, a small ritual. Suddenly it got cloudy and rain rattled at his window as my thumb scrolled. Then my body stopped. Screen bright. Eyes wider. Thea's face, I read a caption I could not believe.
She'd hanged herself the night before.
The notification blurred. My chest hollowed until sight tunneled. Grief hit like a fist; a sense of rage; I was consumed by the feeling of a cold numbness of someone who has stepped over a line and cannot go back. Images flooded me: Ronnie convulsing at the party; the hospital bed; Thea's grief audible in my memory. I remember the smile Thea always gave me back then, even if it was out of politeness or for a malicious intent, a pretty girl had never treated me that way before her, she made me feel seen, special. As her image flooded me, I fell to the floor, clutching my head and repeating the same question into my pillow until my voice dissolved: "Why… God… why?"
Days blurred. I stopped leaving the house. The world continued without me: funerals, messages, condolences in flat fonts, people performing grief for an hour and then going home. Vanzz, James, and Joel came to the house eventually, awkward and careful, like men entering a room with a sleeping animal.
"We should go out," Joel said, trying to peel us away from the quiet. "Like old days. Drive. Drink."
We did, more out of ritual than joy. The car smelled like stale beer and regret. Conversation died in predictable places.
"You could have done better," Joel said at one point, the pity in his voice a cut.
"What?" I snapped.
"Nothing," Joel shrugged, eyes narrow. "I'm just saying."
Vanzz's voice, from the back, was softer and more dangerous. "Don't let it consume you, Ducce. Don't let the grief eat you, and you Joel you stay quiet you are already crossing the line, and don't let the power consume you guys"
James laughed a nervous little laugh. "I hope none of you are using it right now."
Joel snorted. "Why would I? You lot are boring."
Tension tightened in the atmosphere, almost suffocating. The easy camaraderie had dissolved; the shared horror had left gaps in the friend group. I watched myself through the side view mirror and saw only shadows of myself and the life I had promised and lost.
At home, the questions multiplied. The crash, the vanished bodies, the magical container, the man with the deep voice, the granny's face and her last struggle, thea's stupid decision all of it tangled in my head. Thea's suicide became a knot i could not unknot. If this world is broken, maybe it can be fixed. If reality was malleable, if memories could be pried and rewritten, maybe something larger is going on. I remembered reading an interesting article a few months ago about a theory that proposes the idea that we could be living in a simulation.
A dangerous thought arrived and settled comfortably: What if this isn't reality at all? What if everything is a simulation, a world where everything feels real but takes place inside a computational mechanism? If so, I can break it. I can undo it. I can save her.
Obsessive hands opened a new tab. I stayed up until the sky paled, devouring papers and forums and lectures. Simulation theory, hypothesis, papers about perception and memory, conspiracy threads that smelled like paranoia but thrummed with possibility. Each click confirmed my sense of exceptionality and my permission to act.
I called the others. They came over: Joel drifting in with the same half-smile, Vanzz like a taut wire, James fidgety as ever. I sat hunched over my desk, laptop open, pages of notes scattered everywhere. My eyes seemed lifeless, but my expression was sharper than ever. When my friends arrived, they found me waiting, serious, unreadable, as if I had already stepped into another world.
Me: "You're not going to believe what I'm about to say, but listen carefully: we are probably not living in base reality."
Vanzz (chuckling): "Oh, come on, Ducce. I know things have been hard for you, but this? These coping mechanisms will only drag you deeper."
James: "For real, bro. You're drowning yourself in internet theories. Go outside, breathe, do something normal."
Joel (leaning forward, unfazed): "Why are you both so surprised? Look at us. These powers we have don't fit physics. Not one bit. Go on, Ducce. Explain."
Vanzz and James exchanged uneasy looks. They weren't convinced, but Joel's calm acknowledgment forced them to listen.
Me: "Exactly, Joel. None of this makes sense under physical law. Abilities like ours should not exist in a reality governed by consistent universal laws. And think about the direction technology is heading, just a decade ago, games looked super unrealistic; now they feel almost real. Also consider the progression in AI technology, now most people rely on it for all sorts of works and projects, with the development in computational power, progress will continue rapidly, and if consciousness is understood as something that arises from biological interference, neurons being organised in a certain way to produce the feeling of subjective experience, we will eventually be able to replicate it. Which means one thing: if it's possible to simulate consciousness even once, then there are not one but billions of simulated worlds. Since if it can be done once, it is most likely it has been done before and we are a product of it on the journey of creating our own simulated world until the cycle keeps continuing. Statistically, we are almost certainly inside one of them right now if this theory is right"
James shifted uncomfortably. Vanzz frowned, his skepticism thinning but not gone.
Joel: "Even if you're right, Ducce, this is still our reality. What can we possibly do to influence the framework we're trapped in?"
Me: "That's what I thought at first. But here's the catch: if consciousness is fundamental, if it can't be copied perfectly, then this world isn't a true simulation in the sense that everything about us being simulated, including consciousness, it's likely a virtual construct where our consciousness has been integrated. Which means our real bodies are elsewhere, in base reality, while we exist here in a manufactured state. And our powers? They aren't random. They could be experiments. Or entertainment. Either way, our powers prove we matter, cause as far as we know we are the only ones with power, so it's most likely that we aren't just random characters in the simulation, but they also indicate we are not in base reality. This theory seems more reliable cause how can no conscious elements give birth to consciousness of this level, it's probably more like micro consciousness coming together to form a bigger one, our biological structure giving it a richer form"
Vanzz: "Even if that's true, then what? What are we supposed to do? Live with the knowledge? Start breaking things?"
Me: "If the theory is right, then yes, we can crack the system. How? By overstimulating consciousness or at least conscious-like behavior until the framework collapses. Look around; most people may not even be fully conscious. If chaos spreads, absolute chaos, the system could overload and force a break, since it takes a great deal of computational power to keep the conscious like beings functioning."
James: "Or… hear me out, we just off ourselves. That would be faster, that's if this is a virtual reality and our real bodies are in a different world"
Me (shaking my head): "I thought about that too. But if our avatars are linked to our real bodies, dying here could kill us there. Suicide isn't an escape; it's a risk we can't afford."
Joel (quietly, almost resigned): "Reality or not, it feels like we're built only to suffer. What if base reality is no different?"
Me (sighing, my voice breaking for a moment): "Then I'd rather suffer on my own terms. I'd rather shape this world into something I can control than stay powerless in a cage someone else designed or at least try."
Vanzz: "Fine. But even if none of it is true, the feelings we experienced are real and that should be enough to not burn the whole thing down."
James: "I agree with Vanzz. But I also get where you're coming from, Ducce. Either way, we need more proof before we gamble with… everything."
Joel (narrowing his eyes): "You're all overlooking something. If this is a simulation, then it's probably being monitored. Every move we make, every decision, it could be scripted already. If so, chaos won't break us free. We'll either be stopped, or we'll do exactly what they expect us to do."
Ducce: "Maybe. But we won't know until we try something that truly changes the course of events."
Joel: "…So, chaos."
Ducce (smiling grimly): "Exactly. Absolute chaos. Are you in?"
Vanzz hesitated, torn in two.
Vanzz: "My instincts are split. Part of me wants to stand with you, but the other part screams to back off. Because even if this world isn't real, even if the people around us may not be 'real,' I feel a deep connection with my mom, my dad, my sister, my friends, my girlfriend, and the feelings are real. I won't gamble their lives on a theory. I won't risk their safety for an outcome none of us can guarantee."
James: "He's right. It's not worth it."
Me (eyes narrowing, voice rising): "We're doing this regardless. There's no way I'll let Thea…."
James (cutting me off, furious): "I knew it. It's always about her. You'd risk millions of lives for one girl? You say they're not real, but they live, they breathe. Who gave you the right to decide their fate?"
Vanzz glanced at James, relieved someone had finally said it. Joel, meanwhile, stared at me intently, waiting to see how I would respond.
Me (defensive, almost pleading): "Yes, Thea was my first reason. But look around! Don't you want to protect your loved ones too? Haven't you noticed how absurd and unpredictable everything has become? Like we're being toyed with? Shouldn't we at least fight back?"
James "Fight back how? If the architects exist, they hold all the power. We live inside their design. You can't win against the framework itself."
Me (slamming the desk, voice shaking with fury and despair): "Even so! I refuse to accept that my existence is meaningless, that I was created for someone's experiment, or worse, their entertainment. If I can't break out, then I'll shape this reality instead. I'll bend it until the truth comes out, even if I have to tear it apart first."
Joel (grinning darkly): "That's the spirit. We won't sit here and be controlled. If they made this reality, we'll carve out our own."
Vanzz looked at Joel with disdain but said nothing.
James (coldly, heading for the door): "Do what you want. But don't drag innocent people into your madness. The dead don't return, no matter how loud you scream."
Me (something snapped, my anger exploding): "WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?!"
I lunged forward, but Joel grabbed my arm, holding me back.
Joel: "Calm down. This won't help. And remember, none of this guarantees anything. All we're doing is gambling with the unknown."
Vanzz (standing as well, shaking his head): "I'm leaving too. One last thing, Ducce: this path you're on? It won't lead to anything good."
The room fell silent. Only me and Joel remained at the table, I was trembling, my notes scattered like broken fragments of my mind.