Page 175 of Fake Game

His background check had come up clean—just a comp sci student with some spare time on his hands as he was job hunting.

As the weeks went on, he started doing more and more outside of the streams. Offering to help moderate my comments and DMs on social media, manage my emails, and even set up a P.O. box for me where he would vet the mail to make sure it was safe for me to open. So, I had him become a pseudo-assistant. He knew privacy was the most important thing to me, and he made my life less stressful by ensuring I was always safe. It helped decrease my anxiety significantly, and I’d been so grateful for that.

I just never noticed how he was using all of that against me—taking that weakness and exploiting it until he became so woven into my life, I couldn’t see the translucent webs he was spinning around me.

At some point, he turned into the man before me—pale skin, hollow eyes, and black buzzed hair.

“I knew you’d come for me.” He grins like he just won a prize. “You even dressed up.”

“Actually, I’m headed to the Streamzies after this.”

It’s going to be the first gaming event that I’ve attended since the convention months ago. I’d made a slight detour to come here today, without telling anyone, and depending on how this went…

I shake myself, halting the potential spiraling of my thoughts.

Rick’s face immediately sours. “You can’t. It’s not safe.”

“So long as you’re behind that glass, I’ll be fine.”

“They’re lying to you. You need me. You’ve always needed me.”

My free hand fists my dress, bunching the material as tight as possible.

“No, I don’t.”

“Don’t play games, Deer. I’m your protector.”

He manipulated me, day by day.

He’d smashed me like a vase, making it so only he could pick up the pieces.

But I can see through the smoke now. The forest view is clearing, and I can easily find the hole he dug in the ground, hoping that I would fall in while blinded, running from the fire that he kept stoking.

I just need to hear it from him. I can’t move on until that last puzzle piece slots in. I’ve tried—tried to heal without speaking to him. But the nightmares are still gripping me with their talons, they’re still ripping screams from my throat and coating my sheets in sweat.

So, here I am, facing my demon.

“You weresupposedto protect me. I was supposed to trust you, but you broke me. You harassed me online, had me swatted, roofied.”

He scoffs. “Because you were slipping away.”

“What?”

“You were mine until you met them.”

“Them?”

“The System,” he spits out. “They took you out to clubs, and parties, and conventions—they were endangering you. You broke your routine for them. And the more you hung out with them, the further you got from me. I’ve been with you from the start, Deer. I’m the one who looks out for you. And you were throwing that away for these flashy guys. It’s your own fault. I had to save you from yourself and remind you it isn’t safe out there.” He raises a hand to the glass. “You know you’re only safe with me.”

Had I created this monster?

Was it my fault?

That sick anxiety swirls in my chest, spinning guilt and fear together. He isn’t wrong. Before Lee introduced me to the guys, I was a homebody. My life was game, stream, sleep, repeat—with the occasional shopping spree and anime binge-watching thrown in here and there. Meeting The System changed everything. I started to live life again. And then as Jackson and I started to become closer and closer…

Am I to blame for pushing Rick to the side? For making him hit a breaking point?

No.

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