Thread

<img src="https://goo.gl/6R2Hk6" height="400" width="704"/> **<u>Thread</u>** Breathe. It’s stifling. Hot air invades your nostrils and the smell of acrid smoke sprinkled with a hint of something else makes you wrinkle your nose. Your own deep breaths are accompanied by crackling flames that sound off to either side, the two noises ebbing and growing in seeming concert. The sweltering heat presses against you, a constant presence that makes you painfully aware of every stinging cell in your body screaming for relief. Moving hurts, but...you rake your thumb nail against your blistered skin and remind yourself that as long as you feel, you are alive. You take another deep breath and immediately feel a roiling lump rise in the back of your throat, but you don’t quite understand why until your brain deciphers the meaty smell and belatedly points out you that all fires must draw their life from somewhere or...someone. Gritting your teeth and forcing the bile back down, your eyes flicker open, only for the heat to worm its way there as well and wick the moisture away to dry nothingness. Blinking, you find yourself in a blackened room that is oddly lighted despite the absence of any source. Heat waves wreak havoc on your vision even though the room you inhabit would put a cubicle to shame, but if you squint you can make out the mottled walls. Just ahead of you, past the heat shimmers, is a door, standing firm and seemingly unaffected by the environment around it. The flameless fire still licks at your ears, and while you’re sure there’s nothing there, the heat being poured out is very real. You need to get out. [[Smell]] [[Look at Walls]] [[Step Forward|Door of Boiling Room]]

Breathe.The cool night air flows past you and you unclench your fists as you stare up into the inviting night sky. The few stars not drowned out by light pollution still draw your eye and offer you an excuse not to do anything. But then your phone rings, and with the moment broken you reach into your pocket and fish it out. On the screen is a simple text: 'Where are you?' You’re embarrassed to admit that it took you longer than it should have to think of the answer and a quick look around to remind yourself that, yes, you’re still where you were before, and the door behind you is gone, replaced by a tranquil scene. The park you’re currently standing in is elegantly perched atop a grassy hill, ringed with a border of lilacs and neatly trimmed hedges and run through with smooth stone paths. Stretching out before and around you lays the city, millions of lights flaring brightly like a pale imitation of the natural spectacle above and ensuring the night was never truly dark. Of course, all the lights are accompanied by a seemingly equal amount of people, and even out here you can hear the distant whines of car horns as said people vent their frustrations at others disrupting their nightly commutes. People . Your thumbs move on their own accord and type the right words even as your mind drifts. 'Courtyard. N of stadium' The response is almost immediate. 'U actually coming? Sweet! The concert will be fun, I promise! :D Remember we’re in row 4, seat 33. Chris and I are waiting. We. We...yeah. Even after months, it’s still odd to think of your significant other as that. But it’s a welcome oddity that’s preferable to being utterly alone. Staring past the phone, you see the concert hall in the distance just below, beams of multi-colored light already shooting out of the open area indicating the event was starting to get underway. Your stomach ties itself into elaborate shapes as you imagine the crowds, but you shake your head; no more excuses. It’s a fairly short walk down, you reckon, before getting to the concert proper. Quick and painless...quick and painless. Find the seat. Find her. Keep moving. [[Keep Moving|Street1]]

The door couldn’t be more than five feet in front of you, but it’s the hardest five feet to cross in your life. Left Left Left Right Left. More than the heat, you have to fight yourself to put one foot in front of the other, the damnable lethargy draping itself over you and imploring you to sit, to stay, only for you to shrug it off and place your hand on the smooth and blessedly cool door, push, and step forward… No going back now. Not now. Not ever. [[Look at Door]] [[Step Forward|Court Yard]]

The park gives way to thin decrepit sidewalks, the hour late enough that aside from a few piles of trash (First pile of trash, second pile of trash, third pile of trash) collecting on the sides, the streets are empty and devoid of light and noise. Which is...odd, and eyeing the crumpled sheets of newspapers and lumps of debris, you can’t help but wonder if it’s on purpose. The feeling nags at you, but another fragment of your mind reminds you that the concert is still a ways down the street, and is probably starting. Your girlfriend’s voice echoes in the back of your mind, reminding you of the promises you swore you’d keep... (set:$Check to 1) [[Check 1st|First Pile]] [[Check 2st|Second Pile]] [[Check 3st|Third Pile]]

It's somehow worse than you could have imagined. The cacophony inside the stadium is deafening, and the people--literally uncountable. Hundreds of bodies writhe and shriek in their seats beneath sweeping neon lights, the morass of people alternating different shades with each second. It takes far too long to disentangle yourself from the crush of humans streaming in from the entrance and find a spot on the staircase not hopelessly packed with people. Leaning on the rail in the middle of the staircase, staring across the bowl-shaped stadium, you curse. Of course you have no idea where you are, and the lighting isn’t helping. Looking around and seeing everyone sitting, sans the security guards sweeping the stairs for standing people (like you), you sheepishly collapse into the first seat you see, damn that it’s not yours. That was an hour ago. Or at least, that’s what it feels like. The watch you’re wearing says it’s only been ten minutes and you begrudgingly concede it knows the time better than you. Even so, the tips of your ears burn as the music drags on. Your girlfriend picked well, the band hitting all the right beats and in general doing a good job, but...it’s just background noise. Every time you squint your eyes, try to tunnel vision and force your brain to focus on the far-away band, the rabid, incessant whispering of the crowd amplifies itself, the noise magnified through sheer numbers. It’s almost surreal. While the sound stays at a near inaudible roar, drowned out by the center stage, it manages to worm its way to the forefront of your mind with the voices seemingly migrating to right next to your face and getting closer, until it feels like some invisible presence is hissing indistinct, caustic venom your ears. Rationally you know no one is there (at least no one that close not in a chair), but the building heat that accompanies the rasping feels all too real... Of course it’s not just your sense of hearing and touch that are rebelling--Your eyes dart about the stadium, scanning the rows of darkened faces. A pair of distant eyes several rows above and to the left of you sticks out from the rest and you zero in on them: cold, calculating, detached. Suspicious...every few seconds you find your gaze on them again, as if expecting them to do something. Hoping, maybe. Three more points of interest grab your attention. Left again, all the way across the stadium opposite you, and below you, to the right. (set:$look to 1) [[Look Left]] [[Look Right]] [[Look Center]]

Before your eyes even absorb the details of your surroundings, you've already pinpointed another cluster of trash in your way that demands your attention. You can't help but be glad that no one can see you standing there looking at the pile… A bog-horn screams at you, and you leap back as a car thunders past you, its headlights leaving afterimages in your retina long after the vehicle streaks past you. Panting and letting the adrenaline leech out of your limbs, you look down at yourself to check that you’re all there. Confirming you are in fact not mincemeat, you stare back at the receding rear of the car, its occupants roaring with laughter, and wonder if you should flip off the driver for making you jump and being douchebags. You look across the road and see a lone person standing there, their eyes glued in the direction the car went in. A moment later, you avert your gaze as you see them turn back around, and both of you start to keep moving in opposite directions. [[Flip them off!|Flip off]] [[Keep Moving|Street3]]

You can spot the stadium where the concert is taking place. It's just a block away, now. Small clumps of people are gathering ahead and you see them all heading to the same event you are. Perhaps it was too much to hope that is be a small, quiet event? You shoot off a message to your girlfriend updating her on your position and feel the phone vibrate in response. Of course now, staring at the energetic reply on your phone screen, your mind asks you, ‘Just why are you doing this?’ Simple question. Simple answer. What's the alternative? As tempting as it is to linger, you have to keep moving. Down the hill. Down the street. Towards the concert. Towards...normalcy [[Keep Moving|Street4]]

It’s literally trash. But you still eye its edges, shifting your perspective ever so slightly, looking between the layers of garbage and listening for...something. Boxy, maybe, though you remember they could come in all shapes and sizes, and the Mark One eyeball isn’t exactly the most sensitive of instruments to work with. (if:$Check is 3)[ [[Keep Moving|Street2]] ] (else:)[ [[Check 2st|Second Pile]] [[Check 3st|Third Pile]] (set:$Check +=1)]

Just...making sure. Like before, you find nothing. But as your eyes come back up, you’re struck by a jolt of fear and cast them back down onto the pile, certain that they’ll see something discolored and metallic any moment now. You even bend forward and get a little closer to the pile. But there’s nothing except a tangy smell that makes your nose wrinkle. (if:$Check is 3)[ [[Keep Moving|Street2]] ] (else:)[ [[Check 1st|First Pile]] [[Check 3st|Third Pile]] (set:$Check +=1) ]

Before you know it you’ve come to a stop and your eyes come to rest on another pile of refuse, hunting for something blocky, something sinister, wrapped in wires and fuses and-- You blink. Why were you just doing that just now? Convinced there was some...threat. A threat, in the middle of the city, waiting to hurt you. Or others. You let out a shaky sigh, one that spreads throughout the rest of your body, before you decide to Keep moving. (if:$Check is 3)[ [[Keep Moving|Street2]] ] (else:)[ [[Check 1st|First Pile]] [[Check 2st|Second Pile]] (set:$Check +=1)]

Looking up you see that you’re standing just outside the concert hall, the deep booming reverbs pouring out of building and through your skeleton almost distracting you from the throng of people cramming themselves into the comparatively diminutive entrance. The entrance you also have to enter through, you remind yourself as you swallow. Your attempts to placate your fidgeting brain by focusing only on who’s waiting for you inside is shattered by the fact that somehow above the bass you can hear the wild cheering of way too many people from just within. The mere sight of the crowd does wonders to your body as it contorts, seemingly trying to drag or shove you in the opposite direction, but you smack your hand against your shoulder and growl. You have a mission, and you intend to carry it out. Yeah. Think of it like that. Merging with the crowd, feeling yourself press up against foreign bodies that slide past you, a dozen elbows, knees, shins, and finger tips prodding at you, each touch stinging you and making your body react, only to come into contact with at least two more curling, grasping limbs. Your legs are on autopilot, and even if they weren’t and you simply froze the sheer weight of the crowd behind you propels you forward, deeper into the stadium. You’re just in it for the ride, now. Keep moving. [[Keep Moving|Concert]]

As you defiantly stick it up to them, you're suddenly struck by how empty and fucking petty the gesture feels. Was it meant to be cathartic? It certainly doesn't feel that way. You can feel your anger simmering beneath the surface, the fading hyena laughter only serving to incense you more. But on the bright side, at least you're angry and not nervous or self conscious anymore...but it’s not like anger is any better. In fact, it's way worse. Gritting your teeth, you refocus.Keep moving. [[Keep Moving|Street3]]

Who are you? Your eyes come to rest on a solitary figure who is an island of calm resting in the sea of outstretched arms. She has her head down and something clasped in her hands, but what you can’t quite make out. It’s...odd, but when you squint- The person you pegged for praying is actually just asleep. How she can do that in this environment is...enviable. Then again, you remember days when after consecutive all-nighters you passed out in a near-coma where nothing would wake you. Looking away, you darkly reflect that you could make the excuse that you’re still trying to find your girlfriend, but that’d be lying. Still your heart hammers, your mind makes deranged demands, and you seek out the other points of interest, keeping in mind the exits. (if:$look is 3)[ [[Focus!|Concert Freak Out]] ] (else:)[ [[Look Right]] [[Look Center]] (set:$look +=1) ]

The youthful face you settle on is nearly blank except for the wide, frightened eyes sweeping across the vista. They’re nervous. Not listening to the music. Looking for things that may not be there. Not fitting in. Just like you. Suddenly a hand falls onto the person’s shoulder and his near-panicked look subsides and is replaced by relief as a friend sits down next to them and whispers something in his ear. The two emit a soundless laughter. You sigh and take stock of the situation. Running your hand down your face, you come away with a sticky, sweat-drenched palm and continue scanning the crowd. There are always more things to look out for, more anomalies, more distractions, surely... (if:$look is 3)[ [[Focus!|Concert Freak Out]] ] (else:)[ [[Look Left]] [[Look Center]] (set:$look +=1) ]

Another pair of eyes from across the stadium--okay, it’s more the posture than anything, a barely discernible outline in the distance, is smartly calm and collected in stark contrast to the leaned forward and cheering bodies around them. You rub your eyes, and when you look across again they’re gone, or have melded into the crowd in cheering at the conclusion of a song. You quietly duck your head, shaking it, only for the rasping blur of malformed words and whispers to assault you with twice the ferocity and make you visibly twitch in the directions of the other points of interest. (if:$look is 3)[ [[Focus!|Concert Freak Out]] ] (else:)[ [[Look Right]] [[Look Left]] (set:$look +=1) ]

Breathe. In. Out. Up ahead, you can hear the frost-laden wind rushing by and see the dirt path; somehow you ended off of it and are now surrounded on three sides by thick pine trees, their spindly branches splayed out above you and forming a small canopy that blocks all view of the sky above, forming a small buffer against the wind and casting you in semi-darkness. You want to say that it’s peaceful and secluded, but that would be a blatant lie: while there’s no one around for miles, every now and then you have trouble telling if it’s the wind that’s whistling or someone else, watching. Judging. But there’s no one behind the tree. You come here because it’s far away from anyone else and doesn’t make the hairs on the back of your neck stick up like concerts... A sharp snap makes you flinch, only for you to look down and see a lighter clutched in your hands, having just been snapped open by you. You feel your lips quirk and realize a cigarette is dangling there, waiting for a light. A single motion of the hand is enough to produce the fire, but you hesitate as you bring it up towards your face. You told yourself that you were going to quit smoking, but a voice rattles in the back of your mind, Don’t think. Just relax. Your phone rings again, reminding you that you probably should keep moving and head back to the house, but a few more moments shouldn’t hurt. What to do, what to do... [[Phone]]

It keeps on ringing, but you ignore it for now. Right now you’re trying to unwind. Emphasis on try. Maybe when you’re walking back you’ll take a look. [[Light Cigarette]] [[Drop Cigarette]]

Relax. You need this. You hope so, because even as you can feel the old stress burning away, a new one bubbles to the surface, but slightly more subdued and tolerable. Maybe this was a better idea than you thought. Or a horrible one. You eye the forest path ahead of you and take a long drag before putting it out. Time to keep moving. [[Keep Moving|Forest2]]

Simply letting the paper cylinder slip between your fingers, you watch it tumble to the ground and then promptly crush it with your shoe. You said you were quitting, so that’s that. Feeling slightly better about yourself, you eye the forest path ahead of you. Time to keep moving. [[Keep Moving|Forest2]]

Cold, wintry wind whips all around you, howling in your ears and leaving your eyes smarting. Standing in the middle of the path, you’re now exposed to the elements, the way the land is sculpted forming a makeshift wind tunnel, with you at its center. To the left and right, walls of towering pine trees stretch into the foggy sky like so many fingers, so tall that they almost look like they’re curling inwards, closing around you--You shudder. Treading forward, you start to see white flakes drift downwards, coming to rest on the dirt, and look back up. It’s starting to lightly snow. The foreboding clouds don’t give you any indication if the weather’s a fluke or the start of something more severe. Once more, you feel your phone vibrate with new texts and finally decide to fish it out and look at the messages. The amount of backlog surprises even you, and you skim through them, guilt building as you do so. 'Come home' Just respond.' 'Please?' Keep moving. [[New Text Message]]

Come home. Snowflakes pelt your rapidly numbing face as the storm worsens. You’re mildly surprised at how bad it’s gotten, and between squinted eyes you can barely make out what’s ten paces in front of you, nevermind where exactly you’re going. Your annoyance gives way to concern for a fleeting moment. It’s more than cold--it’s freezing, and you realize that you haven’t been able to feel your fingers and toes for the past minute. But as long as you keep yourself in between the trees though, you’ll find your way back. Or so you tell yourself. But then you look again and even the trees seem to have left you, leaving you alone in a field of unending white. Since the trees are thinning out now (or you’re lost because you failed to follow that one simple objective), you should be close to home. Home. In your mind you picture the building, its warmth, the people...and it all just feel ominous. Or some...thing that exists, is genuine, but masked beneath a veil and kept just out of reach. Maybe the texts got to you more than you care to admit. Or the cold. You beat your hands against your legs and growl. It’s a mix, probably. Whatever your feelings on the matter, you need to keep moving forward. [[Keep Moving|Forest4]]

Left Left Left Right. Like a bloody mantra that thought echoes in your head ceaselessly. Even the snide joke levelled at your numb feet has wormed its way into the tedium, having lost its humor long ago. The fact that the cold is barely bothering you now is really concerning. But there’s nothing for it, other than cursing yourself and wondering what new injuries you’ll get from this and what you’ll tell your few friends. You dimly realize that you only have a couple, and even then you feel as if you don’t keep up with them enough or know them as well as you should. If you knew them better maybe you’d be able to ask what to do or how to cope with all this. As it is, you can’t see them doing anything besides ignore you or wince. Okay, maybe you shouldn’t tell this story to them. It’s not a particularly funny story and it’s too whiny. Maybe you should find friends that you ‘can’ tell it to. That little thought immediately sends a wave of regret coursing through you. Your friends aren’t the problem--you are, with the sheer amount of worries you bring with you, constantly dragging them through your issues or threatening to, and not being there when they need it. Gulping, you look across at the foggy, snow-covered landscape and see absolutely nothing. Then the house appears before you almost like magic, its features slowly becoming sharper as you get closer. You briefly take in the familiar sloped roof, the homey, if frosted over front porch, the well-worn grooves etched into the stairs leading to the door, and the slightly concave garage door that may or may not have been your doing. The smirk that briefly makes it to your face dies when you recall what she said about it, and what her last texts promise to bring. The lights are on. There’s no way to avoid this, especially since getting inside is now a matter of health. Keep moving. [[Keep Moving|House]]

The clean lines of the house invite you in. Behind some walls you can hear some movement, as someone is doing some kind of work. Hopefully they haven’t heard you ye-- Before you can grab it, the door closes and the attached bell rings, causing the other person to stop and the house to fall silent. Inwardly you wince. Not that stopping the bell would have blocked the roaring sound of the blizzard, but...there was no avoiding this. Pulling off your boots and placing them on the mat by the door, you wind your way through the spacious living room and kitchen, edging your way around each corner and leaning away from the walls, as if trying to not incur some beast’s wrath. Not that your girlfriend would be thrilled by the comparison. Peeking around a final corner and seeing a solitary figure standing in the dining room, waiting for you, you gulp, stand straight, and walk into the room like nothing happened. You quickly scan the room and note the two dishes on the table. Or rather, the one planted on the dinner table and the other one upended and splattered against the carpet, undoubtedly going to leave a stain. In the back of the room there’s a half-decorated Christmas tree next to the grandfather clock, the steady clicking metronome of the clock all that was piercing the silence in the room. Coughing, your girlfriend begins tapping her foot to the beat of the grandfather clock, and you blow out your cheeks while looking in every direction but her, hoping that will put off the talk... The window and outside view look beautiful. So does the food, too, come to think of it. [[Look at Food|Food]] [[Look at Christmas Tree|Christmas Tree]] [[Talk to her|Talk]] [[Look out Window|Window]]

Ah. Ravioli. Your favorite. When it’s not on the ground and staining the carpet you’re going to have to clean, of course. [[Talk to her|Talk]]

From the looks of it, it seems that your girlfriend was in the middle of decking it out when you waltzed in. [[Talk to her|Talk]]

You blow through your lips. ‘So…’ ‘So.’ Silence once more sets in. At first it’s just a few guarded questions, repeats of the texts that are simple to answer...as long as you answer literally. ‘And?’ And? You fear the coming question, but maybe if you play it off, clarify, it won’t come to tha- ‘WHY?’ She leans in as she practically yells that in your face, and you swallow as she asks it. You aren’t even sure of the answer yourself. But she’s not having any of it. ‘So why not TELL ME? WE’VE TALKED ABOUT THIS. I CAN HELP, YOU KNOW!’ She’s not...she’s not actually screaming. But she might as well be. ‘WHILE YOU’RE AT IT, WHY NOT JUST WALK OVER OR CALL? YOU WERE CLEAR ACROSS THE STADIUM! SURELY THAT TAKES LESS WORK THAN BUYING A PLANE TICKET AND HIGHTAILING IT OUT OF THERE!’ BreathebreathebreatheBREATHE--only on that last exclamation do you feel your nostrils expand and a rush of air diffuse through your system. Your brain barely registers the sensation, the cool air bouncing off the wall of heat emanating from your head and stubbornly sticking there. Before long a bubble of clashing hot and cold air seems to balloon between your skull and apply pressure. That’s...not how headaches or anything in your body works. But the earsplitting migraine that’s started hijacks any rational train of thought. She notices it too, and it only serves to embolden her. ‘LAST TIME YOU SAID YOU DIDN’T HAVE ENOUGH TIME TO GO! NOW--YOU KNOW THAT WE HAD PLANNED FOR THAT NIGHT FOR WEEKS! I EVEN BROUGHT CHRIS ALONG--’ You gulp and meekly ask her to not bring Chris into this. ‘HE WANTED TO BE THERE! HE WANTED TO SEE YOU WHILE WE WERE IN TOWN! IF YOU HAD A PROBLEM, YOU SHOULD HAVE TOLD US!!!’ Nope. Wrong thing to say. What, what else? What else was there?! You’re now shaking, and only by virtue of holding your hands behind your back does she not notice. Oh, this is bad. Way worse than it’s ever gone before. Every sputter that leaves your mouth is undignified, imparts the wrong message. Meanwhile every single one of your missteps is met with a ruthless advance by her, pummeling you so fast you struggle to remember even what you want out of this conversation. Out, of course, you think between shouted statements. ‘You want to stay out so much? Then stay out. OUT.’ [[Surrender to Pain|Your mind]]

Nevermind. On second glance, every time you look out at the cold you feel the urge to rub your hands together and pat the powdery snow off your head and shoulders. As soon as you do that though more of it ends up on the ground, eliciting a sharp ‘MMmm…’ from your girlfriend. Perhaps not the wisest thing to do... [[Talk to her|Talk]]

Has she stopped yelling? When did she start? Is she yelling still? No, her voice has dropped to a near whisper. Your eyes widen as you digest her words. Yes, you were fading in and out of the argument. Yes, she brought that up too, and how this was the third time they were arguing about something like this. And yes, you sometimes retreated, but it was always with the intention of coming back. But she wasn’t wrong. You can’t explain your actions, and you’ve always felt like she put up with more than she should have...guess now she’d reached her breaking point. Nothing more needs to be said. Feeling like the world had dropped out beneath you, you dejected watch as the door looms before you, larger and more terrible than ever. ‘I don't like the man I am with..’ The shredded shambles of your mind manage to mutter as the door closes, Me neither… [[Surrender to Pain|Suicide Note 2]]

Breathe. JUST DO IT. Your nostrils flare shakily and your body shudders as the meditative technique only half works, allowing you to shed one layer of emotional fat while the rest of the bubbling, seething mass inside you writhes and screams. The emotional bubble lashes out, heavy impulses of need, fury, helplessness, and emptiness battering itself against your mental barriers. All you can do is pinch the bridge of your nose, blink away the mist in your eyes, and ignore the ball of regret and pains swelling inside you. Where have you run off to now? Almost fearfully, you open your eyes. The scene that greets you is decked out in supersaturated reds, greens, and blues, blocky floating platforms dangling in space before you while a cartoonishly large sun with a smile on its face lights the linear obstacle course. In the distance you can see cheery-looking mounds of pixelated enemies, armed with stubby appendages and comically huge eyes, dot the planescape. Before you can take a closer look, a large block of bolded letters descends in front of you, and suddenly in your hands you find yourself cradling a rectangular controller. Pressing the start button before the game even prompts you to do so, you see the game title replaced with a menu of text, simply reading: 'Reach the end of the course. Avoid or jump on top of enemies (an arrow helpfully flitters over one of the squat figures you saw earlier) as you proceed through the level, but watch for traps!' Finally something straightforward. You can almost smile as your thumbs dance over the controls, a bubble appearing above your head and reminding you to go forward and keep playing. [[Keep Playing|Level 128]]

You leap on top of another anthropomorphized toad/robot/enemy (the games sort of blend together, you realize) and smile as you reach out with your hand and tap the goal. Your eyes light up as the numbers next to the score tick up, up, and up, and the game asks if you want to continue. Is that even a question? Your thumbs hit the ‘Next’ button automatically, and your lips quirk as your fingers slip on account of how sweaty you are. Wiping your hands on your knees and bouncing around as you dutifully wait until the next level loads, you peer up above the rapidly forming landscape and at the night sky. Night? Before you can think about it, the sky is replaced with sunlight again and the new level lays stretched out before. Warily picking up the controller again, you hop and smash your way through another hallway of obstacles when you notice it’s dark again, the warm glow of the sun cooling to the pale reflection of the moon. When you leap to the next platform, the sun’s risen again. Jumping to the next platform continues the cycle, heat suddenly transformed into biting cold, and back again as the sun and moon alternate positions. Soon, you don’t even need to cross a platform--the sun and moon are flying above you, swinging past each other so fast that they only leave streaks in the sky. The temperature follows the blindly fast pattern of the sun and moon, flipping at a nauseating speed that makes your insides twist and growl. Wiping away a new layer of palm sweat, you steel your gaze as best as you can and reach for the goal. It’s...nothing to ah...no...worry...just keep playing. [[Keep Playing|Level 343]]

An enemy jumps out at you when you least expect it and the words ‘Try Again?’ hang above your head, taunting you and making you seethe. You just need to time it right this time. Run forward. When the hammer falls, jump to the left, but not too far, or else you’ll hit the fireball… You tug at your shirt collar, trying once again to rub away the beads of sweat that have accumulated there, and press the ‘Continue’ button. As you proceed through the level this time though, you notice a...haze start to waft up from the inaccessible sides of the corridor, and are blindsided again by the same enemy. Growling, you mash the ‘Continue’ button and begin again, this time leaving cracks in the floor with each step forward that you take. Heat waves wreak havoc on your vision even though the hallway you inhabit is barely a hundred meters across. Great. Now you find yourself confronted with a lava level. You aren’t quite sure when the scene transitioned to it, or even how it happened, but regardless...nothing to do but keep playing, trying to ignore the crackling flames occurring somewhere just outside your peripherals. [[Keep Playing|Level 4083]]

As you leap forward from the boss’s latest attack, the monstrous construct hurls another anthropomorphized cackling bomb at you and the resulting wave of pressure and heat are depressingly familiar to you and dredge up memories that got you into this mess in the first place. Out of the corner of your eye you see a bomb land next to you, and before you can get out of the way a wave of shrapnel flies out and you’re nailed. But thankfully games are nothing like real life, and you’re just winded. Or...somewhat. Your body still works, but immediately after your thumbs reach for the buttons, you’re shocked into still silence. You can smell it again: the hot air, entering your nostrils and bringing with it the aroma of cooked flesh and pruning metal. Your body betrays you, as misfiring ears pop and crackle, conjuring sounds of flames that aren’t there. Sweat pores previously thought empty start pouring again. You become acutely aware you haven’t drank anything in a long time, and feel all the more parched. You should get up, pick yourself up and do something. Grab a drink, take a shower. Eat. But then your thumbs are moving again and you deal the final blow to the boss, who falls to their doom and reveals another long corridor behind them that terminates in a plain door. Above you, it is day and night simultaneously. There are no stars or moons. A white-tinged ring formed by the afterimage of the speeding celestial bodies obscures much of the sky, the inky blackness of space appearing threatening and repulsive for once. The ground...through the haze you can see a dark viscous substance bubbling its way to the surface from the many cracks you’ve left in your wake. Like shattering glass, the tiny spiderweb of cracks rapidly spread outwards by leaps and bounds, curling upwards until even the sky is peeling. From the depths of space, so impossibly close now, the black substance oozes. The heat they bring with them is intense and your body shakes as you realize how you’re right back in that boiling room; you’ve barely moved. In fact, for all intents and purposes, you might as well have not moved at all. [[Keep Playing|Level 4084]]

The smoke swirls around you, drifting upwards before joining its brethren clinging to your ceiling. The fan above you slowly and impotently swats at the curling grey cloud that’s so thick it’s like a fog hanging over you, but you barely notice. Blinking your bloodshot eyes and removing the cigarette from your mouth, dumping it in the pile with the rest of them in the overflowing ashtray, you look up from your laptop screen and scan the wreck of an apartment around you. Though calling it an apartment would be...generous. Yellow light filters through the one curtained window on the side of wall while the waft of unwashed dishes from your kitchen/bathroom blends with the smoky living/bed room that you’re in. There’s only a few patches of wood flooring and carpet (which is already patchy as is) that aren’t littered with clothes, papers, and other things that would be considered debris at best. The place is otherwise spartan in decorum; there’s the chair you’re sitting in, TV on the opposite wall, and fold-out bed stashed to the side, and a box of belongings in the darkest corner of the living space that you’ve barely touched since ever. You shake your head and rub your hand across your sweat-stricken face. Of course the AC is broken, so the almost claustrophobic space always feels like an oven. It’s a lucky day when the muffling heat doesn’t paralyze you or make you feel like you’re reliving certain old memories... Sinking deeper into the chair, you tear yourself out of the monologue that you mentally go through on a daily basis and back towards the computer screen that holds the message. --- 'I am so sorry, everyone. By the time you read this, well. You’ll hear about it. If not from the news, then friends, friends of friends, or someone else. Or maybe you’ll never hear. Maybe it’s better that way.' --- You know you haven’t been keeping up with most of your friends, but of the ones that remained, you thought that Chris was...okay. At least, you two got along, even after your breakup. The dull pang of anguish that comes from that last thought amuses you. Even after all this time, it’s still a sore subject, but with every day that passes, every utterance and reminder, the pain fades and you can forgive her a bit more. It was understandable because she couldn’t understand why you weren’t able to do the same things. It still baffles you, sometimes. You read on. 'I watched as everyone left me behind, moving forward with their lives...saying that they needed me but then abandoning me. Well guess what? I needed you too, because I can’t keep up! I can’t-I can’t do it anymore. The song and dance, the empty gestures, putting on a brave face while not fitting in...I’m just so tired. [[Surrender to Pain|Despair]]

Relaxing, your breathing becomes steady. Inhale. Exhale. You feel the air push itself out of your lungs and the deflating sensation ripple throughout your entire body. But it has no true calming effect: as the wave travels down your body, all it reveals are irritated, itchy muscles, creaking bones, and an emotional ball somewhere in your gut whose many writhing arms slash through whatever little resistance you have left. And the smell-oh God the smell. No matter what you do, seared flesh is all your nose perceives. The ever present headache that accompanies you nowadays gnaws on your brain, but between the rest of the pains it’s just more background noise. In a way it makes the aching easier to bear, being diffused across your entire body, and you’re able to relegate all that pain to background noise...why you couldn’t do it before is so typically you. Looking around once more, you find yourself at the bottom of a rather long and spiraling staircase. Just a few more steps and you’ll reach the platform the stairway is connected to. You can’t help but notice that the platform isn’t connected to anything. In fact, the stairway isn’t either: both are suspended impossibly far up in the sky, or perhaps in the middle of nowhere. That wouldn’t surprise you. No more than anything else that’s happened. The indistinct features of the area outside the staircase doesn’t give you any clues as to what exactly is out there. Based on the scalding wind though and how your body’s warning mechanisms are going off full tilt, you’re inclined to believe you’re high in the sky somewhere. Looking forward, the end of the platform is in sight. Might as well go there. Not much else to do except look up and step forward. As always. [[Look up]] [[Step Forward|Step2]]

Falling back to old habits, you look up, and are greeted with the weirdest sight: the rest of the chaotically spiraling staircase, except that there are segments of the staircase that seems to be wrapped around different colored environments. Directly above you, you see a faintly yellow and curling grey fog. Above that, an assortment of colorful blocks that are overflowing with black goo. A house of pain, suffering, and realization. Cold, blissful snow. The overwhelming crush of people in enclosed spaces. Winding streets. A beautiful courtyard. And...of course, that boiling, festering place. Despite it all, you feel a grin come to your face. Down, down, down the spiral. That’s all your life’s become, isn’t it? Distilled into a single delicious mental image.Step forward. [[Step2]]

You take another step, and reflect, using your newfound power to ignore your physical discomfort to get in a solid thought. There’s no denying what happened. Or the why. Who knows, maybe the why, or the how, and what if. You’ve gone over it so many times in your head and told yourself so many different answers you don’t know which one you believe. But you’re here now, going forward...right? We must see this through. It’s not too late… Inwardly, you crack a smile. Figures your mind was just as broken as your body, because now you’re hearing two voices. Three more steps.Step forward. [[Step Forward|Step3]]

Ever forward. Ever onward. As the saying goes. As you plant your next foot forward, you feel a stirring in your mind. Not exactly a headache, but an aggravating presence that snakes its way down and makes the soreness and pain flare up. It’s better this way. Must we let go? The fact that there are two voices saying different things is telling. Is one really saying--hm. You didn’t think they were around anymore. Two steps.Step forward. [[Step Forward|Step4]]

You feel the fatigue recede even further as your feet connect with the next step. Yes, it hurts. Yes, it hurts. That’s the point. One step.Step forward. [[Choose]]

20 Veterans a day commit suicide 1-800-273-8255 The End Thank you for Playing Thread [[Credits]]

Through the palms of your hands you notice a faint glow. Wiping your eyes and dropping them to your sides, you notice a thin tinted thread that’s snaked its way between your legs. Both sides in your body’s civil war pause, and tilting your head you bend down and scoop up the fragile looking thing and see it extending…to your side. The thread illuminates its own path, trailing off the side of the platform yet somehow levitating, and you feel your body groan, as if you’re trying to rip yourself out of bed when you deserve some sleep. Already the fatigue is coming back in full force, but you hold steady, and slowly follow the thread, hesitantly stepping over the edge of the platform but being pleasantly surprised when your foot meets resistance. You don’t know where you’re going! And you did? Look where that took us. Left. Left Left Right Left Left. Left Left Right Left It’s getting oddly hard to keep on walking, and as you look up and realize what’s happening, you find that you don’t care. For once, you’re going up. 20 Veterans a day commit suicide 1-800-273-8255 The End. Thank you for Playing Thread. [[Credits]]

I don’t think I can ever eat pork again, you think. The smell of it--you gulp--is both simultaneously similar and absolutely unique to meat you’ve eaten before, except the flesh you’re smelling now had a name, thoughts, ambitions...Breathing slowly out of your mouth to wash the odor out of your nose you refocus, but the same thought forces itself into your conscious: You need to get out. Step forward. [[The Boiling Room]]

They’re...dripping, globules of a dark something slouching off the surface and forming bubbles. Because that’s not worrying at all. One of the bubbles pop and sends another scalding blast of air straight at you, the heat caressing the tip of your nose and cheeks and leaving behind burns as you curl your fists. Hissing through the pain, your body screams and reminds you: You need to get out. [[The Boiling Room]]

A lone island of stability in a eight-by-eight oven awash with heat waves, the wooden door promises an escape from this charnelhouse. Regardless of where it leads, it must be better than where you are currently. The door remains just out of your reach, but just take a few steps forward... Yes, that is a way out. [[Door of Boiling Room]]

Looking further back in the history paints an even grimmer picture. ’Hey, where’d you go?’ Scroll down. ’I didn’t see you at the concert. Back at the hotel?’ Scroll past three. ’Where did you go? All your stuff is gone. Did you leave?’ It doesn’t take long for the all-caps to come into play. ’WHAT THE HELL? You bought a plane ticket without telling me and…’ You don’t even finish reading that one, and skip past all the ones that start with capital letters. But somehow what comes next is worse. ‘Look, I know you have...issues regarding events. Guess that one’s on me. But I needed you at the concert. There were some weirdos who wouldn’t leave me alone, and it got worse after I told them you were coming and you didn’t. Lucky nothing happened, and I found my friends later.’ ’You going to pick me up?’ Your girlfriend wasn’t the only one messaging you though; even Chris had something to say about it. ’Hey, she just told me what happened. How are you holding up?’ After that, it was back to her. ‘I see your car parked outside. Where are you?’ ’Come home’ ‘Just respond.’ ’Please?’ You thumb your phone off, and sigh. Come home. Numbly, your feet crunch through the thickening slush that is the ground as you keep moving down the forest path. Of course you had to be out here right now when it starts snowing. [[Keep Moving|Forest3]]

From behind the bubbling goop pooling at your feet, larger-than-life screens push their way to the surface, more text messages from friends and families that you’ve ignored. Some are reminders of better times, from ignorant friends unaware of recent happenings. Some are mere invitations for events you no longer have a taste for. Others surprise you, as friends go through promotions, make names for themselves. Your old girlfriend is getting married. Married...it leaves a stale taste in your mouth, and you feel all the more petty. You’re still puzzling this through when you a cinema-screen-sized text pushes itself to the forefront armed with the message: 'Hey bro, it happened last night and you missed it! We have a little girl now. She’s called...' Your thumbs grind to a halt. Throughout all of this, you...totally forgot that you even had a brother. Who just had a kid. When did this happen? With who? You rack your mind for details, but literally nothing comes up. But then that thought comes back to haunt you: you forgot you even had a brother. He’s living his life without you; they all are! You’re missing everything, and you’re reacting like when your ex got married: all gaping and wasting your meaningless time-- It’s sweltering. You’re gripping the game controller so tight you can feel the plastic crack beneath your grip. Looking down and seeing a long scar trace across the surface of the rectangular prism, you try to drop the controller, but find you can’t. As if on cue the cable, invisible before, begins to migrate in the direction of the door and coiling until you feel it grow taut. Suddenly you feel a jerking sensation, and you’re yanked off your feet and into light of the now open door… [[Surrender to Pain|Note]]

It sounds so ridiculous when I say it like that. Childish, almost, because I just described every teenager’s worries. Hah. That’s the first time I think I’ve laughed in awhile, I think. Real, genuine, laughter. If nothing else, it’s a happy note to end on.' To the left and right of the message are windows showing various posts across social media websites, of people Chris hadn’t met for years gushing about how they never suspected that he was capable of this, how no one could have ever suspected. Others were telling malformed stories about him, how he was when he was happy, even when in his final message he was pretty adamant that it wasn’t real and he was miserable all the time. You don’t correct them, of course. No need to be a pissant...Lord knows you’ve done enough of that. 'But it’s so much more. I can’t explain it. If I could, I don’t think I would be writing this, and if you all could, I don’t think it would ever happen. But it does happen. Maybe it’s just the way it is, that some people can’t understand it. Honestly...I’d prefer they don’t. Better the world have some innocence than everyone running around deranged, mad, hopeless.' You settle over the final word on the page, more mist in your eyes. So abrupt. But this was where you imagined his strength faded, where he said, 'No more' and left it at that. 'Goodbye.' You pause at the end of the letter, where the blinking insertion point cursor lingers. All it would take is a few keystrokes and your name would be there. A weight off your shoulders. A declaration and resolution to do it. A final...promise. Your ears ring. Peering up from the screen and inhaling the musky, smoky odor of the room, you see a door in front of you. The final door, perhaps. As if sensing you lacked the will to move to it, the door flings itself open and flies towards you, swallowing you whole. Surrender to pain. [[Surrender to Pain|Step1]]

The staircase ends abruptly. You’re...almost surprised as your feet connect with the platform. The whole apparatus is made of some glass-like substance, but standing on the platform is the first time that you become acutely aware of the fact. You look down through the platform, and behold nothing. Nothingness, in any direction. As your feet carry you to the edge of the platform you feel...a great...something, neither pain nor the relievement of it. But as soon as your toes leave solid ground you feel a tug at the back of your throat with tingles falling off your spine, a fleeting moment of sensation from some part of your tired mind shouting something that you don’t know if you fully understand. Burying your face into your hands, you feel tears well up. Half of you, it seems, still has strength to fight. The other half is to dejected to put up any meaningful resistance, but that in itself is a kind of an answer. Both sides clash in their conflicting, unspeaking, confusing ways. It seems as though you understand your mind and body as well as you know how to react to other people. However, you know that one side will only lead to pain, while the other...a tear trails off the platform and drops out of your view. I am so tired. When can I rest? Two voices scream out. Now and Forever. Surrender to pain! I don’t know. I can only ask you to follow the thread of hope, and maybe, someday, find happiness and acceptance. Well now. What’s it to be? [[Surrender to Pain|Death]] [[Follow the Thread|Life]]

During nights out on the town what give you the best time? [[Drinking?|Passed Out]] [[Hard Drugs?|Chemical Bliss]] [[Sex?|Someone Else's House]]

(set:$Vice to "drinking") Welcome to ***Thread***. This game contains mature topics such as sex, drugs, and drinking. [[Start|The Boiling Room]]

(set:$Vice to "drugs") Welcome to ***Thread***. This game contains mature topics such as sex, drugs, and drinking. [[Start|The Boiling Room]]

(set:$Vice to "sex") Welcome to ***Thread***. This game contains mature topics such as sex, drugs, and drinking. [[Start|The Boiling Room]]

(if: $Vice is "drinking")[ Even though your girlfriend hates it you find yourself at a club. The music is the same old shit you hear on the radio. You think to yourself. I am getting to old for this shit. However, you stay because this is the drinking spot. You know the bartender. Every few weeks you slip him a few hundred bucks and have open bar status. You cut lines and get free drinks. This is good because you want to get Fucked Up!! Throughout the night you drink. In "memory" of Doc. Nobody comes talks to you. You don't try to talk with anyone else. You just drink. You drink until the bar closes. You decided that you are not that drunk and drive home. Luckily you get home safely without getting pulled over. Your girlfriend is waiting in your apartment. She is not pleased. She says something to you but you don't care. You just want to lay down. Once you lay down you realize how drunk you are. You get the spins and throw up. You forget. You forget everything that has happened to you in the past. All of the shit that you went through downrange. You like to forget. [[Pass Out|Forest1]] ] (if: $Vice is "drugs")[ Even though your girlfriend hates it you find yourself at a club. The trance music reaches into your soul and you are ready to let loose. You have partied here for years now. This place is where you find the other people that like to party. You decide it's an X night. You eventually find your dealer. He tells you ” I got this new shit that will make you forget everything except for the music.” You ask “What is it?” “Its a mixture of coke and ecstasy. I call it paradise” You have never done coke before. But you NEED this. You NEED to let loose. You take what he is offering. During the night you feel amazing. You haven't felt this good in years. You dance and drink and dance some more. The next few days are you partying and taking more paradise. You forget. You forget everything that has happened to you in the past. All of the shit that you went through downrange. You know your girlfriend has tried to text and call you but you don't care. You are going to have a good time partying. Eventually, you get home. You lay down. [[Pass Out|Forest1]] ] (if: $Vice is "sex")[ Even though your girlfriend hates it you find yourself at a club. The music is the same old shit you hear on the radio. You think to yourself. I am getting to old for this shit. However, this club is where you have spent a lot of time in the past. You know the staff and they know you. They treat you like royalty here. You skip the line. You get cheap drinks. You are a regular. Doing the normal rounds in the club to spot a really hot girl. You have a nice buzz going on so you decide to approach her. When you get to her open a conversation. She seems nice enough to have sex with. So you lay the charm on. She responds in kind with her flirtation words and body language. After a few minutes, you go for the touch. She repones with a smile and kisses you. She whispers in your ear. “Let’s get out of here” And you let her drag you out of the club. An hour later you two are in her bed. You forget. You forget everything that has happened to you in the past. All of the shit that you went through downrange. After you exchange numbers and you uber home. You go to bed remembering the sex you just had. You like to forget. [[Sleep|Forest1]] ]

You wake up with a start. You forget what you were dreaming about but your sheets are drenched with sweat. "Well," you tell yourself,"I am not going to sleep anytime soon." So you get up and get on the computer. Without thinking you open up your BookFace account. While scrolling down you see commits on a friend's post that you were in with. "Don't do it man" "Pick up your phone" "We love you" You scroll up and you see a letter. Your heart sinks into your chest. You recognize this type of letter. You have seen so many of these before. But those were people that you didn't really know. This was from the Medic. The post reads: ---- Dear Battle Buddies, I have fought and fought but I am so so tired. I am sorry I could not save him. I am sorry I fail you guys. We were a family down range but I failed you all. I could not save **Armstrong**. I want you all to know that you should keep going. Keep being strong. That is my medical advice. Doc ---- Getting to the end you remember what Doc did for you. He carried you after you sprained your ankle in a firefight. You remember "Really man, you got all these bullets flying around and you sprain your ankle?" he said laughingly with his big infectious smile. "Next time I am going to just cut the foot off". In his memory, you decide to go out for the night. **RIP Doc....** [[Etch The Name]]

WTF just happened. You are not sure what went wrong. You are not sure how to fix it. You thought she was the one. She actually got you. She actually gave you light in this dark world. You try to find release on the internet. There are no tears. You couldn't cry even if you tired. After a few minutes looking at BookFace. You see it. Another one. Another friend that lost their battle. --- I am sorry it has come to this. Many people think that they understand. I heard thank you for your service it seems like hundreds of thousands of times. WTF is there to thank me for. I wish they would stop looking at me as a hero. What I did over there cannot be forgiven. I have lost everything. My wife, my son, my parents. They told me that they would always be there for me but they were not. I don't blame them. I treated them like shit. I forced them out of my life. I forgive you. What I don't forgive is myself. He took my place while I was on leave. He should be here and not me. He was young, smart, and a good soldier. It should have been me. To my family. I forgive you. There is nothing that you could have done for me. It will hurt right now but eventually, you will move on. To my wife Brooke. Marry someone that can love you better then I can. Go on and forget about me. Go on and Love again. I love you. To my son Jason. I love you. You are an intelligent strong young man. Remember the good and bad things about me. You can learn from anybody. You can learn how to and how not to. Son, take care of your mother for me. I am sorry to put this on you but you are better off without me in the long run. I know it is going to hurt but you will get through it. I love you. To my parents. Thanks for always having my back. Thanks for sticking it out as long as you did. I will not be a burden on you ever again. Thanks for pushing me to be better. I am sorry I could not live up to your expectations. I love you. To PFC Smith's family. I am so sorry. It should have been me. I should have been in the truck. Do not feel bad because I am doing this. Your son was a great person he always we smile. He was light-hearted and a treasure to loss. Goodbye world. ---- You get done reading the post. You remember that SGT White went on mid-tour leave and PFC Smith stepped in for him. During that week a dump truck full of explosives drove into the truck PFC Smith was it and 4 others. SGT White was a great NCO. He got to know his soldiers. He was a rock. His 3rd deployment was with you. **RIP SGT White...** [[Etch the Name|Etch the Name 2]]

(if: $Vice is "drinking")[ You find yourself in a new place. That old place was too loud and expensive. You need cheap drinks tonight. This place is a local dive called “The Watering Hole”. This place isn't too bad actually. Friendly bartender, friendly people, random coke heads running around, and the most important thing cheap drinks. Tonight you are drinking to “honor” another battle buddy that committed suicide. So you start drinking. The night keeps getting better and better. You forget more and more and you realize you like drinking a lot. Eventually, you forget why you are there but you just continue drinking. You have never been this fucked up before. You like it. The bar closes. You pester some of your new found drinking buddies to drink some more. They decline. You drive home. This time you have trouble staying in your lane. A cop pulls you over. You fail the sobriety test and you are arrested and taken to the drunk tank. You lay down on the bench. [[Pass Out|Suicide Note 3]] ] (if: $Vice is "drugs")[ Party Time!!! You ask yourself when you get downtown. “What kinda night do I want to have?” You are over ecstasy and coke you did that last week. You want a new experience. Everyone in your circle tells you heroin makes you feel great. You have taken oxy before and you liked that feeling SO... You decide to try some heroin. When you snort the heroin it is the best feeling you have ever had. You forget everything. You like to forget. [[Pass Out|Suicide Note 3]] ] (if: $Vice is "sex")[ OK! A night out on the town and you need to get LAID. A nice new rebound girl will do you good. You have had sex with most of the women that usually go to the last club you were at so you need something new. No Girlfriend No Problem. You decide to go to the Red Room. You like the vibe it is very… Well, Red. After you get a feel for the place and get all of the exits mapped in your brain you start drinking. You drink enough to loosen the tongue but not enough to be sloppy. You approach a girl, she is quite attractive. You flirt with her and she flirts back. Everything is going smoothly. You get to a point where you ask her if she wants to come over to your place. She replies in a seductive tone “If you pay me $300 I will” You look at her in surprise. You have never paid for sex before. You have never needed to. Women have always like you. But this is a sure thing and tonight you NEED to get laid. You agree. You take out $300 from the ATM while you wait for the taxi. You have the best sex you've ever had. She showed you things that you have never seen. You forget. After the sex. You liked it. You liked it a lot. She told you to look up on a website for escorts. She promptly leaves. [[Sleep|Suicide Note 3]] ]

(if: $Vice is "drinking")[ After your first DUI you have been arrested 3 other times. Once for driving drunk again the other two times for public intoxication. You drink every day now. The stress is high because of the DUIs you owe a lot of money. So you can’t afford alcohol well at least not the good stuff. Some night you don't remember you drank an entire bottle of nightquil. Tonight you are halfway into a bottle and a half of some vodka in a plastic bottle. You don't care what brand it is. You decided to stay home. Here at home you are safe. Well until the eviction notice comes. Everybody in your life from that bitch ex girlfriend of yours to your ex-best friend tells you that you have a problem. What it really is is that they don't care about you. If they did they wouldn't have thrown you out. You need more to forget. But you do forget…. Eventually. [[Pass Out|Level 1]] ] (if: $Vice is "drugs")[ After your first overdose the doctor told you that you should stop doing drugs. He also told you that the infection in your arm is so bad from track marks that you need IV antibiotics. You really dont give a shit what the doctors says. What does he know about the pain. What does he know about the loses. What does he know about what life REALLY is. So you get wheeled out of the hospital on a wheelchair. No one is there to pick you up. You take a taxi to your dealer's house. You ask him for another few ounces in exchange for the wheelchair. He accepts. You stumble home waiting to unwarp your joy. You find your needle and spoon. You take a hit. You take a hit but you need more to forget…. [[Pass Out|Level 1]] ] (if: $Vice is "sex")[ A doctor tells you that there is a drug that lowers the risk of getting HIV from a sexual partner. You have been in this seat getting checked for STIs every month for four months. You decline the HIV meds. In the past few months you have contracted Chlamydia and Gonorrhea. You are not sure from who. At first you would see one escort every few weeks. Now you seem them every few days. Today you tell yourself you will not do it but you always seem to break that promise. You go up to the website and you look at the escorts in the area. You find someone new to the area. She has good reviews and you have a feeling she isnt law enforcement. You text her. She prompltly responeds. You set up a date. On the way there you take out the only credit card that is not maxed out. You take a cash advance for $150. You're Not even attracted to her. You just know she has the parts so you go anyway. About 30 minutes later she is on top of you. You dont rememeber her name. You know you shouldn't be doing this but I makes you forget. You NEED it to forget. You drive home in shame. You try to remember her name. You get home and dont even shower. [[Sleep|Level 1]] ]

You wake up. You are bored, depressed and alone. The nights out are not as fun as they used to be. Every night it seems like you go and "have fun". You burn through paycheck after paycheck. By this time BookFace is all bad shit. You see that the world is going to shit. You stopped watching the new when you say that Mosul was taken over by terrorists. You wonder why did PFC Smith die if we just gave it to the terrorist anyway. Then SGT White..... While lazily scrolling through. Commits posted on another friends wall. I will miss you Missing you buddy I wish you were here right now. You're always with me, its been 3 years now but I will never forget you. I love you always. You look at whos wall it is. It's SPC Black.. You say to yourself "WTF when did he die?" "Three years ago??" You message one of your old NCOs. "You ask when did SPC Black Die? Did he die downrange? How did I not hear about this?" She replies "You were already out" "He died by hanging himself in the barracks. After we got back from Afghanistan." "O shit" You reply You talk to her a little while longer. Too much death to much pain. [[Etch the Name|Etch the Name 3]]

Damn it. Perhaps you should refocus. You take one more chance and peer around you, hunting for her...what was the row number? Why didn’t you check the signs? Or ask someone? You wonder if you should get up and try to find her. For the second time tonight, you feel your hypocritical mind ask in a scathing tone, ‘Why were you just doing that just now?’ There’s no answer you can give. Safety? Security? You don’t handle that, and there’s nothing you can do about it even if that were an issue. As if sensing your wandering thoughts, the rasping hisses press up against you again, and this time the crowd with them. Suddenly it’s like you’re frozen. Not a single person is sitting, and you become extremely conscious of how out of place you look. It’s...too much. The hissing rasps crescendo closer to a slithering, biting concert of the damned that leaves your ears ringing and pinpricks of jittery energy stabbing through your extremities. Before the press of people was overwhelming like a tide. Now it formed an unbreakable wall around you, muffling and sealing you in a faux prison of your own making. The heat is stifling. You have to fight to keep your twitching hands still, and the person next to you rolls their eyes before turning away. You made a promise...to stay… So why are you here? Not there with her? A shrieking voice tears itself out of the mangle of paradoxically rasping and screeching whispers. What are you doing?! The wall of people feel like they’re closing in. Or maybe it’s the other way around, as you throw your weight around and try to push back against the encroaching figures. Your eyes feverishly roll around in your head, and you look back at the exit. The whispers consolidate into one titanic voice, and scream, Do something or LEAVE! You need to find her, and then everything will be alright- -Or LEAVE! The heat is suffocating. Before you can do anything you stand up ramrod straight and bolt for the exit, slamming it behind you as you run. [[Surrender to Pain|Suicide Note]]

(set: $name to (prompt: "Type In Doc:", "")) You take off the remembrance bracelet that you always wear. This bracelet is for the fallen. You etch in $name. You put it back on. [[Surrender To Pain|Night On The Town]]

(set: $name to (prompt: "Type In SGT White:", "")) You take off the remembrance bracelet that you always wear. This bracelet is for the fallen. You etch in $name. You put it back on. [[Surrender To Pain|Night On The Town 2]]

(set: $name to (prompt: "Type In SPC Black:", "")) You take off the remembrance bracelet that you always wear. This bracelet is for the fallen. You etch in $name. You put it back on. [[Surrender to Pain|Night On The Town 3]]

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