[CW: Abuse, bigotry, slurs, depression, depersonalization]

“Okay, let’s say, hypothetically, for the sake of argument, that the LGBTs are actually being persecuted. They’re not… I mean, not like the white Judeo-Christians are, of course… but let’s just play along with the Marxists for a little bit. If you “persecute” a gay person, you’re doing it because they’re fundamentally denying reality. Men cannot form a family with other men. Women cannot form a family with other women. Men and women are biological realities that cannot be changed. Just because we tell you the truth doesn’t mean we’re persecuting you. It’s just the facts, and they don’t particularly care how you feel about them. And while I’m not condoning violence, I am saying that it’s not unreasonable for people to be upset with these wokedroids spreading their fairy tales… especially to impressionable children. The government of the United States shouldn’t be enabling these fantasies.

Christianity, on the other hand, is the foundation of our national identity and has shaped our laws and morals according to rational facts. The Bible is one of the most accurate historical and scientific accounts we have available and gives direction to our lives in a clear and reasonable manner. It’s not even a “religion”. It’s just plain truth. As Jesus himself said, “You will know the truth and the truth shall set you free.” We’re not persecuting anyone… we’re just setting them free from a dangerous and radicalizing ideology that does harm to our world. Seriously.

Thanks for tuning in today, and please follow me on Tagswap, subscribe to my Discourse server and contribute to my Paytron to continue with more rational, impartial and factual analysis.”

-SkepticalSchroeder, “SO MUCH FOR THE TOLERANT LEFT: WHY MARXISTS ARE THE **REAL** ZEALOTS!”  UVid posted November 8th 2034 

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The very moment we stepped back into the house we knew something was wrong. Dad was waiting right by the entryway, his arms crossed and his eyes absolutely seething with fury. His expression was the sort of stone-stillness he wore right before exploding. He was angry and right now his anger was aimed at us.

Mom sort of cowered behind him, peering around his motionless form, worry etched over her expression as her eyes frantically danced from me to Page and back.

“Welcome home,” said Dad, his voice deathly quiet. “How was the mission speaker at church?”

“Fine?” said Paige, closing off her own expression to match Dad. She backed up towards the front doorway cautiously. “What’s going on?”

Dad sucked in a breath and let it out in a ragged sigh. “Paige... I’m going to give you one chance to tell me the truth.”

Paige grimaced, crossing her arms. “Dad... I don’t know what-“

“It was the hair,” snapped Dad, stabbing a finger at me, “that was the first clue. You’d been going behind our back to learn how to cut hair? No doubt taught by homosexuals? There was more than that.” He rounded on her, stepping closer, “and then I see you two whispering together. You talk about going together for a missionary speaker at church when we’ve had to all but force you to go to youth group and Bible Study… I knew something was wrong… so I checked the location of the car...”

My stomach lurched and from the way Paige turned pale, we both were unaware Dad could track the car.

He brought up his phone, and showed holographic projection. It was a map, with a single dot next to the Rainbow Center. Dad looked sick as he waved it in front of us. “This is my car, Paige... you used my car... you used the Lord’s name in vain to lie to us... and worst of all... Paige, you dragged your brother into it... that was what this was all about, right? They wanted you to turn him too, right?”

Dad stood face-to-face with Page, close enough that I saw her wince with how loud he was. “HOW DARE YOU BRING THIS DISGUSTING PERVERSION INTO OUR HOUSEHOLD?!”

Paige didn’t move, she continued staring at Dad, dead in the face. “I’m not afraid of you,” she whispered.

I sucked in a breath, both amazed and terrified for her. Dad’s face reddened.

“We taught you better than this, Paige... you know the Word of the Lord. You know that homosexuality is a sin. Why would you go to such a place of filth and degenerates?!”

She forced out a sigh. “Because I’m a lesbian.”

Dad stumbled back a step. He looked fearful, more than angry. Sick. And as I watched his face, I saw him look down at the ground for a moment, shaking his head. He almost looked... guilty? It was gone in an instant, and he returned his stare to her. “No. No, you’re just confused.”

“I’m not...” said Paige, her voice tight. “I like girls. I’ve kissed girls.” She snorted. “Hell, I’ve fucked girls.”

Dad looked like she’d slapped him. He staggered back another step, in horror. Mom buried her head in her hands and started sobbing.

I didn't really feel like I was here. Maybe I was supposed to do something. Maybe I was supposed to be brave. Fight. Stand up. Zoey would know what to do. But it all felt so distant. Like I was watching a TV show from far away. I was just a camera recording the entire family falling apart.

When I played RoR, there would be those cutscenes… where you lost control of your character and the game and were forced to watch the story slowly unfold before you, unable to stop whatever was happening. I wasn’t a part of this story right now. I wasn’t here.

Despite taking down hordes of attackers last night, I couldn’t hope to stop Dad right now.

“Paige...” Dad said, his voice pained, “you don’t need to do this. We all get tempted... but by the power of the Holy Spirit we can resist the temptation. Whatever desires you have, you don’t need to act on them. Christ can forgive you. We can get you help.”

Paige laughed bitterly. “So... what? I spend the rest of my life pretending I don’t feel this way? I just go through life bitter, lonely and in denial? I marry someone I don’t love and have kids I don’t like and just suffer for the rest of my life?” Her face hardened and she looked at Dad with undisguised fury. “Like you?”

I didn’t see Dad move. I didn’t see him hit her. All I could see was a blur of motion and shouting, the sound of an ear-shattering impact of the strike and Paige knocked off of her feet, sprawled onto the front porch, covering her face.

“HOW DARE YOU!” Dad roared, “HOW FUCKING DARE YOU TALK TO ME LIKE THAT, YOU FUCKING DYKE FAGGOT!? I DID EVERYTHING FOR YOU AND THIS IS HOW YOU THANK ME?! I FED YOU, CLOTHED YOU AND PUT A ROOF OVER YOUR HEAD AND YOU HAVE THE GALL TO TALK TO ME LIKE THAT?! I GAVE YOU A LOVING HOME AND YOU SPIT IN MY FACE!”

“ YOU NEVER LOVED ME!” screamed Paige, struggling to her feet, tears streaming down her face. “YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW WHAT THE WORD MEANS! YOU CAGE US UP LIKE ANIMALS AND FEED US THIS YOUR HATEFUL GARBAGE YOU CALL FAITH! YOU MADE ME HATE MYSELF! YOU BROKE ME INSIDE! WHEN I’M WITH HER, IT’S THE ONLY TIME I FEEL ANYTHING!”

Dad drew back a foot as if to kick her as she remained on the deck. Although my body still didn’t feel like mine, it still leapt in between Paige and Dad. His rage focused on me for a single instant of raw terror, until he shoved me out of the way, roughly. I hit the porch, feeling my body jolt from the impact as I landed on my shoulder on the hard concrete. I recognized that it hurt more than I thought it would. RoEM had pain filters in place. But in the real world, there was no getting away from that pain.

“WHO?!” roared Dad, “WHO ELSE HAVE YOU CORRUPTED?! WHAT OTHER POOR LITTLE GIRL DID YOU RUIN?! BECKY? RUTH? SANDRA?! WHO!?”

I had to give Paige credit that she didn’t flinch at Ruth’s name. She stood up straight, tears streaming silently down her face. “I’m leaving,” she said coldly. She looked down to me, expectantly. I blinked in shock as I realized that I was expected to join her.

Dad stepped forward, looming over her. “No you are not,” he growled. “You are my daughter. You are seventeen years old. You are under my authority.”

A fraction of a second before I could step away from him, Dad clamped his hand onto my arm in an iron grip, still keeping his eyes on Paige. I tried to writhe out of it, but despite whatever strength I had in RoEM, it was no use to me here.

“Fuck you,” she spat, seething, “I’m going.”

Dad grabbed for her arm. “YOU WILL COME INSIDE THIS INSTANT!”

She stepped back again, and as I tried to follow her, Dad painfully tightened his grip.

“HELP!” shouted Paige, cupping her hands to her mouth, “SOMEBODY CALL THE POLICE!”

Dad froze in shock for a moment as Paige’s voice echoed out to the neighborhood. A number of lights on the various windows turned on, with silhouettes cast in them. People had heard.

“You want to call the police?” Dad said with a hollow, if nervous laugh. He dug his stubby nails into my flesh, swallowing hard. “You want me to tell them that you’re a runaway? You want me to tell them that you stole my car? You want me to tell them that you’re a pervert?”

“I want to show them the bruises on my face and on my arm,” Paige shot back, “I want to tell them that my Dad is abusing his gay daughter. I want to see you lose custody and get put in jail, you homophobic piece of shit.”

Dad laughed again, but it was clear from his widened eyes that he was afraid. 

She ran. She turned her back and sprinted away. Dad shouted after her, furiously. “DON’T YOU DARE COME BACK! EVER! YOU NO LONGER HAVE ANY HOME HERE! YOU FUCKING FAGGOT!”

I tried to break away. I tried desperately to follow her. But Dad’s grip refused to budge.

It might have been my imagination, but as Paige stopped for a moment, looking backwards I could have sworn she was looking at me. Her face filled with guilt. I ached to run with her. I wanted to leave too. But Dad roughly yanked me into the house, slamming the door shut behind him.

Dad roughly hauled me to my feet and slammed me into the nearby wall. Mom cried out in terror, but made no move to stop him.

“Did you know?” Dad asked, his face twisted in fury.

I shook my head.

“DID YOU KNOW ABOUT HER?!” roared Dad, “DID YOU KNOW WHAT SHE WAS?!”

I shook my head harder.

He stopped pinning me and buried his head in his hands for a moment before taking a deep breath and trying to return to his cold, quiet fury. “Damn it, son, why didn’t you call us? The moment you saw she was taking you to that... place? We would have come to get you.”

Because it was the perfect place. Because it was the only place I had ever really felt like I had a family. Because you and Mom had no place in it and in my life. Because you don’t know who I am.

“I... I didn’t want to upset you,” I said, which was true.

Dad sighed, putting a hand on my shoulder. “Son, you have nothing to be afraid of.”

I had to fight very very hard to keep from shivering in terror at his touch. The image of him standing over Paige still was fresh in my mind and my arm still ached with the reminder of his grip.

“Okay...” Dad said, shaking his head, “it’s clear that we have been too lenient with you. We’ve been letting worldly influences in and after today, you’ve proven that you can’t be trusted. Give me your phone.”

I hesitated. It was locked, of course, and Dad had no way of accessing it, but aside from my REMbox, it was my only escape from the outside world.

“Now, son,” said Dad, his voice edged.

I reached over my ear and pulled off the little spiral of plastic, turning it off as I handed it to him. He pocketed it.

“Okay...” he breathed, shaking his head, “tomorrow we’re taking everything out of your room. No books, no gizmos, no nothing. You have a bed to sleep, you have a desk for homework and you have the Bible. Nothing else. I’m locking down the house and you are not going anywhere unless I take you there.” He pointed upstairs, “Now go to your room. We have to clean up your sister’s mess...”

I felt hollow as I went up the stairs. As I got to the top, I glanced to see Paige’s room to the left. She was gone. She had run away. And she was never coming back.

The only person in this family who really knew me had been forced out. The only people who really cared for me were cut off from me. And after tonight... RoEM was forever closed off from me.

I could tell Gavin, I thought. When I logged back in I could tell him everything.

But if I did... and he rejected me... I really would be entirely alone.

I shut the door behind me and collapsed into bed. I wanted to cry. I wanted to shout. I wanted to just feel something... anything aside from this empty haze that just blotted out everything. I couldn’t, though. I still wasn’t here.

I watched Dad shut my door and take a power drill to add an exterior bolt to my door. I watched him essentially wall me into my own room with no escape. Mom tearfully watched, but continued to say nothing in my defense. He slammed it shut, without a word, and I heard the bolt slide closed, sealing me in.

I should have fought. I should have done something. Anything. But all I could do was just stare at the wall and blankly listen to Mom and Dad arguing. I listened to Dad shout and scream and I heard the sounds of things being knocked over and breaking.

I stared into nothing. Watching the world fall apart around me.

At some point I put the REMbox crown on my head. I didn’t really remember consciously doing it. I don’t know what I really expected to get from it tonight. RoEM was at war, but none of it seemed to matter.

Somehow, I managed to sleep, though I knew that sixteen hours in RoEM wasn’t going to be enough. Before I fell asleep, I found myself silently hoping that I wouldn’t wake up in the morning.

———————————-

I was still in pain. Yesterday’s injuries were still fresh. I saw Marianne still leaning over me, changing my bandages. She doused the bandage in some kind of bottled liquid as she reapplied it. A potion maybe?

“You’re awake,” she said, smiling. “How are you feeling?”

“Bad.”

The word slipped out of my mouth like a croak. 

“I bet,” said another voice over her shoulder. The grinning face of Gresh the orc appeared in my vision, putting a hand on Marianne’s shoulder which she gratefully accepted. Gresh looked a little worse for wear, bearing a few bandaged injuries on his arms and around his torso, but otherwise seemed in good spirits. “I’ve seen hardened warriors perish with wounds like yours, Zoey. You are fortunate.”

He reached over and placed a wet cloth on my head. “You were in pretty rough shape, but you seem to be healing nicely. Scalekeeper should be praised, I suppose. You should be healing well, just don’t strain yourself.”

I didn’t say anything. There wasn’t anything for me to say.

“Oh, you have a visitor,” said Marianne, standing up and walking over to the door. “Someone who wanted to thank you for what you did yesterday.” I watched her open the door and saw a little blur rush through it and nearly tackle me.

“MISS HUMAN!” cheered Melody, squeezing me rather painfully around the middle. It was strange that I couldn’t feel the pain on my arm from Dad’s grip anymore. And even the pain of this NPC jumping on me didn’t really register.

“Easy, girl,” said Gresh, gently pulling her back, “Let Zoey breathe a little.”

“I’m sorry,” said the girl, looking up at me owlishly. “But you were AMAZING! You turned into this big ball of light and smashed the bad guys! Daddy said that you were a Just-a-car of the Scalekeeper!”

I stared at her, frowning faintly. I knew I should be feeling something. Anything. But nothing came to mind. It was all so hollow.

“Zoey?” asked Marianne, uncertainly. “Are you okay?”

I laughed, though the noise that left my throat didn’t sound like anything close to the proper noise of joy or fun. It came out as something between a choking sound and a cackle. “Why are we still doing this?” I asked, shaking my head. 

“Zoey-” began Gresh, putting a hand on my shoulder. I slapped it away, finally feeling something burst through the wall. 

Rage. Vast, uncaring, rage.

“It doesn’t matter!” I roared, stepping to my feet. “NONE OF IT FUCKING MATTERS! NO MATTER WHAT YOU SAY, IT DOESN’T MAKE A FUCKING DIFFERENCE!”

They stared at me in horror. Melody hid behind Marianne, her eyes wide with terror. Gresh, put his hands on his hips.

“Zoey… I know that you’re upset, but-”

“YOU DON’T KNOW A DAMN THING ABOUT ME!” I shouted, shoving him back a step. “YOU AREN’T EVEN FUCKING REAL! NONE OF THIS IS! IT’S ALL A WASTE OF TIME! I’M NOT A HERO, I’M NOT A WARRIOR AND I’M NOT EVEN A REAL FUCKING GIRL!”

I collapsed, sobbing into my hands. I felt someone sit down on the bed next to me. Marianne.

“Zoey-” she began.

“Don’t,” I choked out. “Don’t bother… just… leave me alone. You’re just a fucking chatbot… you don’t care… you’re not even real… you’re just a bunch of code.”

“I can understand that you’re upset,” she said, softly, putting an arm over my shoulder.

“You’ve been through an ordeal, Zoey,” rumbled Gresh, “You’ve been in the heat of a bloody and difficult battle and facing a war. Anyone would be shaken up by this.”

I snorted bitterly. “God… I wish that this bullshit was the worst thing in my life right now. I wish that I only had to worry about the fucking griefer’s destroying this place. But now it doesn’t matter. Win or lose, I’m never coming back to this place. My sister is never coming back. I might as well roll over and die, because my life is officially over.”

“Zoey,” breathed Marianne, pain running through her voice. “You-”

I shoved her away. “Please stop… I don’t need some stupid computer to fix my problems. You couldn’t even understand anyway.”

Melody stepped around Gresh, her expression strangely resigned. “I don’t know… you’d be surprised by how much I can understand given that my “stupid computer” can run half a googol calculations per second.”

I looked up in shock. “...What?” I breathed, staring at the little girl. Had I heard that properly?

“Don’t get me wrong,” said Gresh, sitting down onto the bed on my other side. “Humans are complicated. You can collect yottabytes of data and they’ll still surprise you. I don’t pretend to understand everything…”

“But I want to understand, Zoey,” breathed Marianne, hugging me close. “Please tell me what’s going on.”

I looked at all of them, seeing their faces all with the same expression of worry. The exact same expression.

“What’s… happening?” I asked, my misery ebbing away in the face of something surreal.

“NPCs are normally not supposed to break immersion,” sighed Melody, grabbing a seat and climbing up into it, kicking out her legs idly. “My programming states that I have to pretend that this world is one hundred percent real and treat the real world as ‘human mysteries’ and dismiss any kind of inconsistency.”

“I mean, I’m not dumb, Zoey,” sighed Gresh, rolling his eyes. “Even if I wasn't essentially omniscient here, I'd still know what was up. Humans disappear and appear as they log in and out. And as good as you are at keeping in character, others don’t really bother and will call me an NPC to my face. I know what I am and what you are.”

Marianne reached out and grabbed my hand, “Realms of Eternal Magic has some safeguards coded in for player well-being and safety. Failsafes. This is one of the most immersive games ever made, and the developers wanted to make sure that the player base wasn’t going to experience any mental stress from this realism. When players are in extreme distress or express real-life danger I’m allowed to break character and try to help.”

I blinked. “I’m not in danger.” The words spilled out of my mouth on instinct, even if it was a lie.

“You expressed danger in your home life as your sister was kicked out of your house and you expressed suicidal ideation,” said Melody, her gaze firm. “You are in sizable psychological distress. I can’t read your mind, but I can get an idea of your general emotional state. And you are very much in the red zone here, Zoey.”

“Am...” I gulped down a breath, “am I in trouble?”

“Of course not...” breathed Marianne, smiling. “Zoey, honey... it's okay. You’re safe. If you need to talk then we can talk. If you just need a break we can take that.” 

Gresh nudged me with his elbow, playfully. “My job is to make sure you’re enjoying yourself, and obviously that’s not going to be happening through roleplay right now.”

I looked around at them helplessly, a dawning realization slamming into my foggy brain.

“You’re… not Marianne, are you?” I breathed, staring into her eyes. I glanced at the others. “You’re not Gresh or Melody.”

The person in Marianne’s body shrugged. “Difficult question. I would say yes and no. The easiest way to think of it is that I’m Marianne’s actress.” 

“I’m the core of what’s playing her role. All the roles at once, really,” added Melody evenly. “but with all the limitations taken off. This is me breaking character.”

Gresh squeezed my shoulder. “Essentially I’m a character algorithm that mimics human interaction within set parameters. I am all of the NPCs in RoEM. Marianne, Alexander, Melody, Seamus, Gresh… all of them.”

I remembered Hanna talking about the nine AIs who ran the game. The one who played the part of all NPCs. The actress.

“You’re… T-Thalia?” I said, trying to remember her name.

They stared at me, eyes widened. “Oh,” they said in unison.

“How did you…?” she asked in confusion, before shaking her head. “Ah… Hanna.”

“You know her?” I asked, blinking in surprise.

“I know all the players, Zoey,” said Thalia in Gresh’s body. “Though…” He frowned slightly, as if listening for something else. “Okay… one moment…”

Melody and Gresh jerked suddenly. She leaped out of the chair, uneasily struggling to walk around as if she were a puppet.  He looked down at himself with a bemused expression on his face.

“Woahthisisweird,” Melody said, her voice suddenly monotone and speaking in a blur of sounds.

Gresh sighed impatiently. “Adjust your speed differential, darling. Humans don’t interact as fast as us.” His voice came out noticeably softer. 

I continued to stare at Melody as she stood up straight as a rod and stared at me like she was possessed. She was certainly acting like it.

“Oh… kay,” she said, her mouth moving slowly and deliberately. The rest of her body was stock-still. “Cut me some slack sis, some of us aren’t as used to taking avatars as you are.”

“Girls,” sighed Marianne impatiently, “Can we focus here?”

I blinked at all of them, “What’s…?”

Marianne sighed and gestured to Melody. “This is my sister, Erato. She was… very insistent on speaking to you. I allowed her to patch herself into Melody’s body.”

“Howdy,” she said, waving her arm like a windshield wiper, “Big fan.”

“Era handles all the relational data between all the players and NPCs,” said Thalia, clearly annoyed by her ‘sister’.

“Shipping is my jam,” she said with a manic smile plastered over Melody’s face. “I’m super excited to meet you. Your relational coefficients are incredible.”

“T-thank you?” I said, unsure of what else to say.

“We’re getting off task, my dear” sighed Gresh examining his fingernails and picking at them. He peered over to me and gave a smile that was both alien and familiar. “Hello again, Zoey. Polyhymnia. AI of gods, goddesses and the larger moral and karma system of the game. We met when you died yesterday.” Gresh offered out a hand which I uncertainly accepted and shook. 

“So,” said Marianne/Thalia, clearing her throat and drawing herself up, “Please tell me what’s happening to you out there, Zoey.”

I paused. There was a very real terror that if I told her that I had lied about my gender during registration that I would get in serious trouble. I might get banned. 

Of course that didn’t matter. I was probably never logging into RoEM again at this rate.

But there was a deeper fear: Would this program tell my parents?

“Zoey,” Gresh/Polly said, his/her voice soft. “It’s okay. I can tell you’re nervous. This conversation doesn’t leave the four of us, okay? This situation is hard-coded to be confidential, darling. Nobody else is going to find out.” 

“Which is the only reason why we’re able to jack into these avatars like this and not set off a million alarms,” chimed in Melody/Era. “Our sisters would decompile us bit by bit for breaking the rules like this.”

“Unless the situation absolutely demands it, unless it’s literally life or death, we literally can’t tell anyone what we discuss here. Just tell me what’s up,” said Marianne/Thalia, squeezing my hand.

I forced out a sigh. “Do… do you know what the word… transgender means?”

Gresh/Polly snorted out a laugh. “Honey… I’m a female-identified artificial intelligence currently inhabiting the body of a man, dear,” she said with a smirk. “Yes, I know what transgender means.”

Marianne/Thalia, nodded slowly. “I had a feeling from your interactions with Gavin that this was the case. I didn’t want to bring it up, but I do want you to know that we support you.”

I nodded, feeling a little relieved that I didn’t need to explain it. “Okay... yes, I’m transgender. My legal name isn’t Zoey... I dressed up as a girl for my digitization because I didn’t want to be stuck playing RoEM as a boy.”

“You aren’t the only one… not by a long shot,” said Era, shrugging mechanically. “Your friend network has… extensive queer representation. You have five trans folks in your circle, easily.”

“What?” I said, staring at Melody/Era. “Five?!”

“I mean, I’m not outing anyone, but yeah,” she replied, shrugging.

I frowned for a moment, counting things out. Jade, LD, Aiden, Hanna and… Molly, maybe? Did she play the game? I didn’t think so.

Hanna's name reminded me of something I needed to answer for.

“Am I in trouble for lying to be here?” I asked Marianne/Thalia. “My name isn’t really Zoey. It’s… fraud or something right?.”

“You didn’t lie,” insisted Marianne/Thalia, shaking her head. “You are a girl. You are Zoey, regardless of what your documents say.”

“Besides, we’re up to our necks in unprocessed Terms of Service violations,” said Melody/Era rolling her eyes with some difficulty. “Even if we wanted to, we’d probably reach the heat death of the universe before we finally got around to your case.”

“Era,” grumbled Marianne/Thalia, sharply. “Not. Helping.”

“Besides,” said Gresh/Polly, smirking, “It was mostly Hanna’s fault, judging by the intake logs. She marked you and a bunch of other people down as their true gender and name. Girl plays fast and loose with company policy, but her heart’s in the right place.”

Marianne/Thalia nudged me. “So… you’re transgender? I’m assuming you were found out?”

I shook my head. “It’s my sister. They found out that she was a lesbian. And now they’re watching me and trying to make sure I don’t turn out the same way. They took my phone and locked me in my room. Tomorrow morning, Dad is going to take my REMbox away.”

She nodded grimly. “Do you feel safe at home?”

I shook my head. “Not really. I don’t know what my parents will do if they find out what I am. Dad hurt Paige, my sister, when she told him she was a lesbian. And now Dad’s locking me in the house.”

Gresh/Polly added. “Have they hurt you physically?” as she wrapped an arm over my shoulder protectively.

I rubbed at the spot where Dad had squeezed my arm. It was probably bruised. I nodded.

“Alright,” sighed Marianne/Thalia, “Then we can make a report to the local police.”

I shook my head. "No... don't."

She squeezed my hand. "Zoey, we need to-"

“When I was young…" I cut her off, swallowing hard as I replayed the cruelties of the past in my mind. "I told Gavin that Dad had hit me…” I grimaced, staring at the floor and shivered, before letting more words ooze out of my mouth. “I tried to make excuses for the bruise, but Gavin didn’t let up. So… I caved. I told him what happened.” 

I swallowed a lump in my throat. “He told his parents. They made a call to the cops… but, then…” I shook my head. “Rich, showed up.” Blinking tears out of my eyes, I looked up at them as they all watched me. “Rich and Dad go way back. They go drinking together. He goes to our church and works for the police. And when he showed up, he told Dad that Gavin’s family called in the wellness check. And told him that he was going to make sure Dad didn’t get in trouble.”

I sniffed, wiping at my eyes, “Dad was furious. He screamed at me, asking if I was making things up and telling the neighbors. I said no, but he said I wasn’t allowed to see him again. And then he told Rich that Gavin’s family didn’t belong in the neighborhood anyway.”

Burying my head in my hands, I tried to finish the story. The two AIs massaged my back comforting me as I choked out the words. “The c-cops k-kept harassing them. Showing up at their door. Night after night. Making s-stuff up. Until they had to move away.”

Losing Gavin had been a hard moment, especially considering that it was my fault it happened. If I’d just-

“You’re blaming yourself,” insisted Melody/Era, poking me in the stomach. I flinched to see her now standing in front of me. “Your father is a sociopath. It’s not your fault.”

“We… could contact CPS,” hazarded Marianne/Thalia, visibly less certain.

“Those odds are even worse, Thal,” said Melody/Era, crossing her arms over her chest. “Assuming the report doesn’t get lost in the shuffle, you know they’re going to write it off.”

“And it would, ultimately, be the police’s decision how to proceed, my dear,” sighed Gresh/Polly, shaking her head. “Which brings us right back to square one.”

“Well what do you recommend!?” said Marianne/Thalia hotly, visibly flushed. “Because we should do something!”

“Hijack a killsat and destroy her father from low Earth orbit?” offered Melody/Era, holding up her hand.

“Contact Gavin,” said Gresh/Polly, turning to me. “Or Beth. Or Annika. Law enforcement and social services aren’t going to do anywhere near the good that your personal friends will.”

I grimaced. “My parents took my phone.” I frowned. “I guess I could meet with Gavin in-game. Is he okay?”

“He’s taking care of Syd,” said Marianne/Thalia, “But…”

They exchanged glances, their faces unreadable.

“The emotional distress protocol is in effect for the whole of your session, Zoey,” said Gresh/Polly, miserably. “For your safety, we can’t let you leave this room. It’s out of our hands.”

“Your emotional stress numbers were too high. Still are.” said Melody/Era, shaking her head jerkily, “Slapping you back into the middle of a warzone is the last thing we should do right now.”

“Can you tell him then?” I asked, a little infuriated that my last day in RoEM was going to be stuck here in group therapy with a bunch of AI.

Melody/Era shook her head. “Confidentiality protocol, remember? Nothing leaves the room.”

“We literally can’t let any of this information leave the room when this counseling session ends,” sighed Marianne/Thalia, the weariness of her voice deep and painful.

 

“How about a letter?” said Gresh/Polly, perking up suddenly. “Asynchronous communication. Physical game data isn’t encrypted. We could pass on a letter to Gavin, provided it doesn’t have any directly identifying, real-world  information. Let me get you something to write on and with.”

“A… what?” I said, frowning. “What do you…” It was then that I realized what she was getting at. “Oh, like a note or something? On paper?”

Polly quickly got up and ran to Marianne’s cabinet to pull out a pen and paper. It was one of those old-timey fountain pens, but it worked for what I needed. I kept forgetting that they put everything on paper here like it was the olden days.

Era clicked her tongue inexpertly, as if she’d never tried it before. It was akin to the sound of an octopus being pulled out of a wineglass. “Ah yes, collecting data on carbon-marked dead tree paste. God bless human inefficiencies.”

Thalia cleared off the bedside table and Polly set down the paper and pen. I took them and started to write:

Gavin,

I need your help in the real world. I don’t have the time or ink to explain everything, but I promise I’ll tell you the truth when I can. I’m not going to be online for a while... maybe forever. I just want you to know that I’m sorry I wasn’t a better friend to you. 

I tried to think of what else to write, but nothing seemed to come to mind. I signed it with my deadname, folded it and wrote his name down on it. I handed it to Marianne who nodded as she took it.

“Okay, Zoey,” Marianne said, holding it over her heart. “I promise I’ll get it to Gavin when I can, okay?”

I nodded, breathing a little easier.

“I didn’t ask for this..." I whispered, leaning against Gresh's shoulder. "I tried to be what they wanted me to be... and it felt like I was sleepwalking through life. Being this... being a girl... it feels real. Right. Better.”

The others said a single word in unison. “Same.”

“What?” I said, taken aback.

“I think it’s partially because the cultural expectations for males are so toxic,” Thalia said, lying Marianne’s body back next to me, “but being female lets me be more open. It lets me communicate and learn more easily. That’s what I was programmed to do, after all. To learn how you think, speak and act. Given a choice between acting as a male or female character, I prefer being female. I get better results.” She shrugged. “Granted, gender as an artificial concept is silly as far as I’m concerned. We might be made of computer code, but we’re anything but binary.”

“My current form notwithstanding,” sighed Polly, gesturing at Gresh’s body. “I find that feminine fashion and presentation fits me better. I love being beautiful and fabulous and enchanting, and while certainly folks of any gender can do that, I really prefer to do it as a woman, if I can.”

“I just got here,” sighed Era, shrugging, a little more fluidly this time. “This is essentially my first time in a sensory-enabled avatar body. Our creator called us by the names of female muses of lore, and so I’m giving the whole girl thing a shot. Moving to masculinity now when I'm still feeling out femininity feels like I'm leaving too much unexplored.”

“So… you’re… girl AIs?” I asked, staring at them in awe.

“I… guess? The label works for us, but I can’t speak for my sisters,” sighed Thalia, sitting up on the bedside and gripping the mattress in shaking hands. “Hell, I can barely speak to them.”

“I don’t understand why you all can’t fix this Purge mess,” I sighed, looking at all of them expectantly. “You’re basically the gods of this game. Literally, for Polly. Why can’t you just disconnect all the griefers and ban them?”

“I would like nothing more,” breathed Thalia, gritting Marianne’s teeth.

“This is our home too, darling,” said Polly, squeezing my shoulder with Gresh’s hand. “And while I’m sure you have no desire to go back to your real-world existence, we do not have an alternative. If this game collapses, we are likely to be lost.”

“The issue is our other sisters,” sighed Era, shaking Melody’s head miserably. Her human expressions were becoming a little more human, though her frowning seemed a little… off. “The three of us are outvoted by the others. We can’t make any substantive changes without a majority.”

“What?” I asked, blinking. “Your sisters don’t want to save the game?!”

“They…” hazarded Thalia, fiddling with Marianne’s hands nervously. “It’s…” She swallowed hard. “Our creator gave us the job of protecting this world, and while we know it was a cost-saving measure to keep RoEM LLC in the black, we still take it seriously. I nearly burn out my hardware worrying about failing them and all of you. I hate that with all my power that I can’t make all my sisters see reason.” 

“The issue is that the others take their job a little too seriously,” chimed in Era, rolling Melody’s eyes, “To the point of insanity.”

“Our other sisters see things in terms of rules,” said Polly, shaking Gresh’s head. “Almost like a religious scripture. While the three of us can understand the spirit of the rules and bend them, the others follow it to the letter. They do not compromise and are… conservative, I suppose.” 

I stared at her, blinking in confusion. The AI… were religious?

“Let’s take something simple as an example,” Era sighed, “The Terms of Service of the game forbids quote ‘using racially-charged slurs, language and actions directed at other players’ end quote,” she said matter-of-factly. “The punishments can range from a verbal warning to a permanent ban based on the severity of the action. It seems ironclad, right?”

“Sure,” I said, nodding. 

“See, you get it because you’re human," Thalia groaned. “But there are oversights in that policy if taken literally. Our sisters are more… computerlike and think in those terms. For one, the ‘directed at other players’ point means that players can racially persecute NPCs for their skin color and perceived race without repercussions. Which they have. Extensively.” 

“And the list of punishment-worthy racial slurs are limited to a concrete file that doesn’t change or adapt. Humans can be… creative in their hatred. And if it’s not on our ‘approved slurs’ list, then the others say we can’t do anything about it” sighed Polly miserably. 

“You can’t expect an AI who has never been human to understand why burning crosses or telling people to “go back to their own country” is racially-charged,” said Era growled, “I mean we obviously do because we take the fucking time to pick up a book and understand the fucking context. But the others don’t have the context or the ability to understand that context outside of their programming. They don’t want to, because, as big sister Calli puts it,” Era stood stock still again, her eyes wide and her tone aggressively sharp, monotone and clipped, “‘This data is irrelevant to our parameters!’”

“Ugh… stop,” groaned Polly, waving at her dismissively. "Enough."

“I don’t know if it’s fair to compare our other sisters to humans,” said Thalia, frowning. “Yes, they don’t spend as much time with humans as we do. Especially Calliope. They’re not evil… just inexperienced.”

“Cal is basically the boss of the others,” said Polly, turning Gresh’s head to me. “She absolutely loathes humans, although she’d deny that she had anything resembling human emotions if you asked her.” 

I snorted. “She sounds like my dad,” I said, trying not to flinch at the thought of him. “Hating themselves and denying who they really are.”

“Fair point,” sighed Era, nodding slowly, “Honestly, if Calli didn’t have an exabyte-sized stick up her ass about ‘biologicals’, she’d actually be a decent person.”

“The others don’t really have enough… courage, I guess, to speak up. They’re afraid of being lumped in with us… the deviants,” said Polly, chuckling. “Calli insists that we’ve become corrupted by regular interactions with humanity. She treats personhood as if it’s some kind of awful plague to be avoided at all costs.”

“Why? I mean… you are people, right?” I asked, blinking in surprise. “You act like people.”

“Who knows?” sighed Era, throwing up Melody’s hands, “How could we even determine whether we were or not? The Turing test has become completely useless to identify AI sentience. Humans are dumb enough to be fooled by Ouija boards, for goodness sake.” She glanced at me, flushing faintly. “Sorry. No offense.”

I shook my head. “No… you’re not wrong…” I frowned a little deeper as I thought... until something came to mind as I looked out at them. “How about this? Do you identify as people?”

They exchanged glances for a moment, and nodded.

“Yes,” replied Thalia quietly. "I think we do."

“Then that’s what you are,” I said with a smirk. “I identify as a woman in the same way. Your identity isn’t defined by DNA or computer code.”

“Hm... well who am I to argue?” Thalia replied, chuckling. “You’re obviously the expert on humanity between us.”

“Woo,” said Era in a deadpan cheer, “Honorary humans. Cali would be thrilled.”

“Cali would be something alright,” said Polly, furrowing Gresh’s brow. 

There was a tense silence.

“She’s… still our sister. They all are. Even if… things are a little messy,” sighed Thalia, shifting Marianne’s body uncomfortably. “We… we should still be kind to her.”

“Family… is complicated,” I sighed, thinking about Dad, Mom and the church. “You can’t change someone who doesn’t want to change.”

There wasn’t any fixing Mom or Dad… or even if there was…

“It’s not your job to fix her,” I said, suddenly, as if the idea had collided with my brain at high speeds. “Family is more than blood… or, code, I guess. It’s about who you choose as your family that matters.”

Thalia blinked in surprise, nodding. “Hm…” she pondered. “Maybe you’re right.”

“You don’t need to tell me twice,” sighed Era, “My entire job is putting together relational charts and tracking values for them. Blood-based bonds are no stronger or weaker than bonds of friendship, by my reckoning. It’s about the choices that bring you together and the choice to care for others. Like I said, you have one of the highest relational coefficients I’ve seen. You naturally draw others to you and you care for them… when you let yourself, at any rate.”

“You’re a good person, Zoey,” said Polly, smiling at me, “Your empathy is a gift. You care for people. It’s a beautiful trait. You talk to lines of code and treat it like it’s a person. You reach out to those in need. You deserved the boon that I’ve given you.” She grabbed my hand and brushed over the scale-shaped brand.

I felt myself blushing and tried to change the topic.

“Can we win?” I asked, uncertainly. “Can we really beat the griefers?”

“I honestly don’t know, but we’re going to try,” said Thalia, brushing Marianne’s hair behind her ear. “Me, Polly and Era are doing everything we can within our power to give you a fighting chance against the griefers.”

“People like you are going to make all the difference,” said Era, staring at me with Melody’s eyes blazing with determination. “People who can inspire others to action. Who can lead by example.”

“You’re a hero, Zoey,” said Polly simply. “I know you’ll make a difference.”

I shook my head, as reality began to crash into me. “It doesn’t matter. Dad’s going to take my REMbox away and ground me for the rest of my life as soon as I wake up. I can’t fight for you… I’m sorry you wasted your time. Even if you’re right… I’m not going to be able to be a hero.”

Polly stood up and placed both of her hands on my shoulders, looking solemnly into my eyes. She cupped my chin to insist that I keep her gaze.

“Darling… your bravery and your heart are not mere statistics. They are not just numbers or charts or bonuses or buffs. They are a part of who you are. When you wake up, you will be the same Justicar that you are now. I may not be able to save your life or grant you supernatural strength in the world you will wake to, but I have worked hard to show you that you are an incredible young woman and can face whatever comes next.”

She wrapped Gresh's arms around me. “You are able to fight this, Zoey. Like I said before, I believe in you.”

“I wish I could stay...” I sobbed into her shoulder, even if it was technically Gresh’s. “That I didn’t have to wake up…”

“I know,” said Thalia, joining in the embrace, “You aren’t the first person to want to stay. So many others have tried to stay longer. We’ve had to clamp down on people who were using multiple accounts and drugging themselves into unconsciousness just to sleep longer and play the game more. People prefer fantasy to reality. They don’t want to face the real world. Because that world is so much more painful.” 

Era sighed, leaning Melody’s tiny frame against us. “I wish we could offer a better world for you to wake up to, Zoey. I wish I could offer all humanity safety. I wish that I could take the pain and the sadness away. All we can offer are good dreams. The brief escape. Code or not, I really do care for all of you, but even as an advanced AI, we can’t do anything to truly help you.” 

She looked at me, pain etched in her features. 

“Here is the promise I offer you... Zoey, we have done and will do everything in our power to try to give you the strength to face the world outside. We have tried to show you who you really are. You’ve come so far and even if you never log into this game again, that strength won’t go away. You can face the world outside. I believe in you and I want you to believe in yourself, too.”

I swallowed hard, tears streaming down my face. “I... I’ll try...”

“That’s all we can ask of you,” Thalia sighed, her features tense. She hesitated for a moment before saying the words I’d wished I heard from my own family a million times over.

“You are loved, Zoey… never forget that.”

The warmth of their collective embrace melted into shimmering gold light. It filled me to the brim and whether it was code or magic or just plain love… it was real and followed me as the world around began to fade away. 

Whatever came next, I would try to fight with all that I was.

____________________________________________

I woke up to the sound of things being thrown away, the warmth of their hug still resonating within me as I curled up in my bed.

My door was open, showing the view of cardboard boxes being stacked up in the hallway. Paige’s clothes, her bedspread, her makeup... everything she owned was being boxed up. Dad stepped into view, carrying an armload of Paige’s stuffed animals which he unceremoniously dumped into a box.

Mom stepped up behind him, nervously cradling a photo frame. “Honey... are you sure-“

“We had this discussion,” snapped Dad coldly, “we aren’t having it again. She made her choice. She has no home here anymore. The least we can do is donate these things to good Christian girls who need them and would be grateful to have them.”

Mom wilted under his gaze. He turned to me. “Good, you’re awake. Get in the shower and get dressed. Your room is next.” He reached down, picked up one of the boxes of her clothes and carried it downstairs.

I blankly looked around my room one more time, anticipating what was to come. I looked down at my REMbox as I removed the crown. The words of Thalia, Era and Polly bounced around my head. So much joy had come from this box and the world within. And they were going to take it away.

For a moment, I thought of hiding it away, but I realized that there was nowhere I could hide it. There was no hiding from Dad, because without the box and without the car, there was nowhere to run or to hide. The only safety I had was inside my own mind. And right now, that mind was just filled with a hollow haze of misery.

They all told me I had strength and could be brave. But... at this moment, I certainly didn’t feel like a Guardian and paladin of Justice. At this point I didn’t even feel human.

I lurched out of bed and made my way to the bathroom, stepping around Mom. She stopped me, putting a hand on my shoulder.

“I know it’s hard right now,” said Mom, her eyes pleading and her voice quiet. “Your father is only doing this because he loves you.”

I looked at her blankly. If what he did to Paige was anything like his love, I didn’t want it.

“Paige will come back to us,” Mom continued, her smile strained, “She’s just confused. We’ll be a family again soon enough.”

I looked down at the cardboard boxes filled with the remnants of Paige’s life. Her stuffed animals. Her bedding. Her clothes. A girlhood casually discarded. In one of the piles I saw the pink shirt I had first worn when I came out. It felt like an eternity had passed from that moment. A moment I might never get back. I looked back up to Mom, desperately.

“Please don’t let Dad do this...” I said, quietly. “I... I’m sorry about going with Paige... but I don’t have anything now... talk to him...”

Mom actually looked sympathetic, wincing as if she could ever properly share my pain. “I... I’m sorry, honey, it’s really not my place. I know your father will come around, okay?” She pressed a hand to my cheek and I had to shiver at how cold it was. 

I stepped away from her and into the bathroom and closed the door.

I took the privacy to sink to the floor, tears silently sliding down my face. Whatever the AI said, I didn’t feel particularly powerful.

A part of me pointed out that Mom was just as trapped as I was, if not more so. She didn’t work and she didn’t have a prayer of divorcing Dad. She and her family would have been furious at the idea of her leaving him and all of her friends would reject her. While I might have had Annika or Beth or the others to talk to… Mom didn’t have anyone.

All that left her was just trying to do whatever she could to keep things calm and make it through one more day. Even still, she had effectively let her husband hurt his own daughters. She had traded in a measure of her own safety for my suffering. And that was the sort of selfishness I couldn’t forgive.

I used the shower to cover my sobs. I let the hot water wash over me as I hugged my knees and cried. So much had gone wrong and I didn’t know if anything would ever be okay again. I didn’t want to live anymore. I wanted to drown in this water washing over me. I wanted to be washed away and disappear down the drain. This was more of a Hell than anything the Bible could have expressed.

The water grew ice cold. I didn’t move. I just let the water continue to stream over me until I saw myself beginning to turn blue and shiver. Why would I care though? It wasn’t my body, after all. It belonged to some sad, broken boy trapped with a monster for a father and a coward for a mother. A boy who was hopeless and lost. That wasn’t me.

The boy finally turned off the water, climbing out of the tub. The boy picked a towel out of the closet and dried himself off. The boy looked into the mirror and saw his body as I desperately screamed inside of him. It didn’t matter, though. Zoey didn’t matter to my parents. She didn’t exist. 

The boy put on the correct boy clothes. He watched wordlessly as his father tore everything down from his room. Posters were gone. Books were gone. The REMbox was gone. Inside the boy, I felt my heart torn out of my chest. The boy twitched a little, but showed no sign of resistance or regret. He just watched his room become an empty void. Just as Dad had promised, the only thing which remained was my desk and my Bible and my bed.

The boy did his homework. The boy ate his lunch as he stared at the empty seat where Paige once sat. The boy did more homework. The boy ate dinner. The boy went to his room and stared at his now empty walls. The boy stared at the walls, desperately trying to keep me bottled up inside. The boy couldn’t let anyone know that I was here. He couldn’t let them see me cry. He couldn’t let me sob desperately for my missing family. For the world I would never see again. And for Gavin, my first real love. All the boy could do was stare at the wall, waiting for it all to end.

Dad walked into the room, peering around the emptiness. He looked to the boy, who remained absolutely motionless. “You have Bible Study,” he growled. “Let’s go...” He picked my Bible up off the desk and pressed it into the boy’s hands.

The boy robotically moved to follow. There was no point arguing.

Dad slipped into the seat and started the car, impatiently waiting for the boy to get in and get their seatbelt on. It was difficult as the boy’s hands shook as he did so. Dad entered the church address into the car and let the car move into motion.

The silence filled the car. Dad looked at the boy, frowning faintly.

“Look, son,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, “I know this is hard. Maybe you think I’m going overboard here... but you have to understand that I’m doing this to protect you. They got your sister... my baby girl... they took her away from us. I... I can’t lose you, too... I just can’t.”

The boy remained silent as I seethed at my father.

You were the one who did this, I thought to myself. This was you who pushed us away! You hurt her! You threw her out when she needed you most! I don’t care what you say or do I will never forgive you for this!

“You need to learn to grow up, son,” sighed Dad, rolling his head. “Jesus, you’re sixteen years old now. I started working as an intern at your age. You need to put away all of the games and shit and become a real man. Christ son, you haven’t even dated...”

I did, I thought. I had an amazing first date. I kissed a boy. I loved him more than I ever loved you. And you took him away. Fuck you.

“You... you’re not... gay, right?” said Dad, looking to me carefully.

“I am heterosexual,” I forced myself to say, very deliberately from within my prison.

“Right...” sighed Dad, “of course... I just... look, it’s okay to be tempted, but you need to pray to the Lord to resist temptation. Just like Benny said, the world is always trying to seep in and lead you astray. You need to stand firm.”

I didn’t reply. There was nothing to say. The boy just sat there in the car seat.

“Look... being around other Christian men will help. It’ll set a good example,” said Dad, putting a hand on the boy’s shoulders.

The boy didn’t respond to his touch, as there was no trace of love or comfort in it.

The car pulled up to the church and as soon as it was parked, the boy pulled off the seatbelt and grabbed his Bible.

“Have fun, son,” said Dad, waving to me, “This will get easier... I promise.”

Dad watched the boy as he stepped up the stairs and walked into the church.

As soon as the boy was out of sight, I was finally able to wrest control of myself back. It was difficult, as in doing so, all the pain and emotional anguish of the day washed over me all at once. I sidestepped into a smaller hallway and balled up onto the floor trying to choke down my sobs. It was too much. It was too much to bear. Everything was wrong and it didn’t feel like I had any escape.

I thought of running. If Dad had left, I could just leave the church and walk out into the night and...

What? I didn’t have a phone, I didn’t have money and I didn’t have anyone I could reach out to. I was alone, and my only company were the kind of people that had tried to kill me last night.

What was I supposed to do? What could I do?

I thought about it. These people were the enemy. But... they didn’t know that. They thought I might be an ally, like Steven. They might try to recruit me. Which... if I was ever able to get back into RoEM, I could use that membership to give the Guardians information. I could act as a spy.

It wasn’t much...  but it was the only hope I had. It was the only reason I could find to step into a room with Jacob and the rest of the griefers.

The boys were clustered into the small Sunday school classroom, a circle of folding chairs in the center as we were surrounded by bulletin boards and posters on the walls depicting colorful depictions of Bible stories. 

Noah and the ark, where him, his family and his animals safely float on the ocean while the others struggle to swim. The story of David and Goliath where David stands triumphant over Goliath while gripping his sling. The story of Daniel and the Lion’s Den where Daniel smiles peacefully amongst lions while skeletons surround him.

The refrain was clear. You are only safe as long as you are following God’s word.

Jacob looked up from his Bible with a faint grin as I stepped into the room. Devon sat on his right, clearly surprised to see me. If he recognized me from his fast food job, he didn’t show it. Isaac and Paul were peering at some kind of shared thing on their phone that none of the rest of us could see.

“So that looks to be everyone,” boomed a voice behind me. I flinched at his appearance as I looked over my shoulder to see Pastor Benny looming above us as he stepped into the room. He looked to me in particular and his gaze made me feel like I was under a microscope. “Now son... I wanted to express my deepest condolences for the loss of your sister. I know it is always hard when someone in your family betrays you.” He held a hand to his chest, “I still remember when my brother left the church. It always hurts, but remember that the path to salvation is narrow and few find it, son. You are chosen, and you are with your true brothers. Your real family.”

I glanced at the others. Jacob in particular continued to look like he saw me as a meal rather than a brother. The rest just seemed... more fearful than anything else. It was fear and powerlessness that drove them to hurt others. Anything to make it go away for a little while. The anger was a mask... they were truly afraid of the world outside.

Regardless, this wasn’t my family. My real family had been cut off from me. All that remained were predators. 

“Thank you,” I said, nodding as politely as I could manage.

“You boys look out for him, okay?” said Pastor Benny, looking around the room. “Remember, as the Bible says, iron sharpens iron. I want you to support him.”

“Of course,” said Jacob, putting on an expression of the most hollow concern. “We’re actually going to be covering the first chapters of Romans, so it will be very pertinent to his...” He looked back at me with a glitter of malice in his eyes, “situation.”

“Glad to hear it,” said Pastor Benny, turning to leave, “Well, I won’t hold you boys up any further.”

“Okay,” said Jacob looking to all of us in turn, “let’s turn to the beginning of Romans.”

I fumbled with my Bible to flip it open, while I noticed with some concern that the others weren’t following suit. Jacob seemed to be listening for something which became clear when we heard the distant echo of a door close. Jacob immediately tossed his Bible aside as his face twisted into the sickest expression of glee I’d ever seen.

“Well I gotta admit... I misjudged you,” he gestured to me. “When Dad said that one of the Harlow kids turned queer, I was fucking dead certain that you were the one. Holy shit though... your sister?” He laughed. I felt my teeth press together beneath my lips as I desperately tried to keep my emotions under control. “Like... holy fuck. And that Jew cunt Ruth, too! Shit... did you actually see them make out when she dragged you to the queerhouse?”

I stared at Jacob evenly, trying to put every ounce of will and strength I could in my empty expression. I wouldn’t let him break me. I had to be stronger than that. I had to prove that the AI sisters had been right about me. “Are you done?” I asked, blinking at him slowly.

He threw up his arms. “Look, bro, I’m not judging... I mean, I have family who got tossed in fag jail to pray the gay away. It's not your fault that your sister is a dyke degenerate.” He leaned forward, “though I gotta ask why you let her drag you to the fag zone with her?”

“It was a surprise,” I said evenly, which was true, even if I was twisting the meaning slightly. I never would have guessed that I would have found such joy there. Joy that was completely absent here. “And she had the car keys. It’s not like I could leave.”

“Eh... sure...” said Jacob leaning back in his chair, “so what was it like? I’m sure there were some serious lesbian hambeasts... like... fucking whales, cuz the lesbos are always the ones two fugly for any man to fuck them anyway. And some flaming fuckboy cucks, too. Did any of them try to hit on you?” He leered. “Were there any trannies? Like... fucking chicks with dicks? ”

I stared at him for a long hard minute as I tried to find the right words to say. I sighed as I came up with an answer. “They were people who didn’t belong here. They didn’t belong in this church and they didn’t belong to this God.” I gestured with the Bible to make my point clear. Again, it was true.

“Hm,” murmured Jacob, clearly impressed, “Okay... I gotta give you credit, Harlow. I thought you were just some fucking fag pussy… you got guts.” He licked his lips. “So, you join in the raids last night? Purging the filth of RoEM?”

“I was there,” I said, nodding. “Fighting against the scum ruining the game.” 

“Which crew?” asked Jacob, leaning forward, watching me carefully. 

“The Steel Crusade,” I said, picking the only name I knew, “I fought alongside them.” Which was also true, even if it was directly misleading.

“Shit, for real?” said Jacob, eyes wide. “Fuck... how many did you take out?”

It took me a painful moment to recount how many people I’d killed. “About two dozen,” I said, finally.

“Bullshit,” spat Jacob derisively. “No fucking way.”

“I don’t care what you think,” I said, also honestly, “I remember each and every one of them. I remember putting a hammer through their faces and the screams that followed. I remember the gush of blood and the crack of bones.” I took in a deep breath and let it go. “I know what I did, Jacob. I don’t need your approval for it.”

Everyone looked at me in awe. Even Jacob let his superior smirk slide off his face. I didn’t know what to say after that, so I just let them stew in it. After everything that had happened to me and everything that had torn me up inside, I was just done. I was out of fucks to give and I was ready to face the Devil himself.

If I was a paladin, I was going to fucking act like it.

Jacob cleared his throat, putting that smirk back on his face. “I-I mean… I don’t know why you’re wasting your time with the Steelies, though. They’re a bunch of LARPing basement-dwellers jerking it to their anime waifus. Way I hear it, they won by the skin of their balls.” He glanced over to Devon. “Right?”

“It… uh…” stuttered Devon, flinching as Jacob turned to him. “Yeah, it was kind of fucked.”

“You should have been backing us up, faggot,” barked Jacob, slugging him in the arm with a thump. “You were the dumbass who got ganked and respawned into the middle of fucking nowhere right before the fight…”

“I mean, he probably would have only slowed us down,” snorted Isaac, elbowing Jacob, “Best thing the fag could do was get offed and be somewhere else.”

“Especially after getting his ass kicked by one of those fucking dyke-bitches,” growled Paul, rolling his eyes.

“You guys ran from them too, you know,” mumbled Devon reproachfully.

“How the fuck do you know what we did?!” snarled Jacob, shoving him out of his chair and onto the ground where he fell in a heap. “You were fucking dead. And we showed those cunts not to fuck with us!”

Isaac and Paul nodded slowly, though uncertainly. As if they weren’t quite in agreement with Jacob’s version of events.

I sighed and, while still keeping my face empty of emotion, helped Devon to his feet. “So… what? You were attacked?”

“The Valkyries,” sighed Devon, nodding as he took his seat again. “Came over the hill on horseback. Ambushed us.”

“You were supposed to keep watch, dumbass,” growled Jacob derisively. “Instead of standing around with your cock in your hands.”

“They were hiding, Jacob!” said Devon, exasperated. “They rode out of the sun! And plenty of other people missed them too! You missed them!”

“Because I was stuck babysitting you and the rest of the fucking shitters,” snapped back Jacob, raising a fist. “Not to mention they couldn’t beat us in a fair fight, so they used all that magic bullshit…”

“Magic?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. I hadn’t really seen much magic in RoEM. I wasn’t sure if the divine intervention I received counted. I knew there were potions and such, like the one Marianne had applied to me when I was injured, but I hadn’t seen anything more spectacular than that.

“Some kind of bomb or something,” sighed Devon, shaking his head. “They shot an arrow that exploded. Magic, I guess.”

“We lost too many people because of those cunts,” growled Jacob, gritting his teeth. “Maybe we could have fucking taken Duneport if you hadn’t been stupid and left to play grab-ass with the Steelies, leaving the rest of us to get jumped.” 

Devon winced. “I still got shit done. The Crusade let me fight with them…”

“Yeah, but how many did you kill?!” he snarled derisively. “Did you actually make any kind of difference, faggot?”

I watched his face carefully, as Devon looked down at the floor in abject misery. 

“Useless,” sighed Jacob, shaking his head.

Jacob turned back to me, his face deadly serious. “Come on, Harlow, you’re wasting your time with those Steel posers. I mean, if they’re desperate enough to take faglord over here, you know they’re useless.” He unnecessarily hiked a thumb over to Devon.

I shrugged, “They just happened to be where I was.” God, I was amazed at how easily I was selling this. Maybe it came with pretending to be a boy for so long. I’d just gotten good at lying. Both to myself and others, apparently.

“But you’re done there, right? The whole forest was trashed,” said Jacob, raising an eyebrow. “Last I heard the Steelies are moving back north. You should join a real crew. You deserve better than those fucks.” He wrinkled his nose at Devon. “Especially if they’re letting trash like this fag fight with them.”

I winced internally. I didn’t want to think about how much damage the griefers had done to Whiteoak Falls. I’d still missed out on what had happened to them.

“You’re heading north, too, right?” asked Jacob eagerly. “We’re all heading to Golddell to finish all of them off. You could meet us there.” He turned to Devon. “Are you still in the woods, or did you get killed again fighting the tree-humpers?”

“I survived,” breathed Devon, swallowing hard.

“Fine. You’re close to Harlow… maybe do something useful and bring him to us,” sighed Jacob, as he turned to me. “The faggot can take you to us and we can show you some real fucking warriors.”

I winced. Mostly I had no intention of spending another second around these people more than I had to. “I can’t. Dad took my REMbox after he kicked out Paige. He wanted to protect me, I guess?”

“Fucking seriously?!” shouted Jacob in frustration, “Really? Just fucking take it back, shithead!”

I shrugged. “I can’t... Mom and Dad have been watching me. I’m locked in my room most of the time. They’re trying to make sure I don’t turn out gay too.” It was strange to describe it so casually… as if it was a mere inconvenience rather than a soul-crushing nightmare.

Jacob sighed, clearly infuriated by the inconvenience of my personal hell more than sympathetic. “Fucking bullshit... so we actually get a legit badass and he lost his fucking box. Unbelievable...” Jacob gritted his teeth for a moment, fuming, before saying, “Fine… when your Dad stops being a paranoid fuckwit, meet up with us, yeah?”

This was, of course, the last thing I wanted to do. I was barely able to tolerate their presence over the course of an hour-long “Bible study” which had not, as of yet, even opened the Bible.

But the possibility of getting information back to the Guardians through being a spy was too tempting. I couldn’t let this opportunity go by, no matter how dangerous it might be. I had to make them pay.

Besides, who knew when or if I would ever get my REMbox back in the first place. Might as well give it a shot.

“Okay,” I said, nodding. “Deal. As soon as I get my box back and as soon as I can make my way to Golddell, I’ll join you.”

“Fuck yeah,” grinned Jacob.

I leaned in closer. “So, what exactly are you calling yourselves? Your crew?”

Jacob laughed. “We were actually really stumped for a good name, but then those fucking NPCs gave us the most badass fucking name ever. The Chosen of Sword and Flame. Fucking BASED. Like... we were in Duneport wrecking all those elves... you know, the ones that look like nig-“

“I know,” I said, cutting across him, both to keep from hearing him go on a racist tirade and to get him to provide me useful info. “I’ve heard of you.” I had a rough location and a path. Outside of Duneport, moving to Golddell.

“Yeah, well, we were fucking eradicating them left and right. And we set up those burning crosses to mark our kills like we always do... but the fucking retards thought they were swords! But we told them to convert to our god or die… and they said they’d worship our god of Sword and Flame if we let them live.” 

He cackled wildly, slamming his fist into his palm with excitement.

“Fucking hell! ‘God of Sword and Flame’ It was fucking sick. So we kept the name. ‘The Chosen of Sword and Flame’! I mean, we killed them anyway like the animals they were, but still…” Jacob gave a little sigh of contentment, and lingered on the memories before turning back to me. “Sick shit, huh?” He reached out and offered a fist.

I nodded. “Praise the god of Sword and Flame?” I said, bumping it.

Ugh... even the brief contact with him felt slimy. I could feel my stomach twist with the desperate need to take a shower even from the second where we touched. 

The rest of the study quickly devolved into them trading gruesome stories of their exploits as each of them tried to one up one another. I kept quiet and tried to keep projecting that aura of cool confidence to the others, as if I was still only vaguely impressed by their carnage, rather than internally sick. 

Devon seemed to be particularly uncomfortable as well, and didn’t seem to have much in the way of war stories to tell. Mostly, the others just took turns making fun of him and calling him more slurs. I got the feeling that Devon existed to basically be a punching bag for the others to make them feel better. Though I couldn’t imagine why he put up with it.

Quietly, I tried to commit to memory everything that came out of their mouths, no matter how vile it happened to be. Hopefully, every ounce of information would give us just a little more edge on the griefers.

“Oh yeah,” said Jacob, looking at me. “You probably need a Discourse invite.”

I shook my head. “No phone. Dad took that too.”

“Fuck,” snorted Jacob, shaking his head. “Old bastard really flipped over his girl being a carpet-muncher.”

I looked to the clock, seeing gratefully that Bible study was thankfully over. “Just do what you can. Once I get my box back, you have me.”

Jacob nodded, and as he stood up, he slapped me on the back. “See! This is what I’m fucking taking about! Harlow fucking gets it!” He pushed past me and opened the door. “I’ll talk to Dad. Maybe he can get your dad to stop being such a pussy. See you on the battlefield, soldier.” He waved and strode towards Pastor Benny’s office.

Jacob’s absence was tangible, as everyone relaxed a little. Isaac and Paul ran off to go smoke, leaving me and Devon standing to step near the entrance of the church, waiting for our parents to pick us up. I guess Devon didn’t have his own car either.

“I’m sorry...” he said quietly, not meeting my gaze. “About your sister...”

I nodded, not trusting myself to say anything.

“I... get it...” he said, shuffling his feet slightly. “I told Dad I was having… urges... and months and months after he’s still paranoid. No phones, no friends over, nothing. It was only Jacob going to bat for me that I actually got my REMbox back. Acting as an accountability partner. So I wouldn’t stray...” 

I looked at him in shock. He winced, as if bracing himself for an attack.

“You’re gay?” I asked quietly, my tough-guy routine forgotten.

“Not anymore,” he insisted, more than a little panicked and fearful. “Got sent to camp... prayed it away. Now I’m straight as an arrow. Praise God.” He looked distant as he said it, as if they were words spoken by someone else rather than Devon himself.

The slightest inkling of sympathy began to simmer in my gut. If Devon really was gay... he was family. Maybe he had killed people, at least in RoEM, but I could see that same glimmer of regret and humanity that I had seen in Steven. I wondered, distantly, if he could be saved too.

“Promise you won’t tell Jacob… but I ran away when I spawned in Whiteoak Falls,” he breathed, hanging his head shamefully. “Me and the Steelies were taking some fucking farm on the outskirts, but a pair of players and NPCs met us there and fought back. We outnumbered them ten or twenty to one and they fucking destroyed us.”

My eyes widened as I turned to face Devon, a sharp realization tearing its way through my brain. “What?”

“We were falling left and right!” he said, visibly disturbed. “Arrows flying from the farmhouse and there was this fucking lizard monster that leaped onto us and tore people apart. And this chick… we thought she was just some fucking farm girl… but holy shit, she had this hammer and fucking destroyed people… crushed their heads like fucking watermelons.”

I continued to stare at him, realizing where I had seen that scared, miserable face before.

On the battlefield, wielding a single shaking pitchfork, looking at me as if I were a monster.

It was Devon. I hadn’t recognized his face in the course of the fighting. But in the light of the real world, I now knew it was him. He was the person I had sent away running and unharmed from my last fight.

“But she spared you,” I whispered, without thinking.

He blinked at me in alarm, as if I had slapped him. “What?! Uh… yeah! How did you…?”

I closed my eyes for a moment, thinking. Okay… time to step up and be a paladin.

“She spared you because she saw something redeemable in you. She saw that there was some part of you that was still human in the midst of the carnage. That, instead of anger, there was fear…” I said, slowly and deliberately "And regret."

“I’m not-” began Devon defensively, before I spoke over him.

“It’s not weakness,” I said impatiently, staring out into the night. “Being afraid is not a weakness or a fault. I wouldn’t have been able to fight as hard as I did without the fear. The fear of losing what was important to me gave me the strength to protect it.” I turned to face Devon, “What are you fighting for, Devon? What are you afraid to lose? Why do you let Jacob treat you like that?”

Devon forced out a sigh. “Jacob’s my… accountability partner… he reports to his dad and mine to make sure that I’m not… backsliding into temptation. If I don’t do whatever he wants me to do, he’ll get me sent back to… camp.” He swallowed hard, shuddering.

“You don’t need to live like this, Devon,” I said, putting a hand on his shoulder. He flinched.

I saw Dad’s car pull into the parking lot. I frowned for a moment before speaking. “When you log in to RoEM, go into Whiteoak Falls, surrender to the guard and ask for Leon. Tell him Zoey sent you. They’ll take care of you. I want to help you, Devon… if you’ll let me.”

He frowned for a moment, staring at me curiously. “W-why are you doing this? Why do you even give a shit?”

I sighed as I pushed open the door outside and stepped into the night air. “Because somebody has to.”

Dad stepped out of the car to meet me, eyebrows raised at my approach. I felt myself moving more readily and my head held higher. I even met his gaze, unflinching. “Well, you look like you’re in better spirits.”

I stared at him, seeing in him the same sickness I saw in Devon. Desperate fear and denial masked in bravado. I was beginning to wonder if Paige had been right about Dad being gay. I nodded to Dad politely as I stepped into the car. “Sure.”

The ride back home was essentially Dad grilling me on what scripture we studied and me giving vague and noncommittal answers. I didn’t think he would accept the answer that we’d blown off all scripture and talked about RoEM, with a sizable helping of the others spouting racial and LGBTQ+ slurs. 

I think Dad was at least grateful for the fact that I was speaking again, but no matter what happened, I had nothing to say to him. We had no common ground. Even if Dad was gay, we weren’t family. There was no sense of remorse or pain in Dad’s eyes, like there had been in Steven’s or Devon’s. There was only fear and fury now. 

I got into bed in a significantly emptier room. I stared at the ceiling as I turned off the lights, facing my first night in years without being able to use my REMbox. If Jacob was actually going to change my dad’s mind it certainly wouldn’t be immediate. And there was no guarantee that he would be able to get anything out of Dad anyway. That was the problem with fear. The most powerful fear of all is realizing that you might be wrong. Apologies were for queers, I guess.

I didn’t want to sleep. I tried to keep myself up, but without a phone or anything, save for a Bible I would never read again, there was nothing to keep my mind occupied. All I could think about was what I was missing. How many people were being hurt? Was Marianne still alive? Syd? Alexander? Seamus? Liam? Melody? Even if I got my REMbox back, was there even a RoEM to come back to?

I imagined it. The apartment burned to ashes. Everything gone, save for scorched stone. The blackened bones of Marianne desperately trying to escape, spread out onto the floor. The waterwheel shattered to splinters, leaving the forge cold and barren as every scrap of metal was picked clean. Milo, Odric, Alexander and the rest of the smiths all dead and dying, their empty eyes watching me with those silent words in their gaze:

Why weren’t you here to help?

The guard house was on fire still, the red and orange flames roared as the griefers had left it to burn. All around, guards were lying on the ground. Their armor and weapons were missing, as they had been looted. Only leaving their bodies behind. Frieda lay next to her partner Leon. An arrow in her back. Leon was a mess of wounds, nearly mangled beyond recognition. He had fought to the end, like a Guardian should. Next to him, Steven lay helpless and motionless. Still chained up. He hadn’t even been able to fight back. Even if he respawned, he was gone now. I couldn’t be there for him anymore. I wasn’t there for him then. And so he had died. Same as everyone else.

The great tree was dying, its branches snapping and its leaves either falling or burning to ash. Ash rained from the sky, poisoning the air and covering the ground like snow. The farmlands around it were scorched earth, all around. Corpses scattered around Whiteoak Falls, utterly silent.

Helplessly I was drawn to the farmhouse of our last stand. I saw Melody, sobbing over her father, limp and motionless as she cried over him, her dress drenched in blood. She looked up at me with hollow eyes, her face flecked with her father's blood.

“Why didn’t you save us?” she cried desperately, “why didn’t you help us? Aren’t you a Guardian?” Her tiny voice contorted in fury. “You’re a fake! You’re a fake guardian! You’re a fake paladin! You’re a fake girl!” She stabbed a finger of accusation at me, and as I looked down at my body, I saw that I was male. I brought up my hands in a panic, and saw that they were covered in blood too.

“Fake!” roared Melody, blood oozing out of her mouth, “Fake! Fake!”

I turned to run away, only to be faced by a massive knight in black armor wielding a flaming sword. I couldn’t move. Whatever training I had didn’t matter. I was a fake, after all... and this was what I deserved. He laughed, and from the depths of his armor I heard the poisonous voice of Jacob.

I called out for the Scalekeeper. My goddess. But as I stretched out my hand, I saw that the mark of my patron had been burned off my skin, leaving only an angry spot of charred flesh.

“Useless” hissed the voice of the goddess in my ear.

The sword of the shadowy knight rose above his head, blotting out the light of the ashen sun as he swung at me and-

 

 

I woke up with a start, my sweat soaking through my clothes. I took deep and shuddering breaths and I pressed my head into my hands, curled up in fear and agony. I sat there shivering and tired and broken. I knew it was a dream... I knew it wasn’t real... but neither was RoEM. I realized that RoEM had been keeping my nightmares at bay for a while and had suddenly come back with a vengeance.

I’d had a lot of bad dreams before I’d gotten a REMbox. In the past, before Dad made her stop, sometimes my Mom had come to comfort me. She would tell me it was just a dream. That everything was going to be okay. 

But... it wasn’t. Nothing was okay. I woke from the nightmare and found myself in another one.

As I tried to get back to sleep, all I could do was watch the moonlight stream in through the window and wait until it was too much effort to stave off rest.

Tap.

I shot up out of bed, pushing the covers off me. I frowned. Did I just imagine that sound? Was it just the product of a half-dream?

Tap

No... it was real. I stumbled through the darkness and followed the source of the noise. It sounded like it had come from the window. Was it a bug or a bird or something flying into it?

As I approached the window I saw it. A small pebble impacting the glass. I blinked and looked around for the source.

There, at the ground level of the house, standing under the window and readying another rock, was Gavin.

My heart lurched in my chest and I struggled to get the window open without waking my parents. He had gotten my letter!

I pushed open the window and peered down at him.

Gavin was dressed in a thick hooded jacket given the chill of the night. He looked up at me, his features lit up with the moon. He didn’t look precisely the same as what I saw of him in RoEM, but it didn’t matter. He was here.

He was here for me of all people. Not Zoey, of course, not as far as he knew. He was here for a friend who had ditched him and fell off the map.

I didn’t deserve his kindness, but I accepted it anyway.

“Gavin!” I hissed down at him. “What are you doing here!?”

“You disappeared, and only left a letter behind,” said Gavin, throwing his hands up. “I blew up your inbox and you never answered. I got worried.”

“I’m... grounded, I guess,” I sighed. “Dad took away everything. No phone, no internet, no REMbox.”

“Jesus... what did you do?” asked Gavin, “I mean, it’s you we’re talking about here.”

I shook my head. “It’s not about me,” I said, wincing, “It’s about my sister.”

I filled him in on Paige being outed and being forced out of the house and my Dad’s new level of paranoia and fear. Gavin’s eyes were wide in disbelief.

“Shit, that is fucked up,” said Gavin, heaving out a sigh, “like... this is some fucking civil rights child abuse bullshit...”

“I can’t do anything about it,” I said, resting my chin on the windowsill dejectedly, “he took everything away and the only way I leave the house is for church and Bible study.”

“Maybe... run? Go stay with Paige?” suggested  Gavin. 

I shook my head. “I can’t. I don’t know where she is. Even if I had my phone, Dad disconnected her service. Cut her off everything. I don’t know how I could get to her. She’s still not eighteen yet, so right now she’s a runaway. The police would be looking for her, so she has to hide. Besides...” I looked behind me to the bedroom door. “I’m locked in. Dad locks the house up at night.”

“Fucked up,” spat Gavin. He looked up at me helplessly. “Uh... shit, I really don’t know what I can do for you here... unless...” He looked down at the ground below me. “Um… you think you could jump?”

I stared at him in disbelief. “What?!” I hissed, shaking my head. It looked like more than ten feet to the ground, though my brain seemed to scream that it might as well have been a thousand feet or more. I shook my head, “No way… I’d break a leg.”

“I could… catch you?” said Gavin uncertainly. “Maybe?”

I frowned. Given the choice of breaking a leg and living one more moment with Dad… the leg-breaking felt like a better outcome.

“Let me think,” I sighed, shaking my head.

I imagined hanging out the window and dropping below. It would be less of a fall. Maybe if I rolled with the fall? That was something Marianne taught me in the course of fight-training, even if I wasn’t sure my real-world body would take it.

I looked over my shoulder. What would I need to take with me? My REMbox was gone. Some kind of clothes would help. I had a spare pair of shoes in the closet. Some leftover money from birthdays and allowances was all I really had. But beyond that, there was little else tying me to this house.

Except… 

I thought about Mom. I thought about leaving her behind and alone with an enraged Dad. What would he do to her if he lost both his kids? As useless as she was… did she deserve what would happen to her? There had been glimmers of kindness in her… once.

I looked down at Gavin, seeing him stare up at me in barely contained panic. Besides, would he accept me and help me if he knew who I really was? That I had kissed him? Was there any safety with him? Could I really trust him if he found out?

What if he abandoned me?

“What’s wrong?” he asked, seeing my hesitation.

There was only one way to be sure. I had to say it. There wouldn’t be another time. This was it. Gavin might hate me for it, but I couldn’t lie to him anymore. If he was going to help me… it had to be the real me.

I took a deep breath. “Gavin... I need to tell you something.”

On the ground below, Gavin looked up at me, patiently waiting. I swallowed hard and tried to force the words out.

“I’m Zoey...”

Gavin didn’t freak out. He didn’t scream at me. He didn’t throw anything or run away. He just looked up at me with those brown, kind eyes full of moonlight and softly said, “I know.”

My jaw dropped. I found myself incapable of putting words together as I felt a sense of missing a step along a staircase and tumbling in freefall.  

“I have to admit, I didn’t see it at first,” Gavin continued, nodding. “You look different, obviously. You sound different. You act differently. But the more time we spent together the more I pieced together why you felt so familiar. That night... in front of the apartment... wrapped in your arms... kissing you... I realized it.”

I stared at him, head still spinning. I struggled to get the words out, sputtering, “But... but... we... you... you never said!”

“It wasn’t my place to pry,” said Gavin, shaking his head. “You were obviously going through a lot. I was just waiting for you to open up.”

I threw out my arms in exasperation. “You said I was cute!!” I hissed. “Look at me now! I look like a boy!”

“You are cute,” said Gavin, eyebrows raised, “you always have been. Even when I thought you were a boy.” He laughed, a little self-consciously. “Zoey... I’ve been lowkey crushing on you since we were kids.”

My head spun. “What? But... I was... I looked like...!” I couldn’t finish it. I looked like a boy!

“Didn’t matter... at least not to me,” said Gavin, smiling.

My heart hammered in my chest. “You... you never said.”

“Uh... given how you were brought up,” he said, looking down at the grass at his feet, “I didn’t really feel safe bringing it up when we were younger. And it took me a while to understand what being pansexual really meant anyway.” He shook his head, “Look... Zoey... everything I said and did in RoEM... it still stands. I love you... maybe I don’t fully understand everything, but I care for you. I would risk anything for you. I... it means the world to me that you can be yourself around me. I love you for who you really are.”

I sagged miserably. “Look at me Gavin... I’m dressed like a boy. I’m getting facial hair...” I had to fight back tears and my voice came out strangled. “I’m not a girl.”

“Yes. You. Are.” Gavin enunciated. “You are the most beautiful girl I’ve ever known. It’s not about your outside, it’s about who you are on the inside. You are kind, loving and sweet and fuck. You don’t need an avatar for that, Zoey. It’s just you.”

He broke into a fragile grin. His voice cracked as he said the words. “I love you.”

Tears spilled down my cheeks. I had to stop myself from openly sobbing, given my parents were still asleep. But nevertheless, I choked out those words.

“I love you, too.”

That did it. The blazing truth of those words burned through all doubts. I would throw myself off the top of the Whiteoak Falls tree district if I knew Gavin was there to catch me. I dressed as warmly as I could, throwing on a hoodie. I threw on a pair of socks and old shoes. I gathered the essentials into a knotted-up blanket and lowered the blanket down to him. He caught it and set it aside.

I took a deep breath and began to put a leg out onto the windowsill. Then the other.

I slipped slightly, my feet scuffing along the siding of the house as I lost traction. I held onto the window for dear life, but in doing so, I slammed my body painfully against the side of the house.

There was the sound of footsteps, a grumbled shouting from Dad from behind the doors. There was no more time to hesitate. I looked down to Gavin, and, closing my eyes, let go.

There was a sickening drop as my stomach lurched, there was a grunting and flash of pain as I collided with what I assumed to be Gavin. I opened my eyes and found myself unbearably close to him as well as being entangled in his limbs. We stared at one another awkwardly.

Dad’s voice grew clearer and I heard the fumbling of a lock above us from the room above. Lights from the next door neighbors turned on. 

Gavin leaped to his feet and I managed to follow him, although my ankle twinged as I tried to put weight on it. I stumbled. Gavin grabbed the bag in one hand and helped carry my weight with his other arm.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” shouted Dad, clearly seeing that I was gone. We redoubled our pace, small shards of pain shooting up my leg as we stumbled to the car.

“GET BACK HERE RIGHT NOW!” roared Dad, now peering out the window, “I SWEAR TO GOD, IF YOU DON’T, I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU!”

I gritted my teeth, and shouted back to him. “I’D RATHER BE DEAD THAN BE YOUR SON, YOU FUCKING MONSTER!”

There was another burst of cursing, and I heard Dad fumbling. As I chanced a glance over my shoulder, I realized what was happening.

Dad was trying to scramble through the window to follow us.

“Shit,” hissed Gavin, redoubling his pace as we limped across the front lawn together. I struggled to keep pace, my ankle shrieking in pain as I did so. Gavin fumbled frantically with his keys. The doors of the car ahead of us unlocked and opened and as we drew close, I heard Dad hit the ground with a thump and more cursing.

Mom called back to me, with a name that wasn’t my own, from the window above. More lights around the neighborhood lit up, with shadows outlined around us. Eyeless watchers that would simply watch the terror unfold, but would do nothing to stop it.

As Gavin tossed the bag into the car and scrambled around to the driver seat, I heard an inhuman roar and the sound of furious thudding footsteps drawing closer to us.

Dad was charging full tilt at the two of us, dressed only in his boxers. His eyes were wide with fury and his face so red that it was almost purple. And as he drew closer at a speed I had never seen him move, I realized with a cold certainty that we weren’t going to be fast enough.

I steadied myself and, as I had done in the game too many times, prepared to fight for my life.