Save Point 19

Rosabella

I'll admit, it takes me a long while to come out of the bathroom and, when I do, my heart lurches as I reluctantly turn the lock on the doorknob.

This is my decision?

Fuck this.

...But I've already made up my mind.

My hand swivels the cold doorknob, and the door creaks open, displaying Callen's brow wrinkled in concern as he hunches over his knees on the side of the bed, pausing in rubbing his hands together. He looks...as troubled as I feel.

"Hey there, kid," he starts with a half-hearted smile, "You okay?"

I secretly wish he'd asked me anything else.

My mind is spinning—my head hurts from the pressure of it.

"No," I croak. I know why my throat's so dry, but there's nothing I can do about it.

Goran killed my real dad and mom.

Goran is responsible for the decay of The Game—for the deaths of tons of people and the expanding darkness of the Darken...for Joy's disease that will probably end in her death...

I grit my teeth.

Callen pats the spot next to him on the bed, but I don't sit down. Instead, I cross my arms over my chest and lean against the wall, trying to command my eyes to stop smarting and whittle down the anger coiling in my chest...but it only grows bigger by the second.

"Callen, tell me this:" I begin tersely, each word wrenching off my tongue, "you let me go? Why? I'm the only one who can fix your world, right? The last Game Maker."

I watch the man's eyes twist, but he quickly smooths his expression over so it's firm and steady again underneath the cropped cut of his gray hair. "That's two questions in one," he inclines his head at me in acknowledgement, "First, yes, you are the last Game Maker and the only one who can save our world. And, second...I—" He looks down at his feet for the briefest minute as his voice cracks, but I catch it. "I wanted to offer you a way out—a chance at a normal life if you want one."

The sincerity in his face and eyes tells me he's not lying, which makes this, somehow, even harder. Thoughts race through my mind:

He's not lying. The Game Wardens are good people...

And their world is rotting...

I chew on my bottom lip. Once I say this, I can't take it back.

Maybe Callen's right; maybe I can have a normal life. Maybe I can go back to sleep and wake up and, somehow, convince myself that everything I've experienced is a lie.

That I'm just a normal, teenage girl.

In a very real New York City.

And there is no game.

No legacy.

No need to avenge and fix my parents' death or The Game world.

No anger knotting in my heart at the man who killed them—

MURDERED them—

No.

It's impossible.

It'd be downright impossible to lie to myself like that.

I'm NOT normal.

I'm Game Maker Rosabella, and I carry the last of my generation's genes. I'm The Game's last chance for survival. My parents' people are my responsibility now. Everything is in shambles, and only I can fix it—

Callen interrupts my inner monologue, his face scrunching into a strange sort of wince as he appears to listen to something only he can hear. After a minute, his face straightens and his lips curl into a laughing smile, "Joy would like to inform you that portals aren't supposed to be used for intercom calls." He stifles a laugh.

"Well..." I ponder, letting the word sit on my tongue like the decision I'm not sure I'm ready to commit to yet... But, then, I decide. ...And I'm right—there's no taking this back. My eyes harden as I open my mouth again, "You can tell Joy to fuck off. Because this isn't an intercom call. I'm coming back with you. I want you to take me back into The Game."

Callen's jaw drops—that's the only way to describe it. He looks completely stunned and runs a quick hand through his hair, his eyes tracing circles on the floor like he can't believe it.

"What?!" he finally sputters, "You—want to go back?"

But I'm already gathering my body armor from the floor, into my arms. I turn my head over the pile of it and my shoulder to call back to him as I move towards the bathroom to change, "Yep. Somebody's gotta face this shit and fix your world. Might as well be me..."

"Rosabella—" he starts, shoving a hand in the door before I can close it, "You know you don't have to do this, right?"

His eyes are beseeching.

But he's wrong.

Because I do have to do this.

For my parents.

For me.

For...some kind of peace. Because there's none in this empty apartment, that's for sure.

Now, I feel like I have some sort of direction—some sort of place.

A goal.

It feels...secure.

Like something to finally, fully lock into.

"You weren't lying I hope?" I challenge him instead of answering, "When you said I'm strong. How do you know that?" I bite my lip, putting more weight on his words than I'd ever admit.

The man chuckles, his face opens up again—lining with impressed humor as he lifts both eyebrows, "Do you know any other newb who can best a dragon?"

That makes me want to smile to.

I did kill that dragon. I fucking did it when it seemed impossible.

But my brow creases again. "Callen," I hold a wavering hand out and put it on his arm to stop him from closing the door fully, "I don't think I should have killed that dragon—the silver one. It told me my dad would have never have killed one."

Callen's eyes darken, but only for a minute. He nods, "Okay, so make a new choice this time. It's as simple as that, kid."

He turns and walks away.

And I let the door shut behind him.

And I think about it there, with my arms wrapped around the huge ball of body armor and my mother's sword sticking out.

And it is as simple as that.

"I'm going to make you proud", I whisper to the glistening blade of the weapon like I'm talking to my mother.

If I'm going to do this and save their world, I'm going to do it my way.

***

The second Callen brings me back through the portal, blue boxes pops into my vision, obscuring the dark night and forest:

"Hoeeee! She's back!" Rainer belts in excitement, lifting a fist over his head.

I barely have time to dismiss the blue box and wrap my mind around the increased stats before something runs and hits me, full in the chest.

I immediately recognize dark hair and the skinny, pale arms wrapped tight around my frame.

"Dormouse?"

The boy loosens his grip just enough to grin up at me, "See, she always remembers my name, Joy—without fail. Unlike some people..." He flashes an annoyed stare at the pink-haired girl who only scowls in return.

"If you're not secure enough in your identity to embrace my nicknames, that's on you," she fires back.

"Nicknames are for those who express affection," Rainer barks gruffly, "And you, Joy, hardly have a sentimental bone in your body. You didn't even welcome Rosabella back—"

"Welcome," the pink-haired girl snorts bleakly at me, slapping her hands sarcastically against her thighs, "Please come and eat up all the meager rations we do have—"

"Joy," Callen warns.

But not even the girl can rain on my parade. Because something is expanding inside my heart, just seeing all of them again.

Warmth?

A surprising and strange warmth.

Washing over my core.

Because they almost strangely feel like a little bit of family to me...

"You're not hurt, are you?" Rainer immediately begins to check me over, "Those New York thugs are the real deal—"

I try to shove off his intense eyes and sausage fingers which pry at my wrists. "I was just in the apartment, safe and snug; I wasn't dealing with any drug dealers," I tell him.

His gets a little red in the face and embarrassed by that. "Oh," he says, trying to latch onto his tough-guy exterior again and turn away, "Right."

"So, you're okay?" Dormouse asks, his eyes wide with concern and his hair falling into his eyes like usual. The skin of his face is such a stark contrast to the night sky behind him.

"Yeah," I trail off, dusting off the body armor on my arms for something to do, "Yeah, I think I'm alright."

My fingers play with the hilt of my mother's sword at my belt as I stare up at the coal-colored sky. The woods surrounding us are dark, the silhouettes of enormous pines stretch along the horizon in tiers as the stars twinkle above. I stare at the patterns of blue and purple twisting and meshing with the glowing orbs, taking in a deep breath of the chill night hair. This place is magical. ...But my decision to come here? To do this... Is it right?

Have I made the right choice?

I notice Dormouse hasn't moved from his position at my side even though the others have. The boy stares, unabashed, into the vastness of the sky above us, his eyes transfixed on every detail of it like he sees the magic there too.

Like we both understand what tiny specs of this universe we are.

And how we can be destroyed at any moment.

And, yet, how beautiful each moment can be...if you let it.

"It's still my birthday, you know," I whisper up into the Heavens like a wish I never got to ask.

And Dormouse's head swivels sharply, "Your birthday? We have the cake we found with you from the bunker—" he rushes.

"Not the cake," I cut him off, "Please. Goran made that for me with black magic—"

"Right, no cake," he quickly corrects. "...But we have plenty of food to share. We'll make it a party! I think we have marshmallows we can roast"—I can't protest the utter glee in his face—"Joy, where did you put the marshmallows?". He calls it over his shoulder.

"Up your mother's ass."

The girl's response echoes in the valley, catching us both off guard.

"No, up your mother's ass" Rainer counters loudly, shoving the pink-haired girl who goes flying to the side with an aggravated grunt.

And a smile splits my face.

And a laugh bubbles up from my chest.

And Dormouse laughs too.

And I know, in that moment, I've already gotten what I'd wished for.

A decision.

A place that feels more like home.

Some clarity.

And it's all I need for right now.