Radical-9
Intermission III:

Intermission III:

February 23^rd, 2022

7:13 pm

It’s dark, the lights outside Andy’s room have just shut off. Mr. Carroway has had him moved to a sort of interim hospital room where his friend, Miss Melanie Moon stays to observe him and keep him fed and whatnot. I’ve been visiting him for the past three days, checking up on him and the like. I've been the only one who has besides for Miss Moon. Mom is too distraught with absolutely everything, she hasn't even been to work since this whole thing happened. I've had to pick up a job at the local grocery store just to keep her fed. It is like I'm my mom's Miss Moon. Any time that I'm not at work or cooking at home I'm here, watching over Andy.

It’s hard to believe he could be so close to me, yet so far away at the same time. I guess it'd be the same if he were in a coma or something else. Except those who are comatose aren't being held hostage in a virtual prison by some stupid helmet that hardwired its way into their brain. If I could just maybe shake him awake, and everything would be okay, like he just overslept or something. My mind is a whirlwind of questions, most, if not all that will never be answered. Some are like, “Dear benevolent deity that may or may not watch over us, why would you let something like this happen to us now? Why now of all times?” Others are simply “Andy, why couldn't you just choose not to play the damn game this one time?”

As if on cue, Andy begins shaking. I hear him say some nonsensical ramblings. I walk up near his head, listening in. “Andy! Are you awake? Andy!” I say, shaking his shoulders, willing him to wake.

“Jen…?” I hear him ask.

“Hey! You aren’t going to let them get the best of you, are you Cress?!” I say back, grabbing his hand. I'm in tears.

That is our favorite go-to saying. I'm hoping that this isn't some temporary consciousness like last time. The police officers said that sometimes what happens to him in that game may mirror its way into the real world. So he might seem like he's speaking to me for a period of time, but it is just echoes of what he is saying in there, to others that are trapped with him. A few more seconds of the rambling and his arm goes limp once more. He’s back in the virtual world. Then again, he never really left. I slink over to the wall and sit down.

“I was so close.” I say, wiping a stray tear from my face. “I was so close!” I sigh and stand back up. “If only he would just wake the fuck up!” I have to hold the wall to keep me up. In between breaths I grab my bag from the chair I was sitting in and decide to head home for the night. I hate not being able to do anything to help. If I could just help in some way.

Before shutting the door, I look back into the room, “Please come back to us…I miss you more than anything,” I say, letting the words fall flat as I shut the door behind me.