Game Over

“You’ve got to be fucking shitting me!”

Ali slammed her palm down on the desk as she stared at the computer screen in disgust.  She had been happily chatting to her boyfriend online when he decided to leave her to play a game of Battlefield 3.

Now she was staring at the screen in disbelief, his comments ceasing as he logged off.

Oh sure, she had said “It’s fine.  Go play,” but deep down inside she was furious.  This was their communication time and he blew her off for a video game.  What?  Was he fucking insane? 

She picked up her cell phone.  She was going to give this prick a piece of her mind. 

Before she dialed his number she went back through the entire conversation they had.  He had asked her if it was okay for him to go and play twice.  Ali always felt guilty when he did that.  She felt like she couldn’t say “Well, actually that is a problem because I want to talk to you,” so instead she was like “Fine.”

Fine.

All men know that’s a dangerous word coming from a woman.  Fine always meant there was nothing good going to come from it.

Why couldn’t chat rooms have an emotional font to allow a guy to understand when his girlfriend is pissed off at him?  Or when she’s upset?  Or when she truly is fine?  Or how about a font that diagnoses when she’s sending words begrudgingly because she doesn’t want to look like a total bitch?

Ali put down the phone.  It wasn’t fair to berate him over this when she didn’t exactly say that she wanted him to stay.  And he did say he’d only be gone an hour.  Surely there was something around her house that could entertain her for an hour.

She walked away from her computer and turned on the TV.  Flipping through the channels, Ali came across some horror movie.  Tossing the remote aside, Ali propped her head up on her chin and watched with interest as the girl on screen struggled to free herself from the predicament that she was in.

An hour later, Ali checked her computer.  Her boyfriend still hadn’t returned.  Turning back to the film, Ali began to fume silently.  Maybe she should have called him and screamed at him.

She soon got swept up in the movie as this girl fought for her life.  She had to refrain from rolling her eyes as she realized that this girl was playing a game of life or death with a deranged lunatic.  As the credits began to roll, Ali realized that he still hadn’t returned.  “Must be a good game,” she muttered angrily.

Grabbing her car keys, Ali made her way downstairs and out to her car.  It was cold outside, despite the sunshine.  That wind was like ice hitting her body.  Ali shivered and wrapped her arms around her body to keep warm as she hurried across the snow filled parking lot to her beat up Mustang. 

She loved her old car.  Her boyfriend had promised to restore it to its former glory but sadly he hadn’t done a thing to it in over a year.  Instead he was more concerned with how many lives he could kill in his stupid video game.

Shoving the keys into the lock, Ali ripped open the door with a loud creak.  Her anger hadn’t subsided.  If anything she was more pissed off as she climbed into the car and started it.  The engine rumbled and spluttered. 

Ali slammed the door closed.  She thought he would have learned his lesson the first time he had done this.  The first time he left her to play stupid Battlefield, she had gone on a rant online, asking what the appeal of the game was and why a guy would blow her off to play it.  He had reacted hurt to what she had done, telling her she was way more important and from now on she came first.  He would never leave her to play another round of anything without her express permission.

Turning the corner, Ali sighed.  Because she didn’t want to seem like an uber bitch, she had given him that permission.  She felt tears building behind her eyes.  She had only herself to blame.  Guilt replaced anger as she wondered if storming his house was the best thing to do.

Pulling up a set of traffic lights, Ali glanced down at her phone.  No missed calls.  No messages.  Nothing from him at all.  He did say he was only going to be gone an hour and it was now boarding on two.  Clearly he was more interested in this video game then he was her.

Her anger returned.  How hard would it be for him to send her a message like “Honey, I’m engrossed at the moment.  I’ll call you later and make it up to you when I see you next time.”  Sure, she still would have been hurting but at least she would know that she was still on his mind and that he would make it up to her later. 

She drove through the quiet streets of his neighborhood, watching as children played in the snow out the front of their houses.

Pulling up in his driveway, she glanced at the house.  It was dark, the curtains drawn and all the windows closed.  She sighed, clucking her tongue.  Why couldn’t this be easy?

She climbed out of her car, locking it as she made her way up the driveway, scanning the exterior for any signs of life.  The dog next door barked at her as she knocked on the front door.  No answer.

Ali walked around the side of the house to where his bedroom was.  The curtains were pulled but not closed entirely.  Standing precariously on a firewood pile, Ali stretched, clinging to the window frame, attempting to see inside the house.

There he was.  Her boyfriend was sitting at his computer, tongue poking out the corner of his mouth as he watched the screen intently.

Huffing a little, Ali climbed down from her perch atop the firewood pile and made her way to the back door.  Both her boyfriend and his two roommates were notorious for leaving the door closed but unlocked.

Ali turned the handle and the door swung open.  Typical, she thought, rolling her eyes as she entered the kitchen.

It was so much warmer inside the house then what it was outside.  Ali quickly removed her jacket and scarf and cupped her hands around the kettle to thaw them out a little.

Once her hands were warm, Ali made her way down the hall towards his room.  Poking her head in the door, she could see how engrossed he was.  He was shouting at the screen, cursing when something went wrong and chugging down energy drinks like they were going out of style.

Ali sat on the corner of his bed, wondering if he had even noticed her enter his room.  Judging from the triumphant yell, he hadn’t.

Sighing loudly, Ali looked around his room, disgusted at how unkempt it was.  Boxes lined the floor, filled with clothes and shoes.  His trash can that sat beside his desk looked like it hadn’t been emptied in months and there was a rather offensive odor hanging around.

Then she saw it out the corner of her eye.  His lucky baseball bat, discarded into one of the boxes.  Her hand swept over the smooth wood, feeling the different grains.

“Yes!”

Her head snapped up as she looked at him.  He still hadn’t noticed her appearance.  Blowing her off for a game was one thing, but Ali certainly did not like being ignored. 

Clutching the baseball bat in her hands, Ali stood up and moved behind him.  With one swift strike, he fell from his chair and hit the floor with a thud.

*     *     *     *     *     *

Eric’s eyes opened slowly.  Everything was out of focus and his head hurt.  What hit him?  And more importantly, what was that smell?  Was that…gas?

He tried to move, but he couldn’t.  His arms felt weighted down.  He moved his head from side to side, trying to understand what was happening. 

His arms were tied outstretched, as were his legs.  Four long ropes were tied to each limb as he stood in the center of his room.

A disturbing static noise caused him to turn his head to the computer screen.  It was snowy, black and white lines ran over the screen before an image appeared.  It was an image of his girlfriend.

“Hi Eric,” Ali said, her brown eyes glistening as she focused the camera on her face.  “I know you like playing games so I’ve got a good one for you.  It’s called Live or Die.  The rules are simple.  I’ll ask you a question.  If you get it right, we move onto the next round.  If you get it wrong….”  Her voice trailed off. 

“If I get it wrong then what?” Eric demanded, tugging on the restraints.

“Then you lose more than just a round.  You’ll pay with your blood.”

Eric let out a scream, frantically tugging on the ropes.  He had hoped that the ropes would be old and frail that simply tugging on them would cause them to fray and simply fall apart.  Sadly, this wasn’t the case as Ali had used something new to keep him bound.

“First question: What did you do wrong in the last twenty-four hours?”

Eric stopped struggling long enough to scream, “I don’t fucking know you crazy bitch!”

Ali clucked her tongue.  “Ooh sorry, babe.  That was the wrong answer.”

Eric screamed in pain as the rope around his left arm began pulling tightly, stretching his limb before popping it from the shoulder.  With another quick tug, his left arm fell from his body, blood spurting all over his bed, down his side and pooled on the wooden floor.

“Let’s try that again.  Same question.”

Eric looked at the computer screen, studying Ali’s face.  She wasn’t joking.  Her stern expression shook him to the core.  “Ali, I don’t know,” he said, tears falling from his eyes.  “I don’t know.”

“Wrong answer again,” she said, pressing a button on screen.

The rope around his right leg pulled tight.  Eric begged his screen for mercy as a loud popping sound filled his ears.  With a soft thud, his leg fell to the ground, blood spurting from where it use to be attached.

He felt faint.  What’s worse, he knew he was going to lose the two other limbs because he had no idea what she was asking him.

Ali’s disturbing smile returned to the screen as she closed in on the camera.  “OK, how about we try a new question.  What have you done wrong to me in the last three hours?”

Eric shook his head, falling and out of consciousness.  He didn’t know what he had done to her to make her so angry with him.  His head lolled around, his eyes opening to see the blurry screen. 

The screen.

Eric opened his mouth as his focus zoomed in on Battlefield 3 sitting atop his desk, surrounded by papers.

“I left our conversation to play a game,” he asked, breathing hard. 

Ali’s expression softened.  “Correct.”

The rope around his left leg and right arm loosened and Eric collapsed to the floor, growing weaker from the loss of blood.

Ali appeared in his doorway, her dark brown hair falling over her shoulders softly. 

“Help me,” Eric begged, tears streaming down his face.  “Don’t leave me like this.”

Ali’s demented smile returned as she reached out to him, cupping his chin in her hand.  “Sorry, babe,” she said, her teeth clenched. 

She stood up, a match book in hand.  She struck one, watching the amber flame dance on the now black head.

Eric pleaded with her to stop as she tossed the match onto his bed and watched with glee as the room ignited. 

“You better hope you bleed out first,” she told him, turning on her heel and walking back into the hall.  “I hear being burned alive is simply awful.”

“You bitch!” Eric shouted, crawling as best he could to the bedroom door.  “You won’t get away with this!”

Ali turned back, watching him struggling against the heat and blood loss.

“Yes I will,” she replied, slamming his bedroom door shut.

“This game is over.”