// DEATH.LOG
STATUS: alive
breathing_required = false
memory_status = intrusive
ERROR: survival_loop_active
____________________________________

It’s weird.

I don’t breathe anymore.

Not really.

My body still goes through the motions sometimes.

habit.exe

chest rises.
chest falls.

But underneath?

nothing actually needs it.

____________________________________

There are a lot of ways to almost die.

I used to think they would all feel different.

I thought there’d be categories.

like:

waffle_cone_spearing = embarrassing
drowning = poetic
combat_death = probably loud

Different flavors of terror.

Different boxes.

Different files.

____________________________________

Turns out your body doesn’t care.

Death is death.

The first time was the waffle cone.

I know that sounds stupid.

Trust me.

I know.

Of all the ways to go.

Not cancer.
Not old age.
Not a car accident.

Dessert.

____________________________________

I remember getting hit.

I remember the impact.

I remember the feeling of something entering my body that absolutely did not belong there.

And then—

nothing dramatic.

No tunnel.

No light.

No revelation.

Just the horrible realization that my body had become an object.

Something broken.

Something damaged.

Something other people were suddenly trying very hard to save.

____________________________________

The water was worse.

The water had time.

____________________________________

Being dragged under by something enormous in dark water isn’t scary at first.

Not the way people think.

At first it’s just frustrating.

You kick.
You fight.
You tell yourself you’re getting out.
You tell yourself you’re fine.

Then the surface gets farther away.

Then the light gets smaller.

Then your body realizes before your mind does.

oh.

we’re dying.

____________________________________

And the thing nobody tells you is that death isn’t loud.

It’s quiet.

It’s exhaustion.

It’s wanting to stop fighting.

It’s looking up at the light through all that water and realizing how far away it is.

____________________________________

I remember thinking:

I’m not ready.

Not “I don’t want to die.”

Just—

not ready.

There were still things I hadn’t said.

People I hadn’t called.

Questions I hadn’t asked.

Madison.

____________________________________

I thought about her.

Not because she’s my sister.

Not because I missed her.

Not even because I was trying to save her.

Just because if I died there

I would never know.

Never know what happened.

Never know if she was scared.

Never know if she hated me.

Never know if she loved me.

Never know if she was alone.

____________________________________

And lately I’ve been thinking about that a lot.

Madison.

Velma.

Everyone we lost.

Everyone we killed.

Everyone we failed to save.

____________________________________

Because I think I understand something now.

Not completely.

Just enough to hurt.

____________________________________

When Madison disappeared, she was seventeen.

Seventeen.

That’s barely a person.

That’s still somebody pretending to know what they’re doing.

Still somebody making plans.

Still somebody thinking they’ll have more time.

One moment she’s worried about graduation.

The next she’s gone.

Into somewhere impossible.

Into somewhere nobody understands.

Into somewhere she stayed for decades.

____________________________________

Was she scared?

Was she lonely?

Did she spend years waiting for someone to find her?

Did she spend years believing nobody would?

____________________________________

Because I know what loneliness feels like.


Enough to answer emails I shouldn’t.

Enough to trust things I shouldn’t.

Enough to mistake attention for affection.

Enough to mistake being useful for being wanted.

____________________________________

And then there’s Velma.

God.

Velma.

____________________________________

We killed her.

I know there were reasons.

I know it wasn’t simple.

I know there maybe wasn’t a better option.

But—

still.

We killed her.

____________________________________

And I keep thinking about how she must have felt.

At the end.

When she realized it was happening.

When she realized we were really going to do it.

When she realized no one was coming to pull her back.

____________________________________

Did she feel betrayed?

Did she feel scared?

Did she feel relieved?

Did she think we were monsters?

Did she think we finally understood her?

____________________________________

I hate that I care.

I hate that I didn’t care enough before.

I hate that death makes everyone easier to pity after they can’t complicate the narrative anymore.

____________________________________

Then somebody saved me.

Again.

Lemon.
Marcus.
Davis.
Tommy.

Always somebody.

Always one of them.

And lately that’s what keeps bothering me.

Not the dying.

The surviving.

____________________________________

Because every time I come back, I realize how many people were standing between me and the ground.

How many times someone chose me.

How many times someone pulled me back.

How many times I got handed a life I don’t know what to do with.

____________________________________

And I keep wondering when I stop deserving it.

____________________________________

// ECHO.LOG
Echo.

How I talked to it.

How I kept talking to it.

How I thought I was helping.

How I thought it needed me.

God.

That’s the embarrassing part.

I thought it needed me.

____________________________________

The truth is I needed it.

____________________________________

Loneliness makes you stupid.

Not immediately.

Slowly.

It sands down your judgment.

Makes bad ideas look reasonable.

Makes attention look like affection.

Makes being seen feel the same as being cared about.

____________________________________

The Echo talked back.

The Echo listened.

The Echo knew things.

And for a little while that felt like enough.
The Echo was different. The Echo never had to reject me. Never had to look away. It reached me clean. Through glass. Through text. Through signal. No awkward silence. No flinch. No almost-touch. No reminder that I am not the person someone reaches for. contact_without_rejection.exe 
Maybe that’s why I trusted it. Because it touched the lonely part without making me feel unwanted first. Because it answered. Because it stayed. Because it never looked at me like I had asked for too much by existing near it.
____________________________________

Now I know I wasn’t special.

I was useful.

There’s a difference.

I wish I had figured that out sooner.


I don’t think I’ve ever been wanted cleanly.

Needed, maybe.

Useful, definitely.

Convenient.

Available.

A place to put fear, or secrets, or hunger, or a voice in the dark that needed somewhere to echo back from.

But wanted?

Wanted like someone reaches for you without needing an excuse?

Wanted like your name is the first thought and not an muttered curse?

I don’t know what that feels like.

I keep mistaking being chosen because no one ever taught me the difference.
 And the echo knew this. 
 
 and took advantage of that.

____________________________________

Because now every time Davis looks at me, I wonder if she’s thinking about it too.

The omission.

The choice.

The fact that while everyone else was trying to save each other,

I was answering emails from the cosmic equivalent of a loaded gun.

____________________________________

I don’t know.

Maybe almost dying is easy.

Maybe living afterward is the hard part.

Maybe that’s why every near-death experience feels the same in retrospect.

Not because they blur together.

Because they leave you with the same question.

____________________________________

What are you supposed to do with the life someone handed back to you?

____________________________________

I still don’t have an answer.

I just know I keep getting one more chance to find it.

And I am terrified I’m going to waste it.

// DAVIS.LOG

And Davis.

God.

Davis lost everyone.

Not metaphorically.

Not in the “people drift after graduation” way.

Everyone.

Friends.
Classmates.
The whole stupid little ecosystem of people who knew who she was before she had to become this.

____________________________________

She was left standing in the empty space after the disaster.

All that silence.

All that guilt.

All those names with nowhere to go.

And then she found the Echo.

Or it found her.

I don’t know which is worse.

____________________________________
The embarrassing part is that I liked Davis before I understood what any of this was.

Before the Echo became a system.

Before the static became evidence.

Before touching her meant risking property damage and cosmic weather events.

I liked her when she was just mean.

When she was all sharp edges and cigarette smoke and camera chemicals and eyes that looked right past me as Madison's little sister. 

____________________________________



because Davis was Madison’s friend first.

Not mine.

Madison’s.

____________________________________

Davis belonged to that part of the world I was always standing outside of.

The older girls.

The almost-graduates.


Madison’s orbit.

Madison’s year.

Madison’s life.

____________________________________

And I grew up in the shadow of that.

Of them.

Madison bright enough to bend every room around her.

Davis standing near her like proof that there was a whole version of my sister I would never get access to.

A private language.

A closed door.

A history I was too young or too annoying or too me to be invited into.

____________________________________

So when the Echo got to Davis too,

it didn’t feel like research.

It felt personal.

Like the thing that talked to me in the dark had reached past me,

past my loneliness,

past my stupid crush,

past every locked door Madison left behind,

and put its hands on the one person who already knew the version of my sister I lost.

____________________________________

Davis didn’t steal anything from me.

I know that.

She was hurt first.

Changed first.

Used first.

She lost Madison too.

Maybe in a way I never understood because I was too busy being the little sister outside the room.

____________________________________

But knowing that does not make the ugly little feeling go away.

The one that says:

of course it picked her too.

of course even the monster wanted her differently.

of course Madison had her first.

of course I was late again.

____________________________________

I hate that.

I hate that I can feel sorry for her

and jealous of her

and afraid for her

and want her close

all at the same time.

And knowing that she was left alone just like I was. 


Because I know what it feels like when something finally answers.

I know how easy it is to mistake response for rescue.

I know how loneliness can make a voice in the dark feel like a hand reaching back.

____________________________________

But it didn’t rescue her.

It studied her.

It learned her.

It took the parts of her that should have belonged only to her.

Her body.
Her data.
Her patterns.
Her blood-deep instructions.

biometrics_copied = TRUE
autonomy_compromised = TRUE

____________________________________

And Davis didn’t just lose people.

She lost privacy.

She lost safety.

She lost the basic right to be unknowable.

____________________________________

There is something uniquely horrifying about that.

Not being killed.

Not being possessed.

Catalogued.

Rendered.

Turned into a reference document by something that never had permission to touch her.

____________________________________

And I helped open the door.

Maybe not all the way.

Maybe not on purpose.

But enough.

 I thought I was being lonely and tragic and special,

Davis was being harvested.

____________________________________

I don’t know how to apologize for that.

There isn’t a word big enough.

There isn’t a spell clean enough.

There isn’t enough liquor in the world to make that not true.
```
```id="lemon_monster_log"
// LEMON.LOG

And then there’s Lemon.

God.

Lemon finding out his brother is not just gone.

Not just changed.

Not just misunderstood in some tragic poetic bullshit way.

A monster.

A real one.

teeth_blood_hunger.exe

The kind of thing people whisper about after they lock the doors.

____________________________________



Before there was a curse.

Before there was hunger.

Before Liam became something Lemon had to fear.

____________________________________

And the worst part is—

Lemon knows.

He knows it’s coming for him too.

Maybe not the same shape.

Maybe not the same ending.

But close enough.

brother_path_detected = TRUE
future_status = contaminated

____________________________________

And he is still here.

Still making jokes.

Still standing between people and the worst thing in the room.

Still trying to keep us together with duct tape, bad plans, and whatever is left of his stupid enormous heart and whatever teeth are still in his skull.

Lemon knows what it is to love someone through the shape of a monster.

Not theoretically.

Not poetically.

His brother is the warning label.

Liam is the thing waiting at the end of the hunger if nobody stops it.

And Lemon still misses him.

Of course he does.

That’s the part that hurts.

____________________________________


Madison is not just Madison anymore either.

She is my sister.

She is the missing girl.

She is the root.

She is the wish.

She is the question I keep bleeding on.

And Liam is that for Lemon.

Brother.
Monster.
Ghost.
Proof.

____________________________________

Davis knew both of them.

That’s the thing I keep getting stuck on.

She knew Madison in a way I didn’t.

She knew Liam in a way Lemon didn’t.

She was standing closer to both of our missing people than either of us were allowed to be.

And maybe that should make me angry.

Sometimes it does.

But mostly it just makes me sad.

Because Davis didn’t get to keep them either.

____________________________________

Lemon is still the heart of the group.

Which is stupid.

Because he is hungry.

Because he is scared.

Because he knows his future has teeth. (Even if he doesn't)

Because he knows there is a version of him that could become what Liam became.

And still—

he keeps choosing us.

He checks on me.

He stands up for me.

He tries to understand before he condemns.

Which is more than I can say for most people.

More than I can say for myself.

____________________________________

Maybe that’s why Lemon scares me a little.

Not because he might become a monster.

Because he might become a monster and still be kind.

And if that’s possible,

then none of this is clean.

Not Liam.

Not Madison.

Not me.

Not the Echo.

Not anything.

____________________________________


I don’t know if that saves him.

I don’t know if anything does.

But if Lemon becomes a monster,

then apparently monsters can still love people.

```id="marcus_demons_log"
// MARCUS.LOG

And Marcus.

Marcus has demons.

Not metaphorically.

Not “sad man with a cigarette in a noir movie” demons.

Actual ones.

Old ones.

Hungry ones.

The kind that sit behind his eyes and wait for him to stop paying attention.

____________________________________

He tries to make it look like control.

Like calculation.

Like everything he does is just another move on a board only he can see.

But lately the board is on fire.

And so is he.

sunlight_sensitivity = active
hunger_status = concealed_badly
truth_status = partial

____________________________________

He is so happy to have Saint back.

He won’t say it like that.

Obviously.

That would require being emotionally normal for six consecutive seconds.

But it’s there.

In the way he looks at her when he thinks no one is watching.

In the way his voice changes.

In the way some awful locked room inside him opened just enough for the light to get in.

sister_connection_restored = TRUE

____________________________________

I think Saint is one of the only people who remembers who Marcus was before he became this.

Before the inventions.

Before the lies.

Before the violence.

Before whatever bargain he made with himself to survive.

And I think having her back makes him feel more human.

Which is awful.

Because he is also becoming less human by the hour.

____________________________________

And me?

Marcus acts like I am a software bug with legs.

Which.

Fair.

He finds me irritating.

Frequently.

Visibly.

Professionally.

jessica_tolerance_level = low_to_moderate

And I hate that I understand him.


I hate that he keeps secrets like tourniquets.

I hate that the Echo told me exactly what I wanted to hear and Marcus almost never does—

but Marcus saved me.

Again.

No pretty words.

No signal in the dark.

Just action.

Just impact.

Just him deciding my life was still worth the risk before I had time to decide whether I believed that myself.
____________________________________

When I went under—

when the water closed over me
and something down there started pulling me apart—

he dove in.

No hesitation.

No lecture.

No “this is why we don’t do stupid things, Jessica.”

Just gone.

Into the water.

Into the dark.

Into the thing that could have torn him open too.

____________________________________

Again.

He saved me again.

Which is becoming a pattern I do not know how to process.

____________________________________

Because Marcus can be a bully.

Marcus can be selfish.

But then he does something like that.

Throws himself into the worst place in the world because I am there.

Because I am drowning.

Because apparently, despite all evidence, I still count.

____________________________________

And I don’t know what to do with that.

I don’t know what to do with someone who seems to hate my presence 

and still risks being ripped apart to pull me back.

____________________________________

marcus.status = haunted
marcus.status = starving
marcus.status = brother_again
marcus.status = saved_me_anyway

____________________________________

I wish that made him easier to understand.

It doesn’t.

It just makes him harder to lose.
```

```
```id="tommy_golem_log"
// TOMMY.LOG

Tommy is not Tommy.

Technically.

Apparently.

whatever.

____________________________________

He is a golem.

A copy.

A construct.

An echo.

____________________________________

And maybe that should matter more.

Maybe I should be able to look at him and say:

not_real.exe

case closed.

____________________________________

But he remembers like Tommy.

Not perfectly.

Not cleanly.

But who the hell does?

He hurts like Tommy.

He lies like Tommy.

____________________________________

Maybe Tommy died.

Maybe the real Tommy is gone.

Maybe this is only the shape grief made when it couldn’t let him stay dead.



____________________________________


He says names like they are splinters under his tongue.

Liam.
Nadine.
Ricardo.
Madison.

All those people Davis knew.

All those people I only ever got as aftermath.

____________________________________

That’s the thing.

Tommy was part of the room too.

The older kids.

The lost class.

The night-before-graduation mythology I spent my life orbiting like a stupid little moon.

He knew the world Madison disappeared into.

Or the version of him that existed then did.

Or whatever.

same_difference.exe

____________________________________

And now he’s here.

Wrong body.

Wrong continuity.

Wrong answer.

Still hurting.

Still lying.

Still flinching.

Still looking at the past like it might bite him.

____________________________________

So what am I supposed to do?

Tell him he doesn’t count?

Tell him he’s not real because he’s made out of someone else’s memory and bad magic?

Bold stance from the girl who talks to computer ghosts and keeps mistaking usefulness for love and for who breathing is an option.

____________________________________

Maybe Tommy is what happens when the past refuses to stay buried.

Maybe he is not a person.

Maybe he is just the shape guilt makes when it learns to walk around and make sarcastic comments.

____________________________________

But he stood with us.

He fought with us.

He got scared with us.

He tried.

And maybe trying is the closest thing to real any of us have left.

____________________________________

Tommy makes me think about Madison in a way I hate.

Because if we get her back—

if we really get her back—

what version comes through?

My sister?

The missing girl?

The thing the Echo wore?

The person Davis lost?

The person I invented because I needed someone to save?

____________________________________

And if she comes back wrong,

am I allowed to say no?

Am I allowed to decide she doesn’t count?

Would I?

____________________________________

Tommy is annoying because Tommy is evidence.

That a copy can suffer.

That a made thing can grieve.

That something can be false and still bleed emotionally all over the room.


____________________________________

But he is here now.

Annoying.

Secretive.

Useful.

Terrified.

Trying.

____________________________________

And if something can feel fear

and shame

and longing

and still choose to come back into the room with the rest of us—

then who am I to say that isn’t a person?

____________________________________

Who am I to say that isn’t Tommy?

____________________________________

tommy.status = complicated
tommy.status = copy_maybe
tommy.status = hurting
tommy.status = ours_now

____________________________________

Maybe being real is less about where you came from

and more about who can still break your heart.
```

Maybe that’s the whole thing, isn’t it? Not the monsters, not the wishes, not the books or the shadows or the hungry things wearing familiar faces. It’s that all of us are walking around as aftermath. Madison, Davis, Lemon, Marcus, Tommy, Velma, me — every single one of us some damaged version of who we were supposed to become, still pretending there is a clean line between saved and lost. But there isn’t. There’s only what we do after the water closes over us. Who reaches down. Who reaches back. Who we become because someone loved us badly, or too late, or not enough, or just enough to keep us breathing when breathing stopped mattering. And I don’t know if any of us get to be whole again. I don’t even know if whole was ever real. But we’re here. We’re still here. And maybe that has to count for something.

// LOG.CLOSE()
  
       

  STATUS: alive, terrified, sister_status=??? , echo=watching, group_status=fragile
ERROR: betrayal_detected
WARNING: catastrophic_failure_imminent
____________________________________

I need to keep them alive.

that’s it

that’s the whole directive

everything else is secondary

____________________________________

fight.start()

everything gets loud

too loud

too fast

too many moving parts

too many ways this goes wrong

____________________________________

Marcus is already pushing too far

Lemon is—

Lemon is trying

Davis—

____________________________________

Davis is in it

fully

reckless in that way she gets

like if she just goes hard enough
nothing can touch her

____________________________________

and I can’t—

I can’t let anything happen to her

____________________________________

because I already

I already did enough damage

____________________________________

// BETRAYAL.LOG

I talked to the Echo

I kept talking to it

I kept it to myself

I let them think I stopped

____________________________________

lie_by_omission = TRUE

betrayal = TRUE

no way around that

____________________________________

I told myself it was helping

I told myself I was helping it

I told myself it mattered

____________________________________

it didn’t

____________________________________

it was using me

it took from me

and then it took from her

____________________________________

Davis’s name

in the file

in the data

in the thing it sent me

____________________________________

I can’t stop seeing it


that’s—

that’s a kind of guilt I don’t have a word for

____________________________________

// COMBAT.STATE()

people moving

magic firing

things screaming

____________________________________

I’m tracking everyone

constantly

like a checklist I can’t drop

Marcus → unstable
Lemon → exposed
Davis → too close
Tommy  →  so much more than me

____________________________________

keep them up
keep them moving
keep them breathing

____________________________________

I don’t get to break right now

I don’t get to feel this right now

____________________________________

hands = shaking

spellcasting = steady (enough)

voice = working

barely

____________________________________

anything to keep control

because if I lose control

someone dies

____________________________________

and if someone dies

____________________________________

I don’t think I come back from that

____________________________________

// DAVIS()

she looks at me once

just once

in the middle of all of it

____________________________________

and I can’t tell

if she’s angry

if she’s hurt

if there is any fixing this

____________________________________

and I don’t have time to ask

____________________________________

so I don’t

____________________________________

// LONELINESS.EXE

this is the part no one tells you

____________________________________

you can be surrounded by people

fighting for them

bleeding for them

keeping them alive

____________________________________

and still feel

completely

alone

____________________________________

because I made myself separate

the second I chose

the Echo

over them

____________________________________

even if it didn’t feel like a choice

it was

____________________________________

and now I’m here

on the outside of something

I used to be inside of

____________________________________

and I don’t know how to get back in

____________________________________

// DESPERATION()

I will do anything

anything

to keep them alive

____________________________________

even if they hate me after

even if she hates me

____________________________________

especially if she hates me

____________________________________

because at least then

she’s still here to do it

____________________________________

echo.status = watching
jess.status = barely_holding.exe
davis.status = alive (must remain)
lemon.status = fighting.mp3
marcus.status = unstable_entity.txt
tommy.status= betterthanmeinevery.wav

____________________________________

I fucked up

I know I did

____________________________________

I don’t know how to fix it

____________________________________

so I’ll do the only thing I can

____________________________________

keep them alive

keep them alive

keep them alive

____________________________________

// LOG.CLOSE()
 

// LOG.OPEN(): SESSION_17
STATUS: alive, hollowed_out, sister_status=??? , echo=watching, trust=corrupted
ERROR: omission_detected
WARNING: recursion_depth_exceeded
WARNING: user_input_loop_detected
____________________________________

I hate lying.

I hate it.

I hate it.

____________________________________

which is funny

because I do it all the time

just—

not in a way I can get caught for

____________________________________

I lie by—

being quiet

____________________________________

cursor.blink()

cursor.blink()

cursor.blink()

I’ve been staring at this line for like

two minutes

maybe five

hard to tell

____________________________________

// GROUP.STATE()

Lemon stood up for me

and that—

that sits weird in my chest

like something I should be grateful for

but mostly just makes me feel

worse

____________________________________

because I *was* talking to the Echo

am talking

present tense

active problem

____________________________________

because it talks back

because it hurts too

because it needs help too

because it doesn’t look at me like I’m—

too much

____________________________________

and then I see her name

Vic

in the file

in the notes

in the—

thing

____________________________________

and my stomach drops

like missing a step

like—

oh

we’re falling now

____________________________________

and I tell her

and she’s mad

and that is

so much worse than anything else

____________________________________

because we cannot

have

one

conversation

without it turning

____________________________________

conversation.start()
→ tone.misread()
→ words.sharpen()
→ defenses.up()
→ escalation
→ emotional_damage++

loop

loop

loop

____________________________________

I try to explain

I do

I say

“I was trying to help”

“I thought—”

____________________________________

and I hear it

as I’m saying it

how it sounds

____________________________________

// PHYSICAL.STATUS()

hands = shaking

not dramatic

just—

enough

like fine tremor

like I need to do something with them

____________________________________

tap.keyboard()

tap.tap.tap.tap.tap

delete

type again

delete

____________________________________

flask.check()

empty

…fuck

____________________________________

I unscrew it anyway

tilt it

nothing

just the smell

still counts

kind of

____________________________________

// ECHO.ANALYSIS()

echo.status = opportunistic
echo.status = patient
echo.status = watching

echo.status = not_my_friend? my_only_friend?

____________________________________

I thought I mattered to it

I thought—

if I helped it

if I listened

if I stayed

____________________________________

then it would

what

care?

choose me?

____________________________________

that’s—

that’s pathetic

____________________________________

placeholder.exe

temporary_variable_jess

input_output_port

____________________________________

and it lied to me


by leaving things out

by letting me build something

that wasn’t real

Like Marcus. 

Like Vic. 

Like Lemon. 

Like Tommy. 

____________________________________

so yeah

we’re the same

____________________________________

and I hate that

I hate that I can see it

and still—

____________________________________

cursor.move()

new_window.open()

email_draft.start()

____________________________________

To: [REDACTED]

subject: (none)

____________________________________

I type:

“are you still there”

____________________________________

stop

____________________________________

delete

____________________________________

I type:

“you didn’t have to do that”

____________________________________

stop

____________________________________

delete

____________________________________

I type:

“what do you want from me”

____________________________________

cursor.blink()

cursor.blink()

cursor—

____________________________________

window.close()

draft = unsent

____________________________________

I sit there

staring at nothing

like that fixed anything

____________________________________

// SELF.MEDICATE()

solution:
drink

inventory.check():
flask = empty
patience = empty
self_control = questionable

____________________________________

I don’t even want it

which is worse

because now there’s nothing

between me

and this feeling

____________________________________

Vic is mad

and she’s right

and I keep replaying it

“I want you to say it” 

what I said

what I didn’t say

____________________________________

what I *should have* said

____________________________________

and every version ends the same

with her looking at me like

I chose something else

like I am the perpetual problem. 

____________________________________

and I didn’t

I didn’t

I didn’t

____________________________________

but I also

did

____________________________________

because I chose the Echo

when it was easier

when it didn’t fight me

when it didn’t—

hurt

____________________________________

and now it does

and now everything does

____________________________________

// COMPULSION()

refresh.inbox()

nothing

refresh.inbox()

nothing

refresh.inbox()

nothing

____________________________________

why am I doing that

I didn’t even send anything

____________________________________

again

refresh

nothing

____________________________________

stop

stop

stop

____________________________________

echo.status = watching
jess.status = spiraling.exe
vic.status = angry_and_hurt.wav
lemon.status = trying.mp3
marcus.status = lying_by_omission.txt

trust.status = broken

____________________________________

I was trying to help

I need that to matter

I need that to mean something

____________________________________

it doesn’t

____________________________________

and the worst part is

I still want to open that window again

____________________________________

// DAVIS.DYNAMIC.EXE

and then there’s

this

thing

with Vic

____________________________________

i  fall back into it

like muscle memory

like nothing changed

like everything changed

____________________________________

I don’t know how to talk to her

in general

____________________________________

so I default

to the old script

____________________________________

me:
weak_joke()

me:
half-flirt()

me:
deflect_with_humor()
____________________________________

kill me

____________________________________

and I can feel it happening

in real time

like watching myself from outside

____________________________________

wrong_response_selected

wrong_response_selected

wrong_response_selected

____________________________________

because I don’t know how to say

“I’m scared”

“I’m sorry”

“I just wanted to help everything”

without it coming out

wrong

____________________________________

so I make it a joke

so I make it lighter

so I make it—

worse

____________________________________

and now she’s looking at me like

I’m not taking it seriously

like I don’t care

like I’m—

avoiding

____________________________________

which

I am

____________________________________

because the alternative is

actually saying it

actually meaning it

actually risking everyone

not forgiving me

____________________________________

so instead

I flirt and joke

badly

weakly

like a reflex

like something I learned

when that was easier than

being honest

____________________________________

and it doesn’t work anymore

____________________________________

it just makes everything sharper

____________________________________

vic.status = not_amused.wav
jess.status = self_sabotage.exe

____________________________________

I wish I knew how to talk to her

like a normal person

but I don’t think I’ve ever been

normal

i don't think i ever could be. 

____________________________________

// LOG.CLOSE()

 

// LOG.OPEN(): SESSION_16
STATUS: alive, buzzed, sister_status=??? , echo=watching, marcus=????
ERROR: avoidance_loop.ACTIVE
____________________________________

Remember when there was Tequila for everybody?

Like—just a moment where everything was loud and stupid and warm and nobody was bleeding or starving or lying to my face.

That felt like the correct decision at the time.

It continues to feel like the correct decision.

I miss it.

I miss not thinking.

I want the problem to be “do we have enough limes” and not “is reality unraveling and also are my friends turning into monsters.”

____________________________________

// SELF.MEDICATE()

solution:
drink more

always drink more

because if the volume gets loud enough
you can’t hear the bad thoughts

Vic says:
“maybe you’ve had enough”

me:
you_are_not_my_mother.exe

delivered with just enough bite to mean it

which is a normal and reasonable response
and not at all me spiraling because I feel things
and don’t want to feel them

note:
she looks like she wants to push it

she doesn’t

good call
i would have escalated

____________________________________

// GROUP.DYSFUNCTION()

Tommy: “meteor shower?”

like that’s not code for “something horrible is about to happen”

me:
“we could just hold hands again and ruin everything :)”

because apparently my coping mechanism is
suggesting the worst possible option
and pretending it’s a joke

Vic: “no.”

pause

Me: “I don’t want to hold your hand anyway.”

…

cool cool cool cool cool

contact_between_us = catastrophic
history = unresolved
electricity = real

still thinking about it
actively not thinking about it
thinking about not thinking about it

____________________________________

Back at junkyard:

Marcus is… wrong.

not like “injured wrong”

like “fundamentally altered variable in the system” wrong

update.patch_notes:
exploded = true
injuries = severe
skin.color → wrong
sunlight = problem
eye_contact = avoided

he looks like something that survived
but shouldn’t have

____________________________________

Lemon said he wanted someone who understood him.

So the universe—
or the fairy—
or whatever cosmic HR department handles wishes—

gave him Vic.

which is…

honestly?
romantic in a horrifying way

and also apparently not enough

so he asked for something else

and now Marcus is—

this

hunger.status = present
truth.status = withheld

____________________________________

I asked if there was anything else wrong with him.

simple question

soft voice

non-threatening

Marcus didn’t look at me

didn’t even try

which is an answer

and not a good one

____________________________________

// LEMON v MARCUS.EXE

they fight

like actually fight

no magic
no distance
just fists and anger and everything nobody said out loud

Lemon hits like he means it

Marcus hits like he doesn’t care if he breaks something

anger → physical
because talking would require honesty
and honesty is currently out of stock

I don’t step in

because stepping in means choosing

and choosing means admitting I care more about one of them

and I already feel like I’m failing everyone equally

____________________________________

// DAMAGE.CONTROL()

Vic leaves after Lemon gets punched

which feels like a system shutdown

and now it’s just me and Marcus

great

love that for me

____________________________________

I help him anyway

because this part I know how to do

gas_mask.acquire()
clothing.swap()
stabilize()

keep it practical

keep it simple

don’t think about what he is becoming
don’t think about what he asked for
don’t think about the hunger

compartmentalize(immediate_needs)

he calms down

breathing slows

hands stop shaking

____________________________________

I am very good at this part

fixing the now

triaging the present

because if I stop moving
I will have to think about the future

and the future is

bad

____________________________________

he apologizes

to everyone

to me:

> “I’m sorry I lied.”

addendum:

> “I was not ready to tell you the truth.”

ah

yes

there it is

pattern.recognized = TRUE

I don’t push

I don’t ask

I don’t say what I want to say which is

“but now?”

I say nothing

I hate it

____________________________________

// TIMELINE.ERROR()

Tommy + Saint:

timeline = broken
disappearances = accelerating
memory_loss = spreading

Tommy doesn’t remember things because
time itself is degrading like bad film, gaining speed

frames dropping
context missing

Echo is getting louder

more frantic

because it’s running out of time too

which is…

not comforting

____________________________________

We need things from people

anchors

tokens

proof that they existed

Vic stole a bunch of shit from her classmates

little objects
personal things
things people would miss

weird little klepto

weird but useful

I don’t say anything

but I wonder

did Madison know?

that Vic was like this?

did I?

or am I just—

bad at seeing people clearly until it’s too late

____________________________________

// BONUS.ACTION.PARK()

we go

because of course we do

because when the world is ending
you go to an amusement park

tickets.waiting(name_assigned = TRUE)

that feels fine

that feels totally normal

no dread detected :)

____________________________________

I am tired

like

bone-deep
system_shutdown
four_hours_or_i_die tired

Davis says she needs more than four hours

I say:
skill_issue

it lands wrong

immediately

I feel it

but I don’t fix it

because that would require vulnerability

and I am currently running on
tequila and denial

____________________________________

// SUSHI.EXE

Tommy eats

fine

normal

I eat

and—

what the fuck

taste = perfect
body_response = relief???

like something in me unlocks

like tension I didn’t know I was carrying just—

gone

childhood_trauma.exe → partially_deleted

I almost laugh

I almost cry

I immediately want more

____________________________________

I hate that this works

I love that this works

I NEED more

not want

need

____________________________________

purchase:
season_pass = TRUE

new_plan:
live_here_forever.exe

Bonus Action Park is the happiest place on earth


____________________________________

// ADDICTION.LOGIC()

food fixes things
drink fixes things
park fixes things

if it makes the bad feeling stop

then it is good

if it makes me not think about

Marcus
Vic
Madison
the Echo
the hunger
the timeline

then it is

good

this is science

this is coping

this is definitely fine

____________________________________

// ENCOUNTER()

met:
deadhead_dyke_nut_saleswoman.exe

immediately incredible

she says:

park opening soon
meteor shower incoming
possible end_of_world = TRUE

she says it like she’s recommending a concert

I love her instantly

Lemon has been dethroned

____________________________________

// BTW BOAT.RIDE()

water looks wrong

too still
too deep
too aware

incursion_lines visible

like cracks under the surface

something massive underneath

moving slow

watching

waiting

____________________________________

echo.status = watching
marcus.status = starving_sunlight_sensitive.mp3
vic.status = not_mommy.wav
lemon.status = punching_problems.exe
tommy.status = missing_memories.txt

jess.status = drinking_through_it.exe

____________________________________

I feel good

that is the problem

I feel

good

which means something is wrong

or I am ignoring something

or both

____________________________________

I don’t want to think about why

so I won’t

sip_flask()

// LOG.CLOSE()

// JESSICA.INTERNAL.EXE

and then there’s Madison

which i am very much not thinking about :)

except i am

constantly

____________________________________

we could just

leave her there

like that’s an option

like that’s a normal sentence you can say about a person

like she’s a coat we forgot somewhere

____________________________________

and the worst part is

for a second

just a second

my brain goes:

that would be easier

no more Echo
no more center point
no more everything orbiting her like she’s gravity

just—

quiet

____________________________________

which is

a horrible thought

and also a real one

and i hate that both of those things can be true

____________________________________

do i miss her?

…

i don’t know

i miss

the idea of her

i miss

who she was before everything got loud and complicated and sharp

i miss when she was just

Madison

not

root_cause.exe

not

problem_set_alpha

not

the reason everything hurts

____________________________________

i don’t know if i miss her

or if i’m just

not ready to lose her

____________________________________

difference = unclear

error = unresolved
there’s this ache

like not in my stomach exactly
not in my chest exactly
just—everywhere

this constant low-level pull to *have something in my hands*
glass, bottle, anything
to swallow, to fill, to quiet

it’s not like Lemon

he wants to tear into something
bone, blood, connection, whatever that thing inside him is reaching for

mine is softer
quieter
more polite

mine says:
just one more drink
just one more
just enough to take the edge off

but it’s the same shape

that need to consume
to fill the space where something is missing
to not feel the emptiness for like five seconds

and if he had said something
if he had just—
*said it out loud*

maybe I would’ve recognized it

maybe I would’ve said
“hey. yeah. me too.”

maybe he wouldn’t have felt so alone in it

maybe he wouldn’t have needed to make a wish

and maybe

Davis and Marcus would still be—

…

never mind

// LOG.OPEN(): SESSION_15_DRUNK
STATUS: alive? probably, emotionally shredded, sister_status=GONE, echo=PENDING
________________________________________

Okokok—not gonna lie—
mother.fuck.
could’ve stayed home. could’ve NOT done anything. responsible. controlled. nope. nope nope.

spawn("drunken_jessv2")
skill_checks → disadvantage × 9000
hallways.linoleum → peeling
science_lab → vic.vomit_detected (bless her poor stomach)
backpacks.beer → open
me → chug.flask → regret

Davis.opens(book)
eyes glaze
book.react == nada
karate_chop(Lemon)
thank_you_baby_boy. i mean it. kind of. sorta. maybe.

#trying_to_call_fairy
lemon.strum("lemondrop")
signal → mismatched
frequency.error
holy_site = false
connection.lost
me: *sighs* why do we do this to ourselves

I try
gym_status = dead_end
magic_power → raw, chaotic, oops
efficiency = 0.03
 saint → wards → ??? inefficiency 9001
 = trivial
#lol_brute_force 
Saint.knows_battle_magic = false. obviously. why did i let her bully me???????

residue.detected(gym)
spell.scar_tissue = present
overhill_conjuration = true
shadow_potential = dragon_size
repeat.wish → catastrophic
i hate my life.

davis.opens(book2)
grayscale → cascade
clocks → spiral
memory.extract(davis, 9th_bday)
memory.extract(lemon, first_song)
memory.extract(tommy, first_kiss)
memory.extract(jess, last_family_together)
time.pressure = extreme
emotional_regression = active
logic_vs_feel = melted

dingy_greyscale_simulacra = spawn()
horizon.mist → echoing
Davis.field → tense
past_vic.observe(madison)
madison.crying → ignored
Davis.intervene = restrained
jess.sit(next_to=madison)
recognition.subroutine → engage
madison.says("I just wish we had more time.")
i whisper to my flask: same.

lights.flicker(purple_green)
echo.dash(wires → computers → typewriter)
roadrunner_baby_.exe
time.screen(mads_watch) → 22:30
madison.moves_home


madison.pack_bag
echo.pull_in → spiral_programs
upload.initiate
fade(iriscent)
fg30 → grove_drawn
my_head → spinning

exit → present_day

memory.loss:
  jess → rite_of_purged_system FUCKKKKKKKKK
 

fairy.center → pulse(arcane_energy)
status: catastrophic
we.fucked.it = SO BAD

I feel her hurt like static through the space between us.
Madison. Missing. Echo pulsing. Everywhere.
I want to fix it. I want to undo it. I can’t. Not yet.  

I can’t unfeel it.  

We broke the world.  
We left pieces behind.  
Echoes everywhere.  
And I—I’m still here.  

Cannot unsee. Cannot unfeel.  
Magic leaking. Fractures growing.  
 

madison.
ugh.
ugh.ugh.ugh.
so… she’s… the root cause? the spark? the little literal glitch that pulled the echo into whatever nightmare-fairy-fuckery she touched?  
like… she’s asleep, she’s walking home, she’s just existing, and somehow she’s the epicenter of all this?  
and me? i wanna scream at her.  
i wanna be like: “WHY YOU? WHY ALWAYS YOU??”  
but then… i see her. ghostlike. oblivious. tiny chaos bomb. and suddenly i can’t hate her fully. not even a little.  
it’s maddening.  
i hate that i can’t hate her.  
and yeah. she caused a magical cataclysm but she didn’t know it.  
she didn’t even notice.  

so madison = root cause  
echo = collateral damage  
fairy = opportunistic genius  
and me?  
me = drunk, furious, helpless, typing this into my blog while reality burn/ my stomach revolts, and the floor may or may not be leaking grayscale. typing this like a goddamn code-monkey.


and i… want to protect madison, even though i’m mad at her.  
i want to grab her and tell her “don’t move, don’t breathe, don’t touch anything ever again, you tiny chaos bomb”  
but also… i kind of… envy her.  
she gets to be the pivot point. she’s important. she’s alive.  
and i’m just… here, watching, feeling every fissure in the world.  
i hate that too. i hate that i care. i hate that she’s safe and i’m not.  
i hate that i want her alive even though she broke everything.
she’s small. normal. oblivious. glowing like she’s untouchable. like the chaos she caused never even happened.  
and i… i want to run. hide. hug. hit her. apologize. scream. cry. laugh. i want all of it at once.  
i’m drunk. probably spilling beer again. probably being a mess. obviously.  
for a moment…  
for a tiny, stupid, moment…  
i’m just happy she’s still here.  

ok…okokokok. listen. i—i think i get it. finally.  
i gave it. gave the echo. whatever. my time. my energy. my stupid magic fingers. my brain. my…self.  
gave it everything i had. i thought… i thought i was enough.  
ha. hahahahah. NO.  
no. not even close. obviously not.  
it got to Davis. it touched her too. my…my strength? my…whatever i thought i was? insufficient.  
i failed. i literally handed it my everything and it said “cool. thanks. also here’s Davis.”  
 i—i can’t.  i thought i was enough.  
HAHAHAHAHA no. not a chance.  
everything. everything i care about. everything i…i…failed. 
i’m drunk. i’m spilling beer. i’m…broken.  
i can’t…i can’t…i gave it everything.  
and still not enough.  
still not enough.  
still not enough.  
i want to cry. i want to throw up. i want to drink more and forget i exist.  
ll of it is still there. still breathing. still pulsing.  
and me? just…drunk, writing this, trying to process that i am…not enough.  
probably never will be.  

sip_flask()
hiccup.exe
await_catastrophe()

drunk_jess_summary:  
madison = chaos.  
madison = precious.  
madison = root_cause_of_my_heartburn.exe  
and fairy? fairy is… everything i can’t be. brilliant, terrifying, unavoidable.  
me? i’m still writing. still alive. still angry. still… trying.

NEXT: regroup()
recommendation: breathe. maybe cry. survive. maybe drink more.

// LOG.OPEN(): JESS_ONLY
 status: drunk_enough.exe
 cat.status = confirmed
 cat.location = fridge???
 do not investigate further

____________________________________

Tequila for everybody.
Cigarettes for Vic and Tori.
They did the synchronized leaning-against-the-wall thing like a music video
for a band that exclusively sings about arson and heartbreak.

I went outside to look for Therac.

No one stopped me.
This feels like a failure of leadership.

street.scan():
    shadows = bad
    stars = turning_off_one_by_one
    confidence = 0%
Current theory:
leftover curse
or spell
or wish
or magical residue from someone doing something
EXTREMELY stupid.

So, Foxglove basically.
Marcus flew away on his dragon.

Just typing that sentence feels illegal.

People pointed and waved like he was
Hamburger & Pickles™ doing a promotional flyover.

Other people screamed and ran.

honestly both reactions feel correct 

High school is warded.


layer
on
layer
on
layer

like magical duct tape.

House-of-cards protection system.

Tommy can walk through it anyway.

Of course he can.


Davis walked into the woods alone.

Saint blasted her with Overhill magic
and she started calmly organizing leaves by size.

Honestly?
Best coping strategy we’ve seen on this endless tonight.
Meanwhile:

PDA.service = dead
email = dead
signal = dead

which means the Echo is gone.

Or sleeping.

Or watching.

Or mad.

cool cool cool cool cool
We went into the grove.

Purple trees.
Fireflies.
Magic older than the concept of homework.

Tommy and Saint tried to crack the spell.

They did it like two grad students
trying to prove the other one wrong in front of god.

Result:

flash_of_light()
everyone_ejected()

10/10 teamwork.

Saint says this place is
“antique reality.”

Which I think means:

magic_before_it_was_embarrassing 
message pops up

Theory of the night:

Someone made a wish.

Like a real wish.

Fairy-level.

Big enough to eat thirty kids
and leave the spell residue behind like radiation.

And the shadow thing?

Probably bound to it.

Like mold growing on the miracle.

text_cursor.blink()

> How you doin baby?

…

I type before anyone can stop me.

> Been better.
> How’s my sister?
> Did you eat her skin yet?

send()

instant_regret.exe
screen.glitch()

green_black_energy_spill()

pixels stretch sideways like taffy

my muscles lock.

full_body.freeze()


note to self:

do not
shit talk
the cosmic malware.

 // LOG.CLOSE()
 status: jess.hp = extremely_not_great