Trapped in the Sims (complete)

Part 18

Hannah bursts through her bedroom door, dropping her ballet bag on the floor by her wardrobe, not bothering to sort it out just yet. She had found herself oddly craving her favourite game all day, and had tried to get out of ballet early again so she would have a good amount of time on Sims tonight. This isn't really a new occurrence, she's been doing this since they were young, trying to get out of things so they can meet and laugh and run upstairs to play on the game together.

No. Hannah pulls both curtains across the window briefly as she pulls off her ballet leggings, changing them to more comfortable jeans and pulling on a jumper to keep warm. That's not right. She always used to play on Sims with somebody, that much is obvious from her memories of ' they'. But something's blurred in her mind, somehow.

She can't picture the person she used to play Sims with.

Ah well. It was probably a long time ago, anyways, and she can't be expected to remember every person's name that she used to know.

The only trouble is that the memory doesn't feel distant. It feels recent, familiar somehow. Like there's something very important she's let herself forget. It's more than just a vivid childhood memory, it's - now, almost.

The sight of the Sims case, a welcoming sight resting on her desk, restores her certainty. It doesn't matter. She can try and delve into childhood memories later. It's time for some Sims 3 action. 

She slots the disc into her computer and patiently waits for it to load, deciding to check her emails while it's coming up. There's still - something in the back of her mind, shouting at her, but she ignores it. Something's still not right here.

She just can't for the life of her think what.

What is she missing?

"Stupid computer," mutters Hannah under her breath a moment later as she stares at the email that has just arrived in her inbox. It's from an unknown sender, which is generally a warning sign in itself, but Hannah opens it anyway, reasoning that if it is a virus she'll at least know. The email content is mainly composed of long, random lines of code that she can't decipher, stretching down across the page off the screen. The only word that is recognisable is her own name right at the start, which is a bit creepy, but Hannah dismisses it as just a glitch. Anyway, if someone was trying to send her an intelligible email, which she doubts, she's sure they'll realise and try to amend whatever their mistake had been.

"Delete..." she murmurs, clicking on the button. The email vanishes from her screen, the lines of garbled computer code thankfully disappearing with it. Not a virus, then. Or not a particularly bad one, at any rate.

Right. Enough of creepy emails filled with code, and annoying hovering memories that she can't quite grasp. Now for some Sims.