Trapped in the Sims (complete)

Part 19

It hasn't worked. I know this, partly because an error message flashed up on the screen almost immediately after I tentatively pressed 'Send' on the email page, then it went blue and lines of complex code began to scroll whirlingly over the laptop screen. Kyle huffs and snatches his precious laptop back from me, staring almost disbelievingly at his apparently broken computer. "I hope whatever you've done worked," he says almost accusingly, experimentally tapping a key. It doesn't seem to have much effect.

"I hope so too," I reply nervously as I get up from the desk and leave the teenage boy's room, although I'm already having my doubts. I'm not sure what I'm actually expecting to happen, but something has to. It has to.

Come on Hannah...

* * * * *

"Okay, I think we need a new plan," I announce as I stride back into Kyle's room an hour or so later.

Kyle groans and turns over from where he's flopped over the side of his bed (an action that I'm fairly sure hasn't been programmed into the Sims) absent-mindedly reading a magazine. "And I care because -?"

"Well you helped me with the last one," I point out.

"Why have I suddenly become your only ally in this crazy plan to stop some kind of distant revenge mission on our family for no discernible reason?" Kyle inquires.

"Well - Mel is still crying and doesn't look like stopping any time soon, your mum is still trying to comfort her, your dad is at work, and I'm not really sure that Matty will be able to help all that much, due to him being seven," I list, throwing a pointed look at him.

"Good to know I was your first choice," mutters the teenage boy grumpily.

"Whatever. Anyway -" I step over to the desk again and swing myself backwards onto the swivel chair, turning to face where Kyle is slumped on his bed. "We need to brainstorm more ideas, since the whole email scheme seems to have failed dismally. This affects you too," I add almost as an afterthought, since Kyle is looking sceptical.

"No kidding. I might be forced to flirt with you again."

"Rude. Anyway - brainstorm," I order. "We're clever Sims. Well, most of us are, anyway. Together we can figure out how to escape this nightmare and get in touch with Hannah."

"Hannah," repeats Kyle, assessing the word against his tongue. I realise that I haven't actually mentioned her name to him before. "Funny. I kind of expected a supreme controlling villain to have a slightly more foreboding name than - Hannah. Dark Lord of All, or Emperor of Extreme Evil, or something."

"You've been reading too many superhero comics," I say critically. "It's - complicated. I told you that."

"No kidding," Kyle repeats, obviously deciding that it's more effort than it's worth to inquire further. "Well - here's an idea for you." He's unexpectedly deciding to help me, for whatever reason.

I change my stance, leaning forward expectantly. Any ideas is good ideas right now. "Shoot."

"Why don't you just go home?" he asks sharply. "You said it yourself. This Hannah is pursuing us because of you. To get to you. That's what you told me. If you left, she'd leave us alone. Right? So just go home."

He must notice the sudden tears that spring into my eyes, because his expression softens and after a moment he rises a couple of inches from his bed and awkwardly lays a hand on my shoulder in some kind of a comforting gesture. "Sorry," he offers gruffly.

"That's why I need to get in touch with her," I say bravely, trying to stop my voice from quavering from the harsh words. Don't cry, Rachel. We don't need any more tears in this house right now. Not helpful. "I think - I think she's my only hope of getting home. Otherwise, I'm trapped here."