Trapped in the Sims (complete)

Part 22

"You actually are my best friend," is the first thing that Hannah breathes, awe and confusion filling her tone.

I frown, though every expression is like forcing my way through thick mud with the plumbob still hovering over my head. I think I've managed to fight off the influence of the plumbob control for a while, but I've no idea how long it'll last before the game realises I'm effectively a Sim again and tries to take my newfound freedom away again. "Uh, yeah."

"But - but - how?!" Hannah stammers. "I forgot you! You're - you're a sim!"

Hannah's replies seem to appear fully formed in my head, though at the same time I can imagine Hannah's typical expression as she speaks haltingly to me. At the same time, the voice is all around me, filling my world and my ears and my head, completely overwhelming and somewhat grating against my eardrums. I try not to wince.

"What's going on?" she finally manages to ask, calming herself down enough to formulate a coherent question.

I chuckle despite myself. "Believe me, if I knew that, that would be really welcome right now," I say to where I assume she's looking at me from.

"You can see me?" the girl inquires, shocked.

"Well, no, but I have a pretty good idea of where you are," I say sheepishly. "Are you actually there, you know - where I'm looking at?"

I hear her giggle, oddly, as if she doesn't quite know why she's laughing. Maybe she's in shock. I know I would be. Though I already am, really. "Right a little," she admits with another little laugh, and I shift my gaze so that I'm looking straight ahead, winking to where Hannah is looking at me. We can always make each other laugh, Hannah and I. Part of the reason that we're best friends is because of that.

"How did this happen?" Hannah asks, her tone half wondering, half disbelieving.

"Well -" I try to search my memories, forcing them to the forefront of my mind. However they seem to hover just out of reach, like before. How did I get into the Sims? The only crystal-clear memories I have are all from after I woke up in the game, finding myself next to the Sunset Valley grocery store. "I can't quite remember," I admit shamefully.

"You can't remember?" Hannah asks sceptically. "I think I'd remember if something happened so that I was sucked into a computer game - which is still theoretically impossible, after all."

"Well, as I stay here longer and longer, my human memories and human self are slipping away," I tell her, scared by my own ominous words. "I'm scared that before too long, the Sims programming will take me fully and make me 100% Sim. And maybe I'll think I am one, too."

This has the intended effect; Hannah gasps somewhat melodramatically. "So I was actually controlling the real you all that time!" she realises. "Not just a sim version of you which I thought you created in the family to annoy me, which I initially thought you had."

"Nope." I nod somewhat sheepishly. "That was me."

"But I made you kiss Kyle!"

The memory of it makes me brush a hand over my lips, the taste in my mouth slightly sour. "Unfortunately, yes," I reply. It's hard not to sound accusing, but it was my planning too that caused the breaking apart of this family, so I guess I can't talk.

"And I made you look like - that." She's obviously gesturing to my altered appearance, and I finger the dress distastefully at her words.

"Gothic sunflower, yeah. Hopefully it won't last."

"I can always change you back -" she offers, already looking around for the nearest dresser, I suspect.

"No!" I quickly intervene, remembering the last dizzying time I was in 'Create a Sim' and not really wanting to repeat the experience. "It's fine," I smile forcedly. "Just concentrate on getting me out of here."

Suddenly, as I'm searching the ceiling, imagining that I'm looking directly into Hannah's hazel eyes, I feel a strong pulling influence on my body. The plumbob is hovering over my head, and I assume Hannah must have tried to make me carry out an action.

"Look, I can stop the game moving me around, but not for long," I quickly explain, fighting the force that strains every part in my body, telling me that I really should consider moving over there. It seems so easy to just give in, to let it carry me, but I have fought for this opportunity to make contact with her so hard and I can't just give up now. "It thinks I'm a Sim."

Luckily, Hannah must hear the strain in my voice, since she cancels my action and the force pulling my limbs goes away. "Sorry," she says apologetically. "I assume being controlled isn't all that great."

"You think?" I sigh, wishing I could sink down on the carpet and relax for a moment, but the game programming keeps me stiffly standing in the middle of the room.

"I will get you out of there, Rachel," Hannah promises fervently. "... Somehow."

"Would you mind please turning off the game while you're looking?" I request. "It's just that - I want to check on a few things first."

"Why?" Hannah immediately wants to know.

"Look, I'll explain everything later, alright? There's a lot to explain. Just - please, Hannah. Find a way to get me out of here." While I try and find a way to help Mel and Kyle and Matty.

I can almost hear the questions brimming from Hannah's lips, but her best friend somehow manages to hold it all in. "Okay," she says, a renewed steely determination in her voice. "I will find a way, Rach'. See you in a bit - hopefully when I figure all this out."

"See you," I echo. "Good luck."

I'm just so glad that I'm not alone in this any more.

Soon enough the awful creaking and groaning sound starts up around me, and I hold both palms over my ears until the blackness rushes to greet me. When I blink again, the green diamond has gone from its malignant hovering position over my head and I can move freely again. Phew. Now to wait for Hannah to return, hopefully with a plan.

When I turn to leave the dining room, patting the easel with a fond hand in gratitude for its services today - I must remember to thank Matty for his good idea - I suddenly stop dead in the middle of the room.

Melissa's eyes are wide as she stares at me from behind the kitchen door, obviously having heard a little too much of my and Hannah's conversation to stay innocent. Her mouth is open in shocked realisation, and when she turns to run away from me, she moves with one hand cupped around her slightly bulging stomach like Sims always do when they're pregnant. Her face is still tear-streaked and her eyes are horrified and red-rimmed as she leaves the kitchen at high speeds.

Oops.