Lovers: Boarding School

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Have all y'all died yet? I promise you, after this chapter you will >:DDDDDD

Enjoy!

"Dammit!"

Viola slammed the backs of her fists onto her gaming desk, a million regrets and a million more concerns crashing down on her like a devastating wave of snow burying everything in its desolate path. For hours, she tried to restart her killed gaming system, fiddling with computer wires and motherboards, dismantling and reassembling her CPU--even spending the rest of her abysmal savings on a new gaming monitor and IMG visor in a last ditch effort to resurrect the game and save the innocent VCCU officer who had thrown away his life to protect her sad, squandered one.

But it was no use. 

The gaming system that had the homicidal "fetish sim" installed would not start up despite all her efforts. 

Frustrated more than she'd ever been, Viola screamed at the blank, black screen of her monitor again, her eyes still streaming rivers that flowed continuously since Gale treacherously told her "It was too late" for him. That he was going to take her place as the "victim" in a long line of victims this evil game had claimed like the beatific capture targets she'd "conquered", ruined, and betrayed in succession. 

Gale was going to die for her. 

Die for her mistakes that she'd initiated, she'd continued, she'd done--and didn't have to pay for. 

Viola curled up on her chair, waiting, like she'd done hours after she'd been launched back into RL, for the VCCU to contact her back after she'd broke unofficial protocol and sent message after message to their Tokyo headquarters about one possibly dead or extremely endangered employee of theirs. 

She waited for a ding followed by a message explaining that their agent had somehow escaped the game unscathed--because he was so much more clever and resourceful than her--and that he was lounging around headquarters giggling over how much of an over dramatic schmuck she was at his hysterically convincing acting. 

Maybe he was on his lunch break right now, slurping up some ramen and trading trolling stories with his co-workers because the VCCU were a bunch of insensitive, tight-lipped pricks who didn't care that a woman, who was being slowly poisoned by her own overwhelming guilt, was waiting on the edges of her sanity for their response--any response--like the survivor of a train crash waiting anxiously outside an emergency room for any news on the fate of their loved one. 

Viola gave the VCCU one more minute to relay the news that Gale and his wisecracking mouth and petulant, higher-than-thou attitude and green tender eyes was safe. She would've been fine if this was all one big joke, that she had been greatly and thoroughly trolled all this time and that the VCCU or whoever was running this whole "shabang" were waiting behind her apartment door this very minute to expose and insult her very character for being so selfish, so impulsive, so dumb to the rest of the world because she deserved to be exposed and insulted and she deserved to be where Gale was probably forever imprisoned and possibly killed. 

Killed. 

Viola held her face in her hands. 

She had killed a man. 

A man, a real life living person, was probably dead as she sat in her comfortable, padded gaming chair in her cozy small apartment away from the gun wielding demons and the toothy, grinning Rotting Men that were probably torturing and killing that man as she did nothing.