Lost and Found (BEN x FtM reader)

Ch. 4: Screen, Meet Stick.

The storage room was cold enough that I could see my breath, but I pushed forward regardless. My trusty baseball bat had disappeared after I'd seemingly been tugged into my own computer, but I was certain I had another one in storage.

I hoped.

I knew my old computer was in here, too- but using that right now? No thanks. I had my doubts about it working, and it wasn't worth the risk.

Though I failed to find a spare baseball bat, I did manage to find my dad's old hockey stick. I twisted it around in my hands, grimacing as I imagined how mad he would be when he realized I'd used it as a blunt-force weapon. Fuck it.

It was times like this that I wished my dad played golf.

I headed out of storage, slinging the hockey stick over my should as I passed the couch. I paused at the quiet ping of new dialogue from the game, gripping onto the stick just a little tighter. My eyes flicked over to the screen.

"...?"

Skull Kid was staring directly at the screen, his yellow scleras and slit pupils glaring directly into my soul. I shuddered, turning my back on it as I hurried up the stairs to my bedroom.

It was much warmer up here than in the storage room- and the thought of that reminded me that I'd need to get the fire going later. I dismissed it for the moment, raising my dad's hockey stick as I eyed my brand new computer. I almost couldn't bear to do it.

...

Sighing, I swung it down toward the glass just as a message flashed across the screen.

"NO!"

The hockey stick made sweet, sweet contact the second I processed the word, the screen cracking as as Skull Kid's scream played from downstairs. Now I was getting somewhere.

I aimed for the black hole of dead pixels I'd already created as I swung again, and again, and again- the screaming got louder, but I didn't care. As soon as I was done with the screen, I moved onto the webcam, driving the handle of the hockey stick into the lens before beating it with the flat of the head.

Perfect. I doubted whoever was following me could hear or see me through there now. This was a window of opportunity.

I kept my weapon in hand as I headed back downstairs, tensing as I realized it had suddenly fallen a bit too quiet. I glanced to the game screen, squinting as I read the text filling the dialogue box.

"Why do you have to make everything so hard?"

I wondered if that had been all it took- if I'd really managed to get rid of whoever it was that was following me. I lingered for a few moments, but the message didn't change, so I grabbed the flashlight hanging from the mantelpiece and headed toward the front door.

It was time to kick some ass.

~~~

It was definitely not any time to kick ass, and I reflected on that as I walked through the freezing forest. There wasn't a soul in sight. I had, at least, remembered to bring my coat- but that was the only thing I'd done right. I was sure that if I just walked in the same direction long enough, I'd find my way out- but there was no end to the forest in sight.

The tall, thin trees reaching toward the sky obscured all vision, and though it had been hours, the light hadn't changed at all. The cool moonlight still shone upon the leaves above. It was almost as if time had just...

... Stopped moving.

The only sound was the sound of leaves rustling and twigs snapping under my feet, the wind deathly still, despite the chill that felt it was piercing me right down to the bone.

Suddenly, the quiet ping of new dialogue rang out behind me. I paused for a moment, not wanting to believe that I'd failed to escape- not knowing how the goddamn game could possibly be playing right behind me.

I turned around anyway, stepping away from the source of the sound simultaneously.

"Did you have fun?" The dialogue box read, and I couldn't move- I felt trapped, locked in place. How was this possible?

"Did you really think you could get away that easily?"

I grimaced, eyeing the hockey stick in my hands. Was it worth another try? Probably not, but maybe. Running on fear and impulse alone, I swung the stick down toward the dialogue box- only to feel it be caught by something on the other side.

"Come on. Let's try that again."

I gasped in what felt like water as the hockey stick- and I- were abruptly tugged through where the speech bubble had been.

~~~

I woke up soaking wet again, coughing so hard I thought I might vomit, doubled over on the couch. I couldn't remember anything from between my time in the woods and now, and I wasn't sure I wanted to. Either way, a cursory glance around the room told me the hockey stick was now gone as well. Anything I could use to defend myself was being taken away the second I actually used it.

I had to try something else.

The Nintendo 64 wasn't on, and I didn't want to turn it on, either. Twisting my hair in an attempt to pull the water out of it, I headed up to check if, perhaps, my baseball bat had made a sudden return. I climbed the stairs up to my bedroom, despite how weak I felt.

There was no baseball bat in sight. I fell silent, listening to the sound of water dripping from my body onto the floor. My wrists were sore. My ankles were sore. For a moment, that was all I could focus on.

Until I heard the gentle hum of my computer starting up. My head whipped up, and at that moment I realized I was wearing the same clothes I'd woken up soaked in hours before.

"Everything has..."

I glanced around the room, watching my seemingly never-damaged computer automatically open to Cleverbot.

"... started over..."

I wasn't even sure where the text was coming from at this point- It had seemed to be forming around me before I'd passed out, but now it was as if it was getting to me from within my own mind.

I shuddered, tugging my wet shirt off to begin getting changed, my back to my computer.

It was only when I was done and mostly dry that I pulled the keyboard out from under my desk, reluctantly typing a message to the 'bot'. I didn't see any other option at this point. There was nothing else I could do.

Hi. What happened?

Hi. You tried to escape.

It was funny.

I leaned back, repulsed. What was so funny about my panic?

It wasn't funny. Are you going to tell me who you are yet.

Hm. No. I want you to play my game some more today.

But you broke it.

It's fixed now. Go play.

I didn't want to play. I didn't want to play its fucking game, and I didn't want to be here anymore. I didn't know how to communicate that, though- so I sat there, frozen for a few moments before turning away from the monitor.

I'd just have to ignore it. I'd have to find something to do that didn't involve technology- surely that couldn't be hard. Maybe if it got bored of me, it'd let me go.

Or maybe it would kill me, but I was ready to take that chance.