[ WP ] Finally you have the powers to enter your favorite video games , sadly you ca n't leave until you beat the game . You find out how horrible death is .

I do n't dream. 
 In eighth grade, I told one of my friends that. He thought I was fucking with him. Then, he thought there was something wrong with me. We did n't talk much after that. 
 What I never explained to him, though, is what I do instead. 
 
 I locked my door behind me on the way inside, and locked the rest of the world out. Mom had asked me how my day was. I'm pretty honest with questions. She did n't like my answer. 
 I swear, I'm not trying to be unlikable. I guess that's just my special talent. 
 I banged the heel of my hand against my head. *No, no, NO. * I needed to stop disrespecting myself. That's one thing I really appreciated from counseling, back when we lived in the city. My therapist told me I needed to respect myself if I wanted respect from others. It's just hard, sometimes. 
 She did n't cure the dreamless sleep I have -- did n't fix the night terrors. She *did*, however, help realize the one thing I *am* good at. My special talent. 
 I turned on the PlayStation. The fans whirred and buzzed to life. 
 I turned on the television. It popped and fizzled, then faded into a calm blue. 
 The sound of my air conditioner went away, floating down some distant hallway of my mind. 
 The edges of the screen melted into my peripheral vision. There was no screen. 
 The whirring faded. It stopped. 
 The screen bled black. I saw nothing. 
 
 *FUCK, I ca n't breathe! * 
 I gasped for air, kicked, screamed, tearing my body from whatever black mass enveloped me. I took in deep, sucking breaths of stale fog. My chain mail rattled. My flesh sagged. 
 I struggled to open my eyelids. They felt like they had n't been opened for years. 
 I took a moment. Breathed it all in. `` Ok, Josh. Where the hell are you?'' 
 It took me a good five minutes to get used to the body. It was young, but somehow already decrepit, as if the muscles were rotted with atrophy. I had n't paid much attention to the opening, missed a lot of the lore. `` Jesus,'' I muttered, struggling to even lift my starter sword. `` Am I a fucking zombie?'' 
 
 I was n't. Not really. But I did n't know for sure until I had a point of reference. The shambling zombies I encountered, for starters. They were... a lot *faster* than I had expected. 
 `` Christ!'' I yelped, wincing in pain. The dagger slash had taken a lot of blood -- a hell of a lot more blood than seemed reasonable. `` Damn, kid. Leave some for your boss!'' 
 Suddenly, a sharp and unbearable pain struck me in the small of my back. I shrieked in pain. `` What the?!'' I turned to face my attacker, struggled to shift myself in place, and in an INSTANT I was overcome by a flurry of attacks from both sides. 
 
 *FUCK, I ca n't BREATHE! * 
 I lifted my face up from the dirt and pried my eyelids open all over again, staring straight ahead in disbelief. There lay my own corpse -- above it, the floating viscera of my shattered soul, and all the souls of those I'd slain up till that point. All ONE of them. 
 I took two or three deep breaths. `` You've got to be *shitting* me.'' 
 
 `` You want me to *meditate*?'' 
 `` Not exactly,'' Dr. Baku corrected, smiling. `` Ok, yes, sort-of.'' She was a kind woman, but she liked to push my buttons. 
 `` That's gay,'' I scoffed. 
 `` You know, for someone who complains about getting *called* gay by his peers,'' she blinked, `` you call things *gay* a lot.'' 
 `` You say a lot of gay things,'' I reiterated. 
 `` You like video games. I just want you to do what you like.'' 
 `` No, you want me to do all this extra shit,'' I lamented. `` Breathing exercises, focus tricks. *Mneumonics*?'' I strained on the unfamiliar word, trying to say it like she had. 
 `` I just want you to commit to something, Joshua. You ca n't keep trying something and then giving up every time it gets hard.'' 
 `` And you think playing video games is going to fix me?'' I asked. 
 She shifted in her chair and thought for a moment. `` I think you need to focus on one thing at a time. All I'm asking is that you put everything away, your worries, your memories, your *reality*. Sink into what one conflict at a time, but do n't back away until it's resolved.'' 
 
 *GOD DAMN, I CAN NOT BREATHE! * 
 Was this the fourth time, or the fifth? Shit, I'd lost count. Each time I was reborn, so too were all the walking dead I'd slain, except *this time*, I did n't get to keep any of my progress. If I wanted to keep what I'd learned, I'd have to slog all the way back through mere dozens of broken horrors, just to reclaim what was rightfully mine. 
 `` Baku, you fucking whore,'' I groaned. `` This was n't the deal.'' 
 
 `` You've been cheating,'' Dr. Baku scolded gently. 
 `` Save scumming is n't cheating,'' I corrected her. 
 `` It's got *scum, * right in the name, Josh,'' she remarked coldly. `` The real world is n't so forgiving.'' 
 `` Why the hell are you trying to teach me about the real world with video games, huh?'' I barked. I did n't like her. I mean, I did. She taught me how to dive in. How to put everything else away. It was fun; I liked it. I just did n't like having to do it *her* way. 
 `` Because the real world is not going to change for you, Josh,'' she responded, narrowing her eyes. `` It does n't get easier. It does n't get nicer. It's there whether you play the game or not, and if you want to survive... if you want to *win, * you are going to get used to picking your ass up and trying until you succeed.'' 
 
 `` Oh yeah,'' I laughed to myself. Through the stone archway, down a cobbled staircase, and in the center of a great circle, was an enormous armored man. I turned and shouted to my invisible fans. `` Nothing suspicious here!'' 
 I lumbered on down the stairwell, muttering some. `` Not so much as a damn checkpoint... fucking tonberry-ass enemies, and YOU!'' I continued, shouting at the centerpiece asshole. `` King Cliche! You can attack me now! I know you're the first boss!'' 
 The figure remained stationary, hunched over, as if paralyzed. 
 I blinked, and took a step forward. `` What the hell triggers this?'' Nothing. I took another step. Still nothing. I leered at the man. `` Is this a damn jump-scare or what?'' 
 Just then, he noticed the sword. He had n't seen it before, a twisted metal blade piercing the man's body. `` Ohhh...'' he exhaled in awe. `` King Arthur IS the stone. Okay. I'll bite.'' He gripped the hilt with both hands. `` Just so you know,'' he said to the armored figure, grunting, `` I'm pretty tough shit around here, so do n't bother springing to attack the moment I pull this out, because I'm likely to kick your --'' 
 About that time, the sword slid loose, and I went flying backwards onto my ass. The armored figure lifted up, a great iron spear in his hand, and pointed it towards me. 
 `` Go ahead,'' I challenged him, wiping the dirt from my face. `` Kill me. It's not like I have n't died a thousand times already, today.'' 
 
 Baku grabbed a new blue case and guestured it towards me. I rolled my eyes. `` I do n't like that fantasy shit. Give me a racing game.'' 
 `` You'll like this one.'' 
 I twisted my head around, then looked her way. `` What's it called?'' 
 
 Dodge. Slash. Dodge-DODGE. Slash. Run, run, run, run. Heal. Two left. 
 Slash, dodge. Slash. SLASH. `` UGH!'' I coughed, sputtering blood. *FUCK. I got cocky. * 
 Dodge, dodge, dodge, dodge, slash, slash, SLASH, SLASH! 
 The towering guardian reeled from the strike, staggering backwards. `` Tried to warn you, motherfucker!'' I roared, beating my sword against my sheild. `` I RUN THIS SH --'' 
 A sickening `` SPLURT'' filled the air as the inky black tendrils exploded from the knight's back, reeling outwards until they had formed an enormous bladed fist, bigger than the man himself. 
 `` SHHHHHIT FUCK GODDAMN WHAT THE HELL IS THA --'' 
 ***SLAM. *** 
 
 `` This one is called *Dark Souls, *'' Dr. Baku said with a grin. `` I think it's just the challenge you need.''
