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“Living in the City,” thought Patty as she connected the Sega Saturn to the school
auditorium’s projection system, “you know you have to survive.”
Life had never been good for Patty.
At a young age she had been left an orphan, but that was actually the best thing that
ever happened to her. You see, her alcoholic father possessed a frighteningly sadistic
streak that often resulted in swollen bruises across Patty’s frail, young body. She wasn’
t the only one to incur his sudden and relentless rage, however. Her drug -addicted
Mother garnered her fair share of beatings too, though that did little to comfort Patty.
Her mother secretly blamed the girl for her father’s alcoholism, and took every
opportunity to vent her twisted aggression by pinching her and pulling her hair. There
was no shelter from her pain.
Thus, Patty shed no tears when her parents were discovered mutilated in their
bedroom one evening. Even the cops that showed up at the grisly scene were
unnerved. Why, a rookie could have sworn the poor wretch was smiling. The little girl,
stood in a congealing puddle of blood, clutching her plush fox, grinning like a Cheshire
cat.
A killer was never found.
An hour later, neither was the little girl’s plush fox.
She could hear the other student’s piling into the auditorium, jabbering on expectantly,
debating what kind of public service announcement they were going to be forced to
watch this time. Patty reached into her pack and pulled out a sticky, scratched jewel-
case and delicately removed the lustrous disc from within. “You have to keep the
dream alive.”
Her time at the orphanage was quite uneventful and Patty was thankful for that. While
not “good,” per se, it was at the very least quiet. Quiet was always better then a
savage beating. High school on the other hand, was the beginning of a new
nightmare. The kids teased and tormented her mercilessly. She simply didn’t fit in, and
the other students were willing to remind her of that fact every chance they got.
Cheerleaders threw paint on her. Jocks humiliated her. Nerds talked down to her. It
was almost as if there were only two cliques at Belmont High – one consisted of Patty,
and the other of everyone else.
In situations such as these, some kids turn to extreme methods of coping with their
grief. Some become extroverts. Others turn to the mind-obliterating contentment
drugs. An extreme few even cut themselves to feel the passion of pain. Patty’s escape
was much worse.
She played a certain video game.
And in an unfathomable way, it played her in return.
She placed the disc in the antique system and pressed the power button. There was
no turning back. Sounds of confusion reverberated throughout the auditorium,
underscored by the song Supersonic racing.” It wouldn’t be long now.
They hit her! They actually hit her! Patty could stand being mocked and humiliated,
but this was too much. When the girls on the volleyball team actually smacked her
after an exceptionally bad match, Patty could take no more. That night, while playing
“Sonic R,” racing around Radiant Emerald, he spoke to her, as he often did in times
like these. There was no voice measurable by man, but his bobbing, inscrutable eyes
articulated things that mere words could not express. Dreadful things. Horrifying
things. Exactly the things that Patty wished to hear. Together, they hatched a silent
plan. A plan that would make everything right again.
It was all over in a matter of minutes. Patty left the AV booth and entered the
auditorium. The rank air reeked of iron and sweat. There, in the center of the
carnage, hovering mere feet above the ground, was plush fox with uncannily vacant
eyes.
Patty smiled.
auditorium’s projection system, “you know you have to survive.”
Life had never been good for Patty.
At a young age she had been left an orphan, but that was actually the best thing that
ever happened to her. You see, her alcoholic father possessed a frighteningly sadistic
streak that often resulted in swollen bruises across Patty’s frail, young body. She wasn’
t the only one to incur his sudden and relentless rage, however. Her drug -addicted
Mother garnered her fair share of beatings too, though that did little to comfort Patty.
Her mother secretly blamed the girl for her father’s alcoholism, and took every
opportunity to vent her twisted aggression by pinching her and pulling her hair. There
was no shelter from her pain.
Thus, Patty shed no tears when her parents were discovered mutilated in their
bedroom one evening. Even the cops that showed up at the grisly scene were
unnerved. Why, a rookie could have sworn the poor wretch was smiling. The little girl,
stood in a congealing puddle of blood, clutching her plush fox, grinning like a Cheshire
cat.
A killer was never found.
An hour later, neither was the little girl’s plush fox.
She could hear the other student’s piling into the auditorium, jabbering on expectantly,
debating what kind of public service announcement they were going to be forced to
watch this time. Patty reached into her pack and pulled out a sticky, scratched jewel-
case and delicately removed the lustrous disc from within. “You have to keep the
dream alive.”
Her time at the orphanage was quite uneventful and Patty was thankful for that. While
not “good,” per se, it was at the very least quiet. Quiet was always better then a
savage beating. High school on the other hand, was the beginning of a new
nightmare. The kids teased and tormented her mercilessly. She simply didn’t fit in, and
the other students were willing to remind her of that fact every chance they got.
Cheerleaders threw paint on her. Jocks humiliated her. Nerds talked down to her. It
was almost as if there were only two cliques at Belmont High – one consisted of Patty,
and the other of everyone else.
In situations such as these, some kids turn to extreme methods of coping with their
grief. Some become extroverts. Others turn to the mind-obliterating contentment
drugs. An extreme few even cut themselves to feel the passion of pain. Patty’s escape
was much worse.
She played a certain video game.
And in an unfathomable way, it played her in return.
She placed the disc in the antique system and pressed the power button. There was
no turning back. Sounds of confusion reverberated throughout the auditorium,
underscored by the song Supersonic racing.” It wouldn’t be long now.
They hit her! They actually hit her! Patty could stand being mocked and humiliated,
but this was too much. When the girls on the volleyball team actually smacked her
after an exceptionally bad match, Patty could take no more. That night, while playing
“Sonic R,” racing around Radiant Emerald, he spoke to her, as he often did in times
like these. There was no voice measurable by man, but his bobbing, inscrutable eyes
articulated things that mere words could not express. Dreadful things. Horrifying
things. Exactly the things that Patty wished to hear. Together, they hatched a silent
plan. A plan that would make everything right again.
It was all over in a matter of minutes. Patty left the AV booth and entered the
auditorium. The rank air reeked of iron and sweat. There, in the center of the
carnage, hovering mere feet above the ground, was plush fox with uncannily vacant
eyes.
Patty smiled.