Back at Square One (BEN Drowned)

9

In reality, based on what I'd just heard, I was convinced I had everything wrong about Ben and his plight. After a while of sitting and thinking, he started to talk.

"I shouldn't have said all that," he muttered, squeezing his eyes shut regretfully. "I was really, really awful back then. I thought I could get away with anything, and the world would still see some poor kid who got swindled and killed."

"Wait, what?"

"You're not looking at a martyr here, Avery. I was just...horrible. I was so annoying, and selfish, and—"

"Ha, was?"

It slipped out before I realized I was even thinking that, and the room seemed to freeze. I didn't look in his direction, but I was certain Ben was fixing me with a sharp glare.

"...sorry. Old habits. Continue."

"...anyway, I'm pretty sure I know how people see me at this point. Well, at least how some of them do." He wrinkled his nose and pressed a hand to his forehead. I mean, that's fair.

"Thank you for understanding. But I guess I just didn't know how the world worked back then. I tortured people, and toyed with them, and killed them, and I thought it would take me to where I wanted. And that was really stupid." He turned to me, his eyes narrowed and inquiring. "Do you even know half of what I've done?"

I shrugged, not exactly sure how to answer. I'd like to think that I do.

He started ticking off on his fingers. "I've hacked into people's bank accounts, made them commit suicide, made someone think they had schizophrenia, ordered crocs off Amazon when this one guy wasn't looking—"

"Jesus Christ."

"Yeah, I felt bad about that one. But the one thing I always do, is I trick people. I mess with their heads, I make them think I'm worth helping and it always blows up in my face. Sometimes in theirs, too. And I still went at it. Got super pretentious after a while, that's probably most of what you've read about me."

"So all that 'BEN is getting lonely' stuff was just your 12-year-old emo phase?"

"Please don't call it that." He seemed to think for a minute. "Actually...yeah. It was. And I thought everyone would feel sorry for me." Ben scoffed and closed his eyes. "Wow. I mean, I don't know what to tell you."

I raised an eyebrow, grappling for any information I could find in my brain. But all I could come up with was, I feel sorry for you.

"You shouldn't. I was a brat."

"No, you weren't. I saw your conversation. Your last one alive."

Ben flickered and looked up at me, wide-eyed. "You saw what?"

"You were so scared of sounding ungrateful. You got tricked into doing something you shouldn't have. That wasn't your fault."

"No, I never forgot all that. But you saw me, when I was alive? Did...were you—"

"Oh, god, no. I don't do cult shit. You should know that by now," I said hastily, holding my hands up again. "I...dreamt about it. Before I even got the game, somehow." Saying it out loud felt embarrassing, for some reason. Probably because I nearly witnessed your death to a moon-worshipping cult when you were 12 isn't the best conversation starter. Ben's expression was curious, to say the least.

"Oh. How about that," he muttered to himself. I opened my mouth to ask what the hell that was supposed to mean when he lifted a hand, as if to say, maybe later.

"Thanks anyway, I think. Just because I have to trust you for the time being doesn't mean we had to be nice to each other, so...I appreciate it."

"Anytime. What does 'how about that' mean when I told you I had some PTSD flashback of a dream a month ago."

"Not important. I vote we should get to work." Ben stood up and stretched his arms, like he was preparing for some ghost-specialty workout.

"As in...?"

"My freedom. You know. What I've wanted for seven years plus some months."

"Well, how are we—no, how are you supposed to even leave the game in the first place? This isn't some school project we're talking about here, this is some death-or-even-worse-death shit if you ask me."

I'm painfully aware of that, Avery. I'm just wondering if you have anything that'll help this. Like...what did that Alan guy—"

"Alex. You forgot your last victim's name?"

"Not my last. But what did he even write about me? The last time I looked myself up I could only find Vaporwave pictures and some weird story that was called 'ben drowned a lemon' or something..."

As the realization dawned on him, his face grew more and more horrified. I sighed.

"That's you. That's...what you're called on the internet."

"I'm never going on fanfiction sites again."

"You really shouldn't be on them in the first place, buddy."