Game Over

Prologue

I’ve always been called the term “normal” by most people. I had normal friends, went to a normal school, had normal siblings, and a normal life. But the only thing that wasn’t normal were my parents.

My parents were the head of the Las Vegas Institute for Technology. They researched and experimented there, finding new ways to live a better life through technology. They were well known throughout America, making the news and headlines no one could believe, and made millions a year. I would sit at home on the couch with my siblings, watching them on TV get “Scientist of the Year” awards, and they’d thank their co-workers and friends. But never us. And whenever they weren’t at work, they were playing some sort of video game. They’re such game addicts that they named us after video game characters.

But I was the daughter of the greatest scientists that ever lived.

Our home routine was always the same, they’d leave really early before we’d wake up, and they’d come home really late, after we were supposed to be in bed. The three of us would try to stay up to wait for Mom and Dad to come home, but Serah would fall asleep before they got home. Nathan would always pick her up and bring her upstairs to her room and lay her on her bed, and then come back downstairs as we waited for the black Mercedes to roll into the driveway.

That’s how it was every day.

I was nine years old when that routine started, when Nathan was old enough to stay home without a parent. He was twelve at the time, and Serah was six. Mom and Dad obviously wanted more time for work, and some days, even weeks went by where I never talked to them. They’d come home later, and there first response was “Why aren’t you two in bed?”

“We wanted to see you. We haven’t all day.” Nathan would answer.

“Go to bed.” They ordered, and then we walked up to our rooms and went to bed.

That’s how it was every day.

That routine was the same thing for two years. They missed everything we did. Graduations, school plays, sports, awards, everything. They were never there. But they always came home every night.

And we all believed they didn’t care. Two years of them not being there, and I felt that my only family I had were my siblings.

But after that, it all changed.

The night before, they came in so happy, saying “We did it.” and “It actually works.” They didn’t tell us to go to bed, but oddly hugged us. I felt like they were being, instead of scientists, parents for once. We were happy just to see them acknowledge we were there.

The next night, it was somewhere around eleven. Serah was asleep, and we were on the couch, watching TV. They were going to be home at any moment.

Midnight, one, two, three, and somehow eight in the morning came. They never showed up. We were up all night, we know it. I kept Nathan awake as he kept me awake.

“Something’s not right.” Nathan yawned that morning.

“I agree.” I replied, rubbing my eyes and getting up to make coffee for us. “We didn’t fall asleep before they came home, did we?”

“No, we didn’t fall asleep, I made sure.” He replied, grabbing a cup and drinking it down. “Go wake Serah up, I’ll start the car.”

“Where are we going?” I asked, ultimately confused.

“Where else?” He said back, putting his cup in the sink. “The Institute.”

I climbed the stairs and to Serah’s room. I approached her bed and shook her lightly until her eyes blinked open.