Ch. 7

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Tom slammed his head into his pillow for the third time in a row. One day, three hours and seven minutes since Tord locked himself inside of his room after that confusing day they had; not like he's counting or anything. Tom was still pondering the question on what happened and why Tord did all of those strange things the other day. He felt like it was more than just a personality disorder or depression. It felt unnatural.

Matt and Edd were still downstairs having a solid conversation on if it was possible to storm Area 51 with a fork. Sometimes Tom would question if both of them shared one brain cell, but he had other matters to attend to.

For some reason, the strangest memory would replay in his head over and over. He would remember Tord bashing the keys in with his hand, and the first couple letters dropping onto the floor. He tried to slow down the memory inside of his head and looked at the missing keys from his memory. He looked back at his keyboard and tried to remember the letters again. The letters that had fallen out were the letters M, O, A, D, N, and E. He couldn't comprehend what Tord was trying to do; matter of fact he didn't know why he was trying to hard to remember what Tord tried to write. He just had a gut feeling that it mattered.

He started to worry. There might have just been a chance that Tord was going through severe depression that caused him to act that way. If it was really that, he wanted to help Tord in every way possible.

With every breath he took, he knew the timer was counting down. The days, the hours, the minutes, and the seconds were all strangling him like a cord tied to his neck. He couldn't think almost at all, and he recently started getting headaches that throbbed worse then a hangover.

All of the pressure being out on him made him feel worse as the seconds passed by.

He had to make a clean breakthrough somehow, but he didn't know how he could do it. Somebody's life was on the line and he didn't want to just wait until the timer was over.

Then the answer slapped him across the face.

'If I'm doing this so that Tord could survive, maybe I can make him happier myself. Why can't I just ask him out or something?' Tom thought to himself. A light blush spread across his cheeks as he quickly erased the image out of his head.

'What if he rejects me or something goes wrong?' Tom shook his head to himself and smelled his head back into his pillow, sighing into it with a frustrated tone.

He needed a breakthrough on how to solve it, and he wasn't allowed to take risks. He had one chance and he wasn't allowed to mess it up. He couldn't play anymore dangerous moves or else there was a chance he could lose the game-

He got it.

Why was he still calling this a game?

It was just life. He got a chance to re-live a part of his life; it isn't a game. He needed to stop thinking it was a game because it was his reality now. He couldn't go back to the future of past; this was his new present time, and with the new information he had there was a chance he could make a new life.

Because it wasn't a game anymore.

This was real, and he had to learn that.

I won't forget you... (Sequel to "Blame it on me")Where stories live. Discover now