Chương 8: Tutorial Complete

I slammed the door and spun around to lock it. The lock was one of those shitty ones that are just a little thing you turn on the knob, easy to open with a paperclip. It wouldn't stop the Old Woman if she were as strong as Strongman, but maybe it'd buy us a few seconds. We needed to barricade ourselves in. Tre wasn't going to be much help in that endeavor.

"See if you can open the windows," I ordered, already shoving Mom's dresser toward the door. It weighed a ton, and I had to throw my whole weight into it, straining every muscle, to get it moving across the thick carpet. Tre scurried past me to the window. He was a tiny mountain climber, grabbing fistfuls of curtains to pull himself up bit by bit. The dresser slid into the door with a thud. I wedged the nightstand against it, then dragged the heavy wooden chair from the corner and jammed it against both.

"It won't open!" Tre called from the windowsill, tugging at the frame. I studied the barricade. It'd hold. The dresser was heavy, and if she tried to move it, we'd hear her coming. We were also completely trapped. I listened at the door but heard no footsteps. No sickle scraping the walls. Nothing. Where was she? We waited there another thirty seconds, listening for the Old Woman to come after us. But there was no sound from the hallway. Tre hopped down from the windowsill and looked up at me.

"Nora, you look like shit," Tre quipped.

"Thanks, buddy." The HUD showed my Health at 75%, and my throbbing chin concurred. I checked myself out in the mirrored closet door and winced. Blood from my chin had soaked the front of my chest, already drying on my shirt. The ragged edges of the wound had started to swell. I smiled experimentally, relieved to find my teeth all in place with no chips or cracks. My shoulders seized as the pulsing in my knees, dull a second ago, flared white-hot, radiating up my thighs and down to my shins.

Tiny needles pricked the gash in my chin, and I staggered back until the back of my knees clipped the edge of the mattress, and I fell back onto the bed.

"Dude," Tre said as he climbed up beside me.

"Are you okay?" I held up the LifeLine, displaying my Health stats.

"Shit, Nora. You're lit up like the Enterprise on red alert!" I didn't answer. Pushing myself up from the bed, the room did a slow twirl. I held the edge of the mattress, waiting for the nausea to pass, then steadied my legs and stumbled into Mom's bathroom. Flipping on the light did nothing. Right. The power's out. I instinctively looked for the flashlight on my phone, then remembered it wasn't a phone anymore. It's a 'LifeLine' now.

It turned out LifeLines didn't include that particular feature, and I mentally cursed Maltheris for poor phone design among his many other unforgivable sins. But I'd been in this bathroom a million times over the years and knew the layout by heart. I eased myself down to sit on the tile floor, holding onto the counter, and let out an involuntary groan. The same sound Mom used to make getting out of bed the day after a bad fall.

Inside the cabinet under her sink was a field hospital's worth of first aid, organized exactly the way she'd always kept it. I reached for the antiseptic bottle, but when I tried to twist the cap, it didn't move. The whole thing was a prop.

"What the hell?" I grabbed the box of bandages, and it was the same thing—an empty shell.

"They're all fake." Tre cocked his head.

"Huh?"

"Look." He slid off the bed and waddled over, peering at the items in my hands.

"They look real to me." I handed him the box.

"Yeah, but it's hollow, and the top doesn't open."

"Weird," Tre said, turning the box in his hands, examining it. After a moment, he handed it back to me.

"They won't go into inventory either," Tre said, thinking out loud.

"Which means the game doesn't see them as items." He was quiet for a second.

"But it put them here for a reason. It didn't fill this cabinet with random junk." I was starting to get annoyed.

"So what are they?"

"Raw materials, I think." He said it as if it had just clicked.

"It's a crafting system. The game doesn't want you using a bandage; it wants you to make something. I think these are ingredients." He looked up at me.

"Hold both of them at the same time and think about combining them. Like you're merging two things into one." I stared at him.

"You want me to think at them?"

"You recalled a knife out of thin air using vibes, Nora. Yes. Think at them." I grabbed the antiseptic and the bandage box and held them together, feeling immediately stupid. I focused on the two objects as one thing, willing them to become something useful. With a blinding flash and a crystalline brrrriiiing, the box and bottle transformed into a neon green pouch. It reminded me of those squeezable applesauce pouches for kids.

Except this one had a yellow twist cap and a red medical cross icon pulsing on the front. NEW ITEM CRAFTED! HEALING SALVE (Bandages + Pain Meds) Effect: +25% Health / Clears Minor Status"Pulped medicine, packaged for children. Survival never tasted so sweet."

"HA!" Tre's face lit up.

"It's a crafting mechanic! You combine items to make them usable! Wild." My patience evaporated, leaving a nub of irritation in its place.

"So, nothing works on its own."

"Exactly." He was practically vibrating with excitement.

"It forces resource management." I stared at the salve in my hand, then back at the cabinet. Everything there was a potential ingredient, but before any of it would be useful, we'd need to figure out the correct combinations. It would've been a fun challenge in a video game, but in real life, it was a daunting, impossibly unfair task that could only slow us down. After I twisted the cap off the Salve, green goop oozed onto my fingers. Unsure what to do next, I rubbed some of the chill goop against my chin.

Nothing healed.

"Wait," Tre said.

"Don't apply it. Drink it." I looked up.

"It's a topical gel, Tre. You put it on the wound."

"In real life, sure. But this isn't real life. That's a healing potion. Games never let you smear stuff on yourself; you always consume it. Doesn't matter what it physically is. Drink the gel."

"I hate it here," I said, after examining the green goop on my fingers.

"Down the hatch!" I closed my eyes and squeezed the green gel into my mouth. I don't know what I expected, but I was relieved when it tasted like that artificial sour apple candy flavor. The effect was instant. The burning pain dulled, then faded entirely. I looked in the mirror, transfixed, as the cut knitted itself closed. The bleeding stopped. The swelling went down. My shoulder loosened, and the ache in my knees vanished. Even the deep bruising across my back disappeared.

I checked my HUD: Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. HEALTH: 100%"Holy shit." I felt a billion times better. Not just healed but oddly reenergized. Pure amazement colored Tre's features.

"That's actually insane." The empty salve pouch flashed twice, then disappeared from my hand.

"It really is," I said softly. Physically, I was fine, but I looked like a used tampon. Even in the dim light, my face, neckline, and shirt were drenched in blood and sweat. The black fabric hid most of it, but the tacky dryness clung to my skin.

"You think we have to do laundry here?" I wondered aloud.

"That wouldn't harvest them much fear or whatever," Tre said.

"Plaxx'll probably snap his fingers and reset everything again."

"You're probably right," I agreed.

"All the more reason to finish this tutorial." I peeled my shirt off and rinsed it in the sink, figuring a damp shirt was better than a bloody one. Pink water circled the drain until it ran clear. Then, I wrung it out and put it back on. After, I rejoined Tre, who'd waited in the bedroom.

"Anything?" I asked, dropping down next to him on the bed. He shook his head.

"Not a peep."

"She's definitely still out there, right?"

"Without question." I looked up at the ceiling, then back at Tre.

"Why would they let us just sit in here like this?"

"It's a tutorial, Nora. They gave us time to learn the new mechanics, but the moment we open that door, we're back in it." I stood up and started pacing.

"You're sure about the windows? Maybe you didn't have enough leverage."

"Nora, I tried—" I was already at the window, heaving it up with all I had. It didn't budge. I tugged harder, fingernails digging into the sill. Nothing. Tre scoffed from the bed.

"I told you." I looked around for something heavy and spotted the wooden chair we'd used in the barricade. I dragged it over and swung it at the glass. The window didn't crack. Didn't even scratch. The surface rippled like I'd thrown the chair into a pond, then went still again. I stared at it.

"What the hell?"

"Same. Same."

"We need a plan…" Tre looked at me expectantly. When I didn't continue, his brow furrowed.

"Why am I the one who has to come up with the plan? I'm just a companion."

"You're the one who knows how the game works."

"I know how game mechanics work." I stared at the barricaded door. My mind felt sluggish. The door was a dead end with the Old Woman still out there. The windows wouldn't open. Mom's closet was just neat rows of clothes and lined-up shoes. Nothing that could help us— Tap, tap, tap.

"Miss Price." The Old Woman's voice, still sickly warm and syrupy, had a wet lapping sound, thick with saliva.

"Come out of Mommy's room. I want to play." I backed away from the door. The edges of my vision started to blur; Fear meter rising to 48%.

"Can you still taste her in there? The sweet rot. Air thick with dust made of dead skin. Do you remember lying awake listening to her whimper, pretending to sleep?" I didn't answer. I couldn't. My body went rigid before I could think.

"You played a good little martyr, but felt a jolt of repulsion every time you touched her, didn't you? Changing her pads, wiping her down. Pretending it was love. But it was pity. And you liked it because no one else needed you."

"What's wrong, Nora?!" Tre screamed it. But his voice was so far away.

"But you weren't only thinking about Mommy," The Old Woman continued, voice sickeningly gentle.

"No… not always, filthy piggy." My hands wouldn't stop shaking. I pressed them against my thighs, but it didn't help. FEAR: 51% (ANXIOUS) LUCIDITY: 49% (SLIPPING)"I wonder… do you still dampen at the thought of being wrapped in thick arms? Still desire to be choked, and spit on, and gagged," she crooned.

"Does your friend know how vile you really are?"

"I don't kink-shame, asshole!" Tre shouted.

"Don't listen, Nora." My vision tunneled. The room felt smaller. Hotter. I was burning up.

"No friends, no job, no future," the Old Woman taunted.

"Spending your nights drinking yourself into a stupor, wishing you could get fuc—""SHUT UP!" The words ripped out of me.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" My voice shattered, rising into a scraping shriek. A low, wet chuckle slid under the door.

"There she is." SLAM. A thunderous impact made the door shudder. The dresser scraped backward an inch, rattling the nightstand. FEAR: 68% (PANICKED) LUCIDITY: 31% (SLIPPING) I slid down the wall, knees curled to my chest.

"Nora, listen to me. This isn't real, you need—" Tre's voice sounded muffled, underwater. SLAM. Louder this time. Wood splintered. The dresser shifted another inch. Each inhale felt too shallow. Sweat dripped down my back.

"Nora," the Old Woman called, voice low and jagged.

"Let me in." Every word shook with hate. FEAR: 79% (TERRORIZED) LUCIDITY: 21% (FAILING) The room seemed to bend around me. Shadows crawled along the ceiling, stretching and curling like living things. Then the walls began to bleed. Not real. Not real. SLAM. SLAM. The dresser moved across the carpet, allowing the door to open an inch, leaving a visible gap. Half a face filled it. The too-real mask pressed between the door and its frame. One glassy eye glared through, unblinking, staring straight into me.

"Nora!" Tre shook my arm, but I barely felt it.

"NORA!" FEAR: 92% (CRITICAL) LUCIDITY: 08% (COLLAPSE) The HUD's text swam through the air, breaking apart: W̸A̸R̸N̸I̸N̸G̸: ̸ ̸C̸R̸I̸T̸I̸C̸A̸L̸ ̸F̸E̸A̸R̸ Something crouched in the opposite corner of the room. Watching me. I blinked, and it was gone. Or maybe it was never there.

"Let me in," the Old Woman demanded.

"I'll slice open your belly, and we can bathe in your warm liquids together." SLAM. Her fingers, wrinkled and gnarled, curled through the gap. I was losing it. I wanted to claw my face off, scream until my skin split, tear out my hair, and choke on it just to end the noise. Please stop, please stop, please stop. Then—'Breathe, Nora.' Dr. Boivin's voice surfaced, clear and calm, from somewhere deep in my head. My therapist.

'In for four. Hold for four. Out for eight.' I closed my eyes. Forced air in through my nose. Held it. Let it out slowly.

"Are you praying? God is dead!" The Old Woman cackled. In for four. Hold. Out for eight. The shaking in my hands eased. The shadows in the corners stopped moving. FEAR: 86% (TERRORIZED) LUCIDITY: 14% (FAILING) I kept going. In. Hold. Out. Tre watched silently. Each time the door slammed, it felt further away. Less immediate. The terror lay coiled in my gut, but it wasn't controlling me anymore. FEAR: 79% (TERRORIZED) LUCIDITY: 22% (FAILING) The Old Woman threw herself at the door. A wet, heavy thud.

She left a greasy smear of blood and filth. Her cackle erupted high and manic, then broke into a gurgling shriek.

"Let me IN." SLAM. A crack. SLAM. Wet crunch. SLAM. Splintering bone. The door wouldn't hold much longer, but that wasn't what she was really after. She was trying to break me. I wouldn't let her. Huh. It was like using a muscle I didn't know I had. FEAR: 52% (ANXIOUS) LUCIDITY: 58% (CLOUDED) As my Lucidity number climbed, my thoughts sharpened. The fog lifted. I could think again.

"Keep going," Tre said.

"Whatever you're doing, it's working." The Old Woman's shrieks became a ragged wheeze, then a choked gurgle. She was destroying herself in a frantic repetition of violence. Fragments of the damage were visible through the gap: torn silk fabric, a broken finger bent at an impossible angle, the blood-soaked rubber mask. FEAR: 30% (NERVOUS) LUCIDITY: 85% (STABLE) After a while, it went from scary to pathetic. She was a monster, tearing herself apart for another taste of terror. There was a long pause.

A dragging, scraping sound. Then, a final rush of movement. CRACK. The sound was deeper, more final than the others; the sound of a skull yielding to force. The top half of her mask tore away, revealing a ruin of shattered bone and pulped flesh. One eye dangling by a thread of sinew.

"You will die here…" The wet words were forced out through ragged lips and a mouth filled with blood. That final image of her lodged itself permanently in my mind. But it was over. Neither Tre nor I moved an inch. A notification rolled into view: ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED! YEARS OF THERAPY Unlocks: BOX BREATHING I"Keep Calm and Don't Get Harmed." SKILL GAINED! BOX BREATHING I (Passive) Effect: +1 Focus"Settle down. It's just a passive."

"Whoa…Did I just unlock magic?"

"Kinda." Tre's voice was low, like he was thinking out loud.

"You're thinking D&D, not video games, although, technically, Baldur's Gate 3 did a remarkable job at—""Tre!"

"Tangent. Right. Sorry. But I mean… look, you used a real coping mechanism and the game registered it. Gave you a Focus buff for it." He paused.

"Nora. You can manipulate the Fear and Lucidity meters from the inside. With things you already know how to do." That landed somewhere deep. A tiny thrill sparked in me. A pleasing combo of relief and… hope? Or, like, some version of almost hope. I had moves they hadn't given me. Moves I'd earned the hard way, before any of this started. Another thirty seconds passed. Long enough to wonder if the Old Lady was faking, still waiting for us to get close.

"Was she saying something to you?" Tre tilted his head curiously.

"I-- It doesn't matter." I was still sunk against the wall. Tre was near the bed. Both of us stared at the gap. When no new nightmare announced itself, we finally moved. Together, we slid the nightstand aside. Then the dresser. With each movement, we braced for something scary to happen. But it never came. Words formed in the air: TUTORIAL COMPLETE! We may have survived the Old Woman, but her last words haunted me.' You will die here.' She might be right.

Even though I'd worked out how to control my panic, we were still trapped in this awful game. When the last obstacle was clear, the door swung open on its own. We both jumped back. But there was nothing scary in the dark hallway. Just Plaxx standing at the top of the stairs, shoulders slumped, scrolling his own LifeLine device. He looked up at us, sighed, and started walking toward us with none of the usual flourish and in no real hurry.

"Gotta say, you two, pretty good," Plaxx admitted, the genuine surprise briefly cracking his usual persona.

"That was just the warm-up."