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You’re scared of the dark, now. Being trapped in that basement for as long as you were, of course you’re scared of the dark.
You pluck a single pale eyebrow hair from your face, frowning at the screen in front of you. You don’t know why you thought that. That damn game was still fucking with your head, wasn’t it?
Your eyes trail up to the sticky note on the wall. Five words, five words that you’ve not buried into your brain deeply enough to stick, that you stare at until your eyes water, until your face burns, and then you stare a little longer.
You are not Carrie Mark.
You’re not. Of course, you know you’re not Carrie Mark. Your name is Paul Leskowitz. You’re not a five year old girl. You’re a thirty two year old man. You’re Paul. You remember now.
There’s a tap at your door, and you look over your shoulder.
Belle stands there.
It’s good that she’s here, you think, watching her rub her forearms awkwardly.
“Hey.”
“Hey,” You respond, hoarsely, and it doesn’t come out right, so you try again. “Hey.”
She looks at you sadly, watching you pull an eyebrow hair from your face. “How are you feeling?”
“It’s been a good day,” You say, and you only say it because that’s what she needs to hear. “I think it’s all going to be alright.”
“Okay,” She says, gently and weakly. “Um… did you hear about your mom?”
Your mother’s name is Rachel. Not Anna. You don’t know Anna Mark, because she’s not real. The game made her up.
“No, what’s up with my mom?”
“She got a new cat.”
“Cool.”
Absently, you wonder if Daniel ever had issues with reality after making the game. That was a stupid question. He changed his name to Rainer and killed himself before finishing it, of course he had issues.
Belle pauses, before turning to leave. You don’t stop her.
In Carrie’s world, Tiara is her sister. Not by blood, no, she was an only child- her father had only needed one child. In Carrie’s world, Tiara and her only met after the school, after the pain and heartbreak made Carrie’s mind break. In Carrie’s world, her cousin Rainer was the only person in the Family who cared, the only one to show up to all the trials, the only one to defend her from the press.
He wasn’t an asshole who lived in his mom’s basement and bullied your best friend and made haunted video games, no, he was a good guy.
Besides, he’d already lost a little brother. He didn’t want to lose a baby cousin too.
You don’t know if he killed himself, too. You think he probably did. Maybe some things were consistent.
Your eyes find the post-it note again.
You are not Carrie Mark.
Your name is Paul Leskowitz.
When you close your eyes, you see a red vase, and it’s not your face that looks back from the reflection.