This was a short writing commission based on a prompt. You can request a prompt of your own here by sending me $10 for 500 words based on a prompt. it can be anything.
A lot of people choose to live in the margins of society. A lot of people exist out there in the world never leaving a single mark. Some people sit in their iron castles made of mental will and fortitude carved out through strife, bloodshed and, and battle with foes that they’ll never meet again in their life. Vivi was just one of those margins. She had what she needed. She didn’t need anything or anyone. She could get by just fine by herself.
With mouse in one hand and keyboard in the other, there wasn’t a foe she couldn’t slay, outsnipe, or outplay. The world of video games was her oyster. She could be anyone or anything. She could even be toast. In here she was free to be anyone she wanted or anything. “I don’t need anything” she told herself. Her hands were deft and her aim was sharp. And as long as she stayed quiet and kept her head down, the gamers would never knew who she was. After all, how could they stand to have the enemy amongst themselves? They flew into rages mixed with fire and fury the moment she spoke up. Sometimes that’s what she wanted. Sometimes she hated it. She never knew until it the match started. She was in the margin. She was the one in the shadows. No eyes on her. Nothing around her to stop her. And no one to ever find her.
She performed exactly as much as she wanted to. If a gamer started flaming her, she simply threw. She was in control. She was in charge. They couldn’t hurt her and they sure did love to try. She would always throw a bit at the beginning, make sure the gamers were worth it. If they didn’t play stupid games, then she performed. Those ones were worth it. But the ones who fought? Well it was a game.
“Whose mental will break first? Mine or yours?”
The moment she spoke a man just launched out a series of knives, bullets, teeth and blood. The girl, safe on the other side of the screen chuckled almost every time. It was the funniest thing imaginable. Such effort, such insults and all she was doing was trying to have fun. And someone just had to try and ruin it.
“You ruin my fun? I ruin yours.” She’d say into mic and immediately get shouted at.
It’s not often you get to choose to re experience your own trauma. It’s not often you get to re-experience it with the ability to choose, to have power over it again. To take it in your hands, and choke the life out of it. Games were fun. Competitive Games are fun. So many different types of people. So many different types of interesting little basket cases of people who were nothing but a voice and a gun that she’d never see again, or maybe not even remember.
She didn’t need anything more really.
Just someone who had her back.