Virtual to Real

Thank you, Null_Soul for editing this story.

Any and all comments/ feedback is welcomed.

All characters are 21+

This is an introduction to the story and does not have of the fun parts yet.

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Present Day - Part 1

That moment when you're cooking but want something else.

Ugh too late, can't waste food for no reason. I could keep it as leftovers and I can get something else....

Hmmm... Glancing at the clock it's already late in the evening.

Might as well eat what I got, adulting can be so annoying. Why can't I be more spontaneous, just say f it and order sushi?

uggggg it's fine...

At least today wasn't so bad, the workweek's finally over.

Just need to get thru dinner, clean up, and shower, then I can finally get back into my sweet fluffy bed.

Lost in thought as I sing my task, half in my head half out loud, I hear the door being opened and the latch catch.

Fuck!

Grabbing a knife, I walk towards the door.

Where the fuck's my phone! I knew I should've gotten an alarm system.

Panic building up I try to think, who would have a key, maintenance? No, it's too late in the day and they tell you when they're coming, usually at least. Then I smell it, a familiar scent.

No fucking way! You got to be kidding me. The panic quickly switches to anger. I try to push the door closed, but then I see your stupid boot keeping it open.

"Open the door Lola."

"You need to leave."

"You know I'll kick in the door if you make me."

"There's nothing for you here."

Then the rage encompasses me like a blue flame. Putting the knife down, I undo the latch knowing you're not going to just leave. Ripping the door open I come face to face with my biggest regret

'How dare you show up here now!" Before I can continue my tirade, you're crowding me in the

doorway forcing me to back up letting you in. I hear the door slam shut behind you.

"Lola, I know you're upset."

"Upset was the 1st month you didn't return my calls or messages."

"Upset is when I thought you died somehow and checked the obituary and your socials."

"Upset is when month two rolled around and I finally figured you were just ignoring me, that was upset."

"Now I'm furious, you have the audacity to show up here."

"Remember my address but couldn't send a message like I have an emergency, I'm busy, I'm not attracted or interested in you anymore. No that would require a set no, no you choose the coward route and to think I thought you were any better. Thank you for reminding me people equal shit."

'Whatever you thought you were looking for it's not here so please get out."

'Don't you want an explanation Lola?"

'Not anymore."

"Let me explain....'

"Did anyone you love deeply, die? No! Almost die? No!"

"Did a fucking brick fall from the sky giving you short-term memory loss and you finally came to in the hospital a few days ago and got here as quick as you could!".

I watch as frustration clouds your eyes, your jaw tensing at me cutting you off.

"I don't care, nor want to hear any fucking explanation or excuses you've come up with"

"Since you didn't have the two brain cells to rub together to help you figure how to send a message of any sort, or even a fucking messenger pigeon. I don't care anymore so please get the fuck out of my house."

I was doing so well moving on before this. Now, I'm back to feeling like someone is ripping my sanity out but their grip's too weak, yet they keep tugging, giving blinding numbing pain that has no relief.

Is this a panic attack? No, I'm being dramatic yet I can breathe, scream, or cry.

Pull it together-- nope not showing weakness. Call 911 that'll make it end but with my luck, they'll probably arrest me.

I jump when I feel your hands on my arms, opening my eyes to see your way to close

"Get the fuck off me"

"Are you married? fuck that would make sense!"

"Lola, look at me. I'm not married." You sigh.

Panic envelops me as if this is my last chance for survival. I try to tear my arms from your grasp and start to buck, I don't hear you telling me to calm down.

I hate memories- especially the way they come forward and take over

We're back sitting on your couch.

"Safe word green you're good, yellow slow down, a break is needed/let's re-evaluate. Red I'll stop immediately no questions asked."

I summon every last thread of sanity I have and yell

"RED."

I feel you finally release me immediately helping the panic recede a bit. Taking a shaking breath. I look to see you staring at me with a mixture of hurt and concern. Fuck your hurt.

"Lola I'm not trying to hurt you, we need to talk."

"Ha, oh you've already done that." I chuckle feeling like a maniac.

"You are just another sorry excuse for a human that needs to lie and clear your conscience or whatever the fuck self-preserving thing you need to do. This too much, you need to leave now"

You continue to stand there, looking at me.

"What are you looking at? Get the fuck out!" I yell. Hating myself for how my voice cracks at the end.

You step forward and I jump back almost falling but being saved by the wall.

An emotion, akin to hurt, flashes across your face. How are you hurt, Ha! You don't get to be hurt. You did this.

I hear you mutter that this isn't over when I hear the door close, snapping me out of wherever I'd drifted to. Running over I lock the door, securing the bolt and latch. I need to stop forgetting to put the bolt on.

After sliding the couch behind the door, I finally feel myself calming down.

As I lay on the couch trying to take deep breathes, something glittering in the corner of my eye. Sighing in relief, I see your copy of the key on the floor, which you must have dropped with everything happening.

It feels like a bomb went off.

I walk blindly back to the kitchen, suddenly exhausted, and throw everything into the sink.

Turning off everything, I stumble to the shower, cold nor hot water seems to help stop the shivers.

I fall into bed with my head pounding.

Stuck, in that in-between of sleep and consciousness, I finally feel the tears start.

The following morning, I wake up groggy, feeling akin to hungover. I shoot a message to my manager saying an illness rendered me useless. After confirming it's ok to take a few days I fall back to a dreamless sleep.

Waking up again with the migraine of a thousand men, searching for my phone I see it's now 3 pm, I see a message from you.

Ha! you do know how to work a phone and send a message. Who knew? And your number hasn't changed. I don't know why I didn't block it. No time like the present.

"We need to talk, Lola."

Fuck you. I mutter to myself.

I delete the message and immediately block your number, I should've blocked it long before.

Putting the phone on the charger, I stumble into the bathroom and mindlessly start washing up.

Plopping on the couch I stare into the unknown

I try to fight the drift but my head's too weak to avoid this self-inflicted torture. Wiping my eyes, I try and fail to think of something else. Anything to stop replaying it over and over again. Where did I go wrong?

If I only knew then what I know now-- what fucking song is that