"How unfair," he muttered, his hands rapidly swung across the console, back hunched, and his eyes concentrated on the TV.
The home was sloppily cleaned, only because he felt as if he had allowed it to become dirtier, he'd be classified as disgusting, as if he hadn't far exceeded the prerequisites to be titled as such.
This addiction had started around the period of his parents dying and leaving him with their minimalist house, and small sum of 15,000 dollars, which he saved most of, only to spend on games.
To his credit, he had a job. But this job was as a moderator for a famous internet celebrity, paid $25,000 per year. This could of course, not sustain him properly, and he had sold materials on multiple big-time games.
This in total… yielded $39,000 per year. He had heard teachers in Florida—where he lived, were on average, given a salary of $40,000, and he had often bragged that they had a small gap of income versus a man who hadn't left the safety of his home.
Glass breaking.
A silence, one especially too quiet. Even the display hitched its breath, as if it too joined the play of suspense.
Buck slowly reached for his phone, but toppled it over. He heard stomps approach him, and instead, chose speed over stealth, hammering in 911.
But, a masked, bulky figure had already set its gaze on Buck, with a gun pointed at Buck's forehead.
"I don't want to do this. Hand the phone over," the robber said, opening his empty hand for the phone.
Afraid of giving up the only leverage he possessed, Buck did a very slight head shake.
"Dying is not worth this,"
He clicked the call button.
"—911, what is your emer—"
The shot blasted through the call, and the dispatcher quieted.
.
"To be really honest, you haven't been a redeeming person. You've had questionable fantasies and have read Lolita and 120 Days of Sodom to entertain yourself—even if you did stop reading after a few chapters and burnt the book.
Adding onto the fact you've done some heinous things, masturbated as a teenager—though you were under the effect of hormones, so I guess that's reasonable. However, you pleasured yourself as an aware adult multiple times, and relapsed every time you saw something remotely sexually attractive.
There's more, but recounting them would either be unreasonable because they are petty—or so graphic that your very mind has forgotten to protect itself,
I guess there's only Hell for you. —But, you were really cocky, and believed you could perform better than a significant portion of protagonists within fantasy worlds, and I'd like to test that."
The child, perhaps God himself in an adolescent form, or an angel, read his sins as if they were written into a book.
Buck could only guess that he'd be transported to a generic fantasy world, and become a decent hero—and die.
But what the sadistic child said next, shook him to his core.
"It will be a difficult world. So I'll grant you regression with regeneration to make it more interesting for me," he said, following with, "I'll start you at a point where it could be thought of as a death loop."