Well, here I am, staring at my 'The End', walking the last few steps of my journey. I still have a choice of course, I don't have to take the short path to the end, the other choice is much longer, extending beyond what I or anyone can see. But its not too difficult to foretell what this alternative journey of mine will be like, and I don't welcome it very much. Choosing the shorter path is much easier, and I'm sure there are many who would agree with me. Though, objectively speaking, many more would probably call it the "coward's way out", and I can see why they would think that way, its simply because they don't understand.

I don't mean the pains of life, everyone has their own, and people suffer through these pains and difficulties until things get better, until their goals are reached and they enjoy their happiness and wealth and richess and whatnots. Humans are made that way, to be tough and resilient, because life is not easy. And I'm jealous, my heart bursting to its seams with this single emotion everytime I think of those who had this experience, and of those who will have this experience.

I wish I could experience it too. Just once. Just once would be great.

But there are a subset of us, a minority of humans, who fail to see that beautiful sunrise at the end of a dark stormy night. They failed to be tough, to be resilient, they chose the easy way out. That's what I always believed anyway. Like them, this option was always available to me, at every step of the way, with every decision I made, it was there. Most of the times it was inconspicuous, though sometimes it does show its presence, even so I never once took it... Obviously. I braved the discomfort, misery, and torment, faced every curveball that life threw at me. I held onto my hope.

This remained true even after my incident. It had hurt me both physical and otherwise. My physical wounds recovered fast, not much of a surprise, children always heal fast. However, children don't heal well emotionally and mentally, in fact, the incident had severely scarred for life and cursed me with a phobia. I did not understand much of this when I was young, all I knew then was that I become very scared, very easily. I had started to avoid everyone, especially the teachers. The teachers were scary. The only ones I felt safe around were my parents, and they became my friends. They were my only friends for a long period of time. Actually, now that I think about it, I don't recall ever being alone with my father. Maybe it was just coincidence or my failing memory, but I guess it does make sense if my young self had sub-consciously avoided such a situation.

As I grew older, and my understanding of my situation got better, mostly thanks to Dr Clennon and the therapy sessions with her. With her help, I slowly came to terms with my past, and working towards my future. Even so, it did nothing for my current self. My trauma remained deep rooted within me, refusing to release me from its horrendous, twisted grasp. I still found myself unable to converse properly with others, and very much friendless. Well, I am at the age where I can't really consider my parents as friends, as sad as that it.

But like I said, I didn't give up. I greatly desired to overcome this phobia of mine, I constantly fantasised of the day when I'll be able to start talking to others, have friends, and maybe even start a romantic relationship or two. I yearned for it, maybe even to the point of desperation, for a normal life. In the beginning, Dr Clennon had encouraged to socialise virtually as a way to familiarise myself with interacting with others, a simulation of sorts as she had put it. Having the ability to interact, chat, and even make virtual friends all the while staying in the comfort of safety of my own protective bubble did wonders. It felt like the first major steps in my recovery process, it gave me my hope.

At some point, I found myself part of a close, tight-knit community of online DnD. Within this community, I made some really great friends, best friends maybe. At least I hope so, I have never met any of them in-person, only interacted with them virtually. All of my early DnD sessions involved me using only text to communicate with the rest, while the others usually opted for voice communications, after all, being able to hear one another does make the game much more interesting. Anyway, this realisation pushed me to my next step, and eventually I managed to gather up my courage to finally "buy a mic".

I still remember how I felt. It started of as harrowing, my heart was pounding in both fear and anticipation, thousands of thoughts were constantly racing through my mind, mostly thoughts of "what if things went wrong". After the initial rounds of welcomes and congratulations for having "obtained a mic", things quickly settled into the setting that I was familiar with, playing DnD. My worries and fears had melted away, and I enjoyed myself.

Dr Clennon called this a major milestone in my recovery. I was inclined to agree with her, but I think there was a part of me that was anxious, worried about the speed of my progress. The above events had taken place many years later, I had already reached adulthood but I still lacked ability to hold any sort of real life interactions with other. Any attempts of such communications, always from others, always leads to the same result, me recieving some level of panic attacks. However, I tucked this worry at the corner of my heart, compressed it to the deepest recesses of my mind. I rather believe.

Soon after, it would seem like my next big breakthrough had arrived. When the "First ever physical meet-up!!!!!" event had been announced, my friends had expressed their interest in attending. At some point, probably due to the many youtube videos I watched, my fantasy had turned specific, mainly revolving around playing DnD with others in real life and not through a screen. Sometimes during a session, I would imagine that the others were in the same room as me, interacting with each other physically rather than through the screen. And so, attending this event, especially since my friends were going to, seemed like the right choice.

Even now, I'm still sure it was the right choice. Even... even if it lead to this...

When the day came, I froze, hesitated and then retreated. I had ran away, quite literally, from the event, and shut myself back into the warm embrace of my small and very familiar room. As much as I had tried to convince myself, my body frozed, refusing to step through the doors. I spent the rest of my night stewing in shame and self-loathing, endlessly recalling the scenes that I saw. The place was brightly lit, and people were milling about in there. The place was comfortably full, brightly lit and packed with all sorts of figurines and boards. it gave a warm homely feel. I had stood at the window, taking all these in. I recall my excitement, the flutter of my heart, and the countless butterflies in my stomach. All I needed to do was walk in, and I was sure I would recieve the same warm welcome.

Then someone happened to glance in my direction, and for a brief second locked eyes with me before moving on. That was all it took to shatter my courage and willpower. Fuck my weak lousy self. All that excitement and anticipation just drained away, replaced completely by soul-crushing paranoia. I don't even know what happened next, all I recall was needing to get away. I had to run, had to escape, I had to get myself safe. And then I was safe in my room. Again.

My hard earned safety gifted me the agony of disappointment and sorrow. I cried for myself.

At some point I had dragged myself infront of my computer. I realised then that I have became too dependent on the distance that the online world provided. I had stopped crying by then, but I was still depressed. Even then, I still held onto my hope, as small and impossible it had seemed then, I still held onto it.

The online world held many mysteries and answers, whether they be good, bad, grey, or some weird mix. With nothing else I could do, I searched there. Searched for another way, another solution, any seemed fine as long as it held some form of hope. Then I found it, in some obscure forum that I had randomly came across on a random Google page in the double digits.

> Try link. I was in a rough spot a few years back and they really helped out!

>

> Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

The website page was simple, it consisted only of the company's name, a description of themselves. A cursory search did not reveal any information of where their business was located, nor was there any number or email for one to contact them with. The only other thing apart from the home page was a link to an application form.

Welcome to New Life Inc.

Facing troubles in your life? Need a solution but can't find one?

Here at New Life Inc., our team of experts and specialists will work tirelessly to provide you a solution!

Contact us for more information!

I have never heard of this company before, and if I had to be honest, the whole thing looked sketchy and dubious. The original poster never did reply, and maybe that should have been a warning, but the me then didn't care. Rather, I did not have the luxury to, I was only looking for a solution.

The form too was simple. In addition to my name, email, contact number and occupation, it asked for a brief description of the problem I needed help with, to which I simply entered "Social anxiety disorder".

The email response came the very next day. The contents were straight-forward, thanking me for choosing their services and informing me that a representative has been assigned to me. Included was a link to download a chat app made by the company and instructions on how to use it, in which I can use to contact my representative. I was thankful for this app, slightly impressed that they had taken my social anxiety into consideration. Seems like this company isn't just a cold, unfeeling machine.

Unsuspectingly, I proceeded to download and install the app. Here goes nothing. I took a deep, calming breath, and then sent a simple greeting via the app. The reply was instant, my representative introduced himself as "George", once again thanking me for choosing the services of New Life Inc., and making promises of delivering the finest service. You know, the usual pleasantries. And yes, its probably that George. Crazy, slightly manical, over-the-top guy claiming to be a top notch host. But of course, I only knew that afterwards.

The conversation went in the direction I expected. George asked me for more details of my troubles, probing as much as he could. He could probably tell how uncomfortable I was discussing my issue as he kept reminding me that unless he gets the full picture, he may not be able to properly help me out. The logic presented was reasonable, my rational mind understood it very well, but the emotional, scared part of me was still very much uncooperative. Despite my uncooperativeness, which I'm sure was very annoying, George had remained patient and professional, at least in his typed words. If I had to guess, he probably felt that the conversation with me was no different than an adult trying his best to wrestle a kid's favourite candy for the sake of said kid's health.

At the end of two very exhausting hours, George finally ended the "QnA" session, thanking me for my cooperation and that he would get back to me in a few days. It was only later on that I realised that not once had we discussed payment, but I figured it would be fine to postpone the financial talk to next time.

And then there was no "next time". Or rather, "next time" happened not via the app, but in person. There I was minding my own business in my cozy apartment and surfing the net, when I heard the door open. The locked door to my apartment, to which I had never made a duplicate of, much less gave it to anyone, had opened while I was still inside. I will skip over the rest of what happened, but basically I panicked and shutdown on the spot, I'm sure you would understand. Not immediately of course, I was more confuse at first I guess, but then when the realisation stepped in... You get the idea.

And then when I came to, it was in the same room as you, so you know what went down. After that, I just bolted from the room, ran aimlessly before entering this room at random. Out of habit, I sat here, right infront of the computer and booted it up, which did not work much to my disappointment. Even so, having the computer right here gives me a sense of familiarity and safety.

It was then I found my card too. Yes, the card I showed you. I'm not sure when I got it, but from what you said, they probably just placed it in my pocket when I was busy shutting down.

Name: Brown

Group: Civilian

Task: Make a good friend

Can you believe how I felt when I saw my task? Its such a stupid, simple task, but it is impossible for me. I couldn't make any friends for 34 years, how could I in 7 days? The worst part is that they highlighted the word "friend", see? They're taunting me, I know it. Its a failed task right from the get go.

...

“– Congratulations. Task completed. –”

Sigh... I never told you this out of shame, but I guess now it wouldn't matter. You know the first time I heard the task completed announcement, I immediately felt envy. Envious that someone else had completed their task so early and easily. Even after you told me that it had resulted in the murder, that ugly, disgusting feeling still remains. And with that announcement just now, its back, even stronger this time. And the worst part is, I still don't care if this was yet another murder or not.

I just wished it was me. I want it to be me. A friend...

...

You're sure you can't be my friend? Yeah... Yeah I guess... It wouldn't be professional for you. And I guess, who would want to be friends with sad, anti-social me? I wasted the first 3 days away, and with basically today over... It wouldn't make sense to prolong my own suffering... Yeah... Its too late even if I met that boy now... White right? He seemed nice... At least from the way you had described him... Maybe if I had talked to him from the very start, maybe, maybe things would be different...

That's life I guess, I just made some bad choices... That's just too bad...

...

All that crying, and snivelling. Why am I so weak..? So... pathetic? I wish I wasn't so much of a coward....

Sorry, you're right, I should at least remain positive towards myself.

...

Its still scary, the idea of it. I know I made my choice... But its still scary. A different sort of scary. I can feel my heart, its beating like crazy, but its nothing like the ones before. This time, my thoughts are calm, almost detached from my emotions I guess. Its like my heart knows, and its trying to get in as much heartbeats as possible. Maybe its trying to encourage me in its own way hahaha...

Take my time huh? I guess I should savour these last few minutes.

...

...

Brown stared at the small bottle in her hands, she had been staring at it the entire day as she talked. Eventually, silence fell, and it remained so for awhile. Yellow sat by her patiently, as she had been the past 2 days. It didn't take Yellow long to get the socially anxious, panic-stricken Brown to calm down and trust her, she was not a veteran psychologist for no reason.

"I'm ready."

It was barely a whisper, but it was clear as day in the deathly silence of the place. For the first time in a very long time, Brown voluntarily locked eyes with Yellow, her eyes were resolute, but if one were to look carefully, they may be able to detect a hint of pleading and desperation, and Yellow saw this. Yellow kept silent, steadfastly returning the gaze, silently encouraging Brown who was slowly lifting the bottle to her lips. Not once did they break eye contact, nor did the desperationg disappear, if anything, it seemed to grow more profound each second.

Yellow was not nervous, she already knew the outcome. After her two days of hard work, she had essentially made Brown her marionette, and Brown was none the wiser. Yellow's manipulation had been subtle and discrete, some may even consider it an art in deceit. Brown's desire to live had been effectively sedated, and no matter how much it struggled, it would not be enough to cause Brown to even hesitate. This was evident in Brown's action, who did not even pause when the bottle reached her lips and tipped the contents down her throat.

In one smooth motion, the poison was drunk, voluntarily. The contents were simple, it was essentially highly concentrated solution of liquid sleeping pills. Brown let out a small sigh, and leaned back on her chair. Finally, the eye contact was broken as Brown closed her eyes, maybe even relieved at finishing her journey.

Still remaining in her seat, Yellow patiently waited, watching Brown fall asleep, as her breathing slowed to a complete stop.

“– Congratulations. Task completed. –”

That was her. Her task was completed. Satisfied, Yellow stood up and made for the exit.