“Why did you do that?” Bread’s mind was in shambles. What was this emotion he was feeling? It wasn’t like any from before. He was burning inside, face hot with heat. “You hurt her!”

“I’m not answering stupid questions.” Val shoved him aside and stepped into Coach’s gym.

She pushed me! His nostrils flared. How could she act so cold? “She was crying! You said nobody would get hurt!”

“I never hurt anyone.”

“But she was—” He could feel tears streaming down, swirling together with the heat from his face. “She was crying!”

“I’m not a therapist, Bread!” she lashed out. “You want me to console them or something?”

As he watched her stomp away, he realized what this feeling was—anger. That was the emotion he had felt. He couldn’t understand why she was acting like this. Why did she have to hurt somebody like that? He didn’t like stealing; it didn’t feel good at all. His records were right. Stealing was bad. He hated this feeling…

“What happened?” Coach rushed out of the workshop. A bunch of precision tools clattered to the concrete floor, but he didn’t even seem to notice. “Are you both fine?”

“We’re fine.” Val held up the diamond embedded bracelet. It sparkled and shined under the bright, morning sun. “Got a decent haul today.”

Bread tried to snatch the bracelet from her hands.

“What’re you doing?” She snapped her arm back.

“I’m taking it back.” He tried to reach for it again. “To where it belongs.”

“You’re not taking jack shit back.” She held the bracelet higher this time. It was far out of his reach.

“Why?”

“Why? Because I said so.”

“Wait,” Coach interrupted. He stood between them and tried to create some distance. “Calm down, both of you.”

“Why can’t you go back to boxing?!” Bread yelled over Coach.

“You think I have a choice? You think I’m stealing because I want to?” Val shook her head. “I did it because I had to. There’s no other reason why.”

“But you’re hurting people!”

“I don’t care if I’m hurting people! I hurt people when I box too! What? You think everyone’s living like saints? Helping each other out like it’s some kind of charity? Don’t be ridiculous.”

It hurt so much. He hated this feeling. He felt helpless, lost. He felt hurt. But what he hated more was the feeling he’d get when hurting someone else. He’d rather hurt himself, sacrifice himself. It hurt less. They were happy, and he was too. Why couldn’t that just be the way things were? Why couldn’t everyone just be happy?

“Val!” Coach yelled.

“What? I’m just telling the truth!”

“He’s just—”

“I liked it better when you boxed!” Bread cried. “You were smiling more. You-you looked happier!”

“Happier?” Val’s nose immediately contorted at the mention of that word. She looked furious. He’d never seen her like that before. “I can’t afford to be happy! If I had the money to survive on my own without hurting anyone, I would! I gladly would! But I don’t even have that luxury! I don’t—if—if I had money, Beady would…” Her voice trembled. She took a deep breath. Her next words felt ice cold. “If I had money, I wouldn’t even need you.”

Wouldn’t need me… All the strength in his voice, all that emotion, left him. “Am I,” he whispered, “just Beady’s replacement?” He could feel his heart beat, the sound echoing through the silence that followed. Please, he begged. Please say no…

“Yeah! You are! What’re you going to do about it? Huh?”

The air felt like sandpaper. It was suddenly harder to breathe, harder to think. Like he was drowning underwater, feeling those murky waves fill up his eyes and ears. Why was he even doing this? Just to feel like he was real? He was never going to be real; he was born in a simulation. He couldn’t help it anymore. He let out his anger—

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

“At least Dad didn’t replace me!”

“Then go back to your fucking dad!” she cried. “You were supposed to be my second chance! I thought I could fix my mistakes, but now I know I can’t! Because you’re not even real!”

“I…” And he was crying again. He was alone again. Everywhere he went, they were all the same. He tried to help, make them feel better because that was what he’d wanted in return. He wanted to feel better too, but it never felt like he was being given back the same. Only scraps. Like he’d been robbed…

Nobody cared about him.

“Just an immature fucking baby!” Val stepped in closer with every word. “Do you know how hard it is to survive out here? You can’t even feed yourself, but you’re telling me not to steal? What do you think those stupid words will do? Make me feel better? Hah! What a fucking joke!”

“Lass,” Coach called out.

“I let you into my life and this is how you repay me? You’re just a pathetic fucking mod doll. What makes you think you have the right to tell me what to do?!”

Bread curled up into a ball and closed his eyes, hoping that everything would just disappear like it did when he’d first left Simular. He didn’t like it here. That frozen forest he’d seen in that white room, he missed it.

“Lass, enough! Knock it off!” Coach’s voice boomed through the empty gym. He pulled Bread closer. “It’s alright, lad.”

He buried his head into Coach’s shoulders. It was warm—warmer than what he’d expected from someone who he thought didn’t care for him.

“Take a walk.” He could hear Coach saying. “And come back when you’re cooled off.”

“He needs to learn! How’s he going to survive if we’re not there? I have another heist planned—”

“Take. A. Walk.”

“Wait, I… Bread…”

Bread could hear Val’s voice grow softer, but he didn’t dare look back. He wanted nothing to do with her. Nothing.

“I… I’m sorry…”

There were footsteps. Then nothing. And in the emptiness, he only heard his dry, uneven breaths and the voices in his head constantly repeating what she’d said, constantly telling him again and again—

That he didn’t belong here.

…

“Sit. You like those flowers, don’t ya?” Coach pointed over at the dandelions firmly growing atop some raised flowerbeds. He sat at the edge of the building, legs dangling in the air.

Coach had brought him to the roof of his gym. Bread didn’t even know that there was a way up to the roof. He didn’t expect there to be so much greenery either. There were rows of planter boxes filled to the brim with plants. Vegetables of different varieties lined what should’ve been empty concrete. There were strips of wildflowers spread all across, sprouting between the clumps of dirt.

The sun was falling. It stained the sky overhead deep red, and the warmth prickled his skin in ripples. If he could, he wanted to pluck the sun out of the sky and rest it on his hands, warming up whatever made up his artificial self.

“Not even Val knows about this place. Lass ain’t too bright when it comes to her surroundings. Funny, eh?”

They sat comfortably on plastic beach chairs with a single parasol shading them from the glaring light. It was breathtaking the way the city sparkled from the rooftop. And as the sun fell, more lights started to dot the urban landscape in the distance.

“Beautiful, ain’t it?”

Bread nodded.

“A lotta people give up on themselves—see all their flaws and decide to never change. But I ain’t most people, ya hear? I always wanted to be better. And I can sense that kinda energy in others.” Coach pulled out a bag of jerky—it was turkey this time. “Val’s like that, and you too. I ain’t one to tell you how to live your life, but maybe I can give you some advice.”

He didn’t get what Coach was saying, but he liked this. Coach, the atmosphere, dandelions. It was all perfect.

“Don’t give up on yourself, Bread.”

Give up? “What… do you mean, Coach?”

“Ya don’t have to be Beady.”

I don’t have to be Beady?

“Just be yourself. There’s nothing to be ashamed of, lad.”

Be myself? He didn’t get it. He didn’t know why, but something about what Coach had said triggered something in his eyes. Everything blurred; his nose itched.

Coach pulled him in closer. “I don’t want you goin’ down the wrong path. You’re both good kids, I know. But the lass is sufferin’ too. She’s been through a lot.”

“What… happened to Beady?”

“He’s, well… He’s gone to a better place.”

“Did he die?”

“Ah, well…”

Bread could tell by Coach’s expression. Beady had died.

The concept of death. He had to admit, it was still a hard thing to fully grasp. How bad would it feel? Would it be similar to not belonging? To feel like being lost? He only remembered what Dad had said once…

“Death is inevitable.”

“From what I’ve heard, seemed like it was the faulty childcare system at work,” Coach muttered. Then he grunted with what felt like a tinge of spite. “Wouldn’t be surprised if he’d been sold to some corporate—nevermind.”

But if he couldn’t be Beady, then what was he? “Does Val care? About me?”

Coach laughed. “‘Course she does! She’s doing this because she thinks you’re family, lad. She’s better than you think. Give her a chance.”

He fell silent.

“You’re—well, it’s complicated, ain’t it? I don’t want you losing your kindness, Bread. That’s what makes you different from the rest of us. The world’s harsh, but don’t let the world define who you want to be. And!” He went on, “We’re all family now whether ya like it or not, but what you do with Val? That ain’t up to me.”

“But I don’t know what to do…”

“Ya got heart, lad. Just follow it.”

Heart… The sun sank deeper under the horizon; more lights spread across the city. Bread took a moment to enjoy the quiet. Right after the loud, afternoon cars passed through the streets, right before the world in front of his eyes was eventually engulfed by a million miniature suns…

They were family—Coach, Val, him. He belonged here. Even though Coach had told him to be himself, just this once, he vowed to make Val happy. She deserved a second chance. She deserved it more than himself.

His own happiness could wait.