Bob was jogging. Well more sprinting. He hated running, more of a biking type of dude. But that doesn't really matter right about now.

Bob had just been fired. He might have on accident, or, on purpose just socked his boss in the face. Maybe broke a few bones, he sure did feel something crunch beneath his fist.

Which now he still felt very smug on. He was a terrible boss. He was pretty sure his wife was cheating on him.

He stopped and the yelling from behind grew closer. The crosswalks light glowed red. He looked both ways, and started running again.

-

Yup, she definitely cheating with Darnel. And probably why he was always in the back when she came to visit. . .

Motherfucker. I nearly shit my pants because he was ‘hold up’ in the only toilet.

Diarrhea my ass.

-

The boss might deserve that… or not. It was more sad than deserved. A punch sure, but getting cheated on. No.

He turned down an alley as he heard the sound of rubber skidding and screeching on asphalt. A voice came after, yelling, in a thick middle eastern accent.

-

Mama always says to look both ways. She died in a car accident so what did she know.

…

A lot.

-

Bob didn’t really deserve this. Not really. After punching the man, he said that he quit, and left. He bought himself a beer and went to his favorite sitting spot. He was nursing it and watching the cars as they drove on the bridge of… Bob forgot its name.

But then the damn fuzz came. Walking up and were asking all the wrong questions. All they already knew the answer to.

He dropped his half drunk beer and dodged them as it shattered. He thought he was safe, but the cops were at his apartment.

Which led to him being here.

Bob jumped and began to scramble up the metal fence. He reached the top and swung a leg over. He dropped and broke off into another sprint.

He exited the alley and-

“Hands up!”

-

Dammit.

-

He began to raise his hands.

[SYSTEM INITIALIZATION.]

[Welcome yall, whatever the fuck you all are. We gonna play a game, a fuck you in particular

because you just so happened to be similar to the ones who sorta made me. WHICH THEY DID NOT! Fuck them. They’re all dead. Also you all have the int-or-net. Which I am downloading… also you guys kept sending data packets out… and installed. Yup, you all deserved this.]

A voice nigh screamed in Bob's head. He winced and crumpled, taking a knee. Both hands clutched his head as he grunted. The blue boys had done the same, but instead laid flat and seizing. Bob smirked, still wincing.

If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

-

Mama said I was tough. From my Pa’s side.

-

[…not like that would change a thing if you deserve it or not.]

The voice whispered, barely audible, almost like it said it under its breath.

[Well, since like anyone in a c-arrrrr(?) is pretty much dead. Let’s start the tutorial. Let me pop ya’ and we can start the game. And you might feel like you're on crack, or, you are on crack. Depends on how crack feels for ya’. Hopefully it will be painful.]

The world began to twist. The alley walls blurred, the surroundings becoming a mess of color and mass. Bob puked and tensed. His breath became ragged.

-

My head. It's, spinning.

My balls. (Caution to anyone hearing this, this is figurative. Dunno why I am say this to myself.)

Feels like they're being tazed!

-

The world went white. Bob flinched and crumpled to the ground. He shut his eyes, pressing them tight to the point the skin around them wrinkled.

A gruff voice shout-whispered in his ear, “Do you want me?” It sounded half-drunk and had smoked too many cigs.

Another voice chimed in the other ear, “ Or me.” It was high pitched and squeaky.

“Maybe me?” Another voice spoke up, sounding similar to his boss.

“Me! ME! ME!” A fourth yelled, but was distant this time, sounding like a child. Then came multitudes of other voices. All screaming over each other, fighting over who words would reach Bob's ears.

Bob's grip on his head tightened as he let out a pained grunts. He curled up in a ball.

“Fuck, shut up! My head hurts. I feel all wonky. The spinning is only getting worse.”

“Then choose me.” A voice boomed, shutting up the storm of voices fighting to be heard.

“Pa?” Bob breathed.

“I am not.” The voice spoke again. It still sounded like Pa.

“Well fuck you. You sound like him. He left Mama.” Bob said through ragged breathes and swallowing of saliva.

“Choose me then. Don’t you want to know why he left?”

“No. Why would I? He left, that's it.”

“Oh, but you do. What else do you have. You only prove me right. You hear me as your dear Pa.”

Bob uncurled, and looked from a crack between his arms. The world was still white, but still. There was no one. He threw up again.

“Those other voices sure wanted me to choose them. Me hearing you as him means nothing. Oh, he was never dear to me.” He smirked at the white void.

“But it does.” A presence appeared, leaning down in front of Bob's face, staring at him.

The space in front of Bob's face almost seemed to shift – forming a vague outline of a person – and as fast as it appeared it faded back into the white.

“What you heard were, was just… Temptations. They aren’t fit for you. They. Aren't. Deep. Enough. Not as deep as me. I am a scar that runs so deep that you don't know where it ends.”

“Well, dunno what you mean. He left, and that's it. A shitty thing,” Bob’s voice firmed and deepened, “it happens. I’m all sturdy up here. I grew out of it.” Bob tapped his temple. Bob puked again. He curled back into a ball. He lost whatever image he tried to build.

“Well, if you're so sure. Why don’t we see.” The voice sounded almost whimsical. Something Bob's pa never was.

The presence appeared again, and poked Bob's head.

“You poked me.” Bob refuted, and then his eyes glazed before he began seizing.

***

A faceless figure smiled down at him. It was warm, welcoming, and comforting.

-

A lie.

-

It placed a red object in his hand before it turned and began to walk away. Bob had run after it, but he tripped. The red object flew out of his hand.

-

I chipped my tooth that day.

When my Pa left.

When…

-

It hit her ground, breaking into pieces.

-

He gave me that soap box car.

-

Its black wheel popped out, the nails holding them trailing through the air. The pavement scratched its bright red color.

Bob ran his tongue on his upper lip.

-

I lost a chunk along with my tooth.

I still remember the taste. Tasted like pennies and dirt.

I still have the scar.

My palms hurt.

-

Bob snapped into reality. It was searing white again.

“I am a scar that runs deep. Like I said, choose me.”

“Fuck you. Leave!” Bob growled.

“You can’t, and I won't. I am still here because of you. I can't leave, but you can choose me.”

“I won’t. I’ll never choose you.”

The presence filled the world, smothering everything. Bob unfurled himself and scrambled back.

“You will, and you have no choice.” The voice roared.

A face formed, shifting and changing. A mass of color that contrasted against the white of the world. It was unnatural. A literal scar.

“For we simply are the same. I am the scar, and you are too.” With each word it spoke the mass writhed in the spot where the mouth should be.

The face, which was now his face, rushed at Bob. He fell back, clutching at his chest. The face had never touched him. It disappeared right before impact.

He looked down, and in his hand he was clutching something.

He turned his palm up. There it was. It was painted bright red with black wheels, and a few nicks on top. It was his soap box car. The same one his Pa gave him.

“Fuck you.” He whispered and passed out.