The days that followed in the hospital saw me alternating between periods of rage and depression. The newfound restrictions imposed by my body heightened my rage, while my depression was made severe not only by my inability to see a meaningful future but, I suspected, was also a side effect of all the prescribed drugs.

I began to see myself more and more as a prisoner, confined to a cell with little contact with the outside world. When I spoke my words would come out grim, always revolving around death and despair. I transformed into a mere shell of the man I had previously been.

I worried a lot. Thoughts of finances didn't help. Everyday spent in the hospital came with a bill. The medications were not for free. My health insurance and my employer were paying for the treatment so far. But I was well aware that after a point I would have to start drawing money from my savings account. And once that dried out, what then?

I wouldn't lie, through all my mood swings Kiara stood by me. I kept thwarting her attempts to make me smile and laugh with a deadpan face, but she kept trying. I couldn't have wished for a better girl in my life. Too bad, for her own good, I would have to tell her to leave me and find someone else.

I did heed some of Kiara's advice to rebuild my mindset. I got the nurses to move my bed closer to the window so I could have a clearer view of the bustling metropolis. It was nice to have an almost God-like perspective of the people in the streets down below, and to see the life-giving sun rising and setting in the horizon.. The people moved like ants, the great city a mere colony. A time would come when the colony would perish, but still the eternal dance of day and night would go on indifferently. I began to see that the problems of the individual were insubstantial in the grand scheme of things.

With the removal of my head bandages, slowly, my outlook on life improved. I realized my problems weren’t entirely unsolvable. There was still a gleam of hope somewhere. A small possibility still existed that eventually, though it might take years, I might be able to return to my former life. It dawned on me that I would have to attach myself to this possibility of recovery to be happy. This possibility was my life jacket in the sea of gloom. It helped that I didn’t have much of a choice. As Kiara said, good cheer increased the probability of recovering from health issues. If I wanted to place myself in the good books of Lady Probability I would have to maintain good spirits and good humor. So there was no choice but to be happy. And that was a nice thing.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

And then one day my fun-loving, featherbrained, careless jerk of a brother Sam showed up to change my life forever.

It was after dinner and my pills. Kiara had left. The nurses had asked me to call for them only if I really needed them. A wave of relaxation came over me as the pills took effect. I was slowly slipping into the realm of dreams...

A bright flash of light and a circle formed in thin air. My brother stepped into my room.

“Vicky!” he wailed. “What happened to you?”

“Are you real or am I dreaming?” I asked drowsily. I was debating if Sam was real or a projection of my mind. Sam looked on with horror, his mouth agape. I was still pissed off at Sam and wanted to throw a tantrum, but I was too sleepy to put in the effort.

“My God! Did someone drive a road roller over you?”

“Look I want to sleep, so if you are not real you can disappear.” Thanks to the strong pills I was fighting to keep my eyes open.

“I came through the game world,” Sam said, “so I can’t say that I am ‘real’. This is just my consciousness.”

“A car hit me. My spine is broken. My legs are pieces of meat that I can no longer feel. I will have to stay in bed for the rest of my life. Though maybe some miracle might happen and I will recover.”

“Shit, Vicky,” Sam said. His shaky voice touched me. Was he crying? I couldn’t remember the last time he had spoken with grief.

“It’s okay,” I said, “I am dealing with it, or trying to anyway. Now leave because that portal is getting smaller by the minute. Plus I am really sleepy. I don’t think that I can keep speaking for long.”

Sam turned behind and gasped violently. The portal was tiny.

“Fuck! I must go, Vicky. But I promise, I will return.”

Barely did Sam pass through when the portal closed. I shut my eyes and let the pills whisk me away to some other world.