Video Game (go back »)

Leah stuck herself between me and the television, with the house phone in her hand and claims of someone wanting to speak to me. I ignored her, and leaned to the left. Again she blocked my view, waving the phone in my face. I kissed my teeth.

“Move!” I said, leaning right. Couldn’t she see I had a video game to play? Couldn’t she see I was ignoring her? Couldn’t she-

By the time I’d gotten to my feet, it was too late. Leah had switched off the television. I reached to switch it back on. She turned to face me, and caught my arm.

“George! Stop-” but questions already filled my mind:

What if the boss has killed me?

What if I’ve spent all these hours of gameplay for nothing?

What if he hasn’t killed me yet and I still have a chance to beat him?

“-for a minute, and-”

“Shut up!” I tried to break away from her.

“Take the stupid phone!” she shoved the phone in my hand. I threw it to the floor, thoughts in my head:

What if it’s too late to finish the game?

What if I have to start it over from the beginning?

What if? What if?

I didn’t care how she was pointing to the phone. I shoved her. Leah grabbed me to keep from falling, pulling my fingers - which were so damn close to the power button – and my body towards her. We fell onto my desk.

Fragile as it was, it tilted at our combined weight. Leah and I fell further, hitting the floor. CD cases, books, everything followed us. And then silence.

The games console called to me. I turned to get up and felt a pull on my shirt. Leah still held me. I took her by the throat, aiming to give her a good slap for making my life difficult. No sooner was my hand in the air that I was lifted off her, and pulled away with a strength that could only come from my father.

            I was spun round, grabbed by the collar, and pinned to the wall.

            “What’s wrong with you!?” Spittle spattered my face, “Hitting your sister? What’s wrong with you?”

            I didn’t answer. Answering would only prolong things. I saw mum come in and kneel beside Leah, asking if she was okay. Leah mumbled something, pointing at the floor.

            Mum picked up the phone. She put it to her ear, and shook her head at my father. The man looked back at me.

            “What happened?” he shook me by the shoulders, “Why has Fred hung up?”

            So it had been Fred on the phone.

            “I tried to give him the phone, but he threw it at me and told me to fuck off. Then he pushed me and started hitting me.”

            That wasn’t exactly true.

            “Idiot!” my father said, “Can’t even speak to your own brother? Don’t even care what he has to say to you, after all these months?” he shook me again, “How? How can you be like this?”

            All I knew was that my father stank of cigarettes.

            “Answer when your father speaks to you!” my mother said.

            I felt like crying. I was tired, hungry, and had played all these hours for nothing. The boss had definitely killed me by now. And nobody even cared.

            “Sorry.”

            “Sorry?” my father repeated, “Sorry? That’s all you fucking say! All the fucking time! Sorry I failed my exams! Sorry I got fired from work! You never mean it! Fuck’s sake!”

“Stop spitting on me.”

“Look what you’ve done! Look!” My father pointed at Leah.

            Before I could say anything, he let go. He went for my beloved games console, and did something he had done before. He pulled its cables from the television, clutching it under one arm.

            I ran at my father, opening my mouth to-

            “BACK off, boy!” He thrust his elbow in my chest, nodding for my mother to hold me. I tried to break free. Leah got up, running to assist her. I cried at this injustice, wrestling against them. I fought until I collapsed, beaten at last.

            And I dreamed. I dreamed of being bullied at school. Of being rubbish at music and team sports. Of not understanding anything in class. Of not having anybody I could call a friend. Of being jealous because my sister had everything I didn’t. Of being sad because my parents had never seemed to love me. I dreamed of being alone, crying in the dark. And then I dreamed of my brother giving me a gift, the only gift I’d ever had. And I tore away the wrapping, opened the box, and there it was…

            I opened my eyes, darkness all around. I was sprawled on my bed, trying to remember what happened. I got to my feet, looking for my games console. I saw it was missing, and hated my family for tearing me away from what I loved. I struggled to keep from shaking with fury. Where would they take my games console? Rubbing my chin, I reasoned… and knew it would most likely be where they’d not expect me to look.

            My stomach rumbled, emphasizing the emptiness I felt in my heart. I needed my games console. Needed the thrill of being sucked into that world of fantasy. I loved travelling through temples and forests, with a flaming sword in one hand, and pet wolves by my side. Loved to clash against one-eyed giants, nine-headed snakes, and other mythical creatures. I rubbed my chin again, caressing the little strands of hair. Where they’d not expect me to look… I tiptoed out of my room. The house was in darkness and silence. My parents’ and sister’s doors were shut. I went downstairs, past the shoe and coat racks, checking the closet under the stairs. Nothing. I went upstairs to my parents’ door, opening it. They slept. I stepped in, lied flat on the floor, and slid my hand under the bed. I pulled out the games console and left.

            I only had a few hours. Then I’d have to slide it back where I found it. I played in the darkness. Seconds trickled into minutes, and minutes to hours. My eyes began to sting. My back arched, my head nodding off as I fought sleep. But the sounds coming from the game was like music to my ears. I told myself to carry on until the very end.

            The light switched on. I jumped, surprised. Had I been so caught in my game that I never heard the door open? I rotated in my armchair, scared of seeing my father. Scared of what might happen now. I could not see at first, the light was too bright.

“George?”

“Fred?”

“So it is you!” Fred sighed, “Wouldn’t think you’d be up this early, It’s close to six in the-“

“Aren’t you meant to be in hospital?” I asked.

“Got out yesterday. Tried to tell you, but the phone cut off.” My brother scratched his head, “Been out with friends to celebrate and- shit!” Fred took a closer look at me, studying me, “You look dead man!”

I knew where this was going. My bro would ask how long I’d been playing.

“Look at you!” Fred came in the room, dropping his heavy rucksack on my bed, coming forward to take an even closer look at me, “How long have you been playing?”

“Please,” I said, “Pretend I’m not here, I’ll be quiet. Let me finish this game.”

“Look at you! You’re all skin and bones!” he sat on my bed, “Are you fasting? Talk to me!”

But I had no time, already I could sense it ticking away, could sense that my parents would wake up soon. I knew to spend less time talking, and more time playing.

“Fred…” I shook my head, “I know it looks like I’m going mad-“

“Damn right!” Fred broke in, “You look older than granddad and as skinny as the noodles I had for lunch.”

“But I’m fine, really.”

“I don’t think so. You’re nodding off every five seconds. I say you stop playing this game… catch some sleep.”

I feared it’d come to this. But I had a game to finish.

“You don’t understand.”

“Actually I do, you want to finish this game before going to sleep. Am I right?”

He was right.

“You’re right. And I’ll be finished soon as well.”

Fred shook his head, “If dad knew you were awake, he’d kill you. But if he knew I let you play at this time, he’d kill me.”

I wasn’t going to tell him that the games console was confiscated, that would complicate things further.

“Come on,” Fred got up, making his way towards me. “Give me that controller.”

“Look Fred, -”

“No, you look. Take your eyes off your game for a minute.” I frowned. Fred’s tone had changed, sounding too much like dad’s: authoritative, unfriendly, cold.

“Look in the mirror, George. Look at what this game’s doing to you.”

“I already know what it’s doing to me.”

“Everyone visited me in the hospital, everyone but you. They kept telling me about you,” Fred eyed me, “They’re worried, bro. Mum telling me you’re drifting away, not eating no more. Not talking no more. Sis telling me you’re going mad over this game. Didn’t want to believe her, but look at you bro.”

Every second spent listening to him was a second lost..

“Everyone telling me you’re doing bad in school, telling me you lost-“

“Yes for fuck’s sake, yes!” I threw my hands up, “Got kicked out of school! Lost my job! Everyone pissed with me, I’m a disgrace! Why can’t you leave me be?” I looked my brother dead in the eye, “Why can’t I be left alone? Why am I always told what to do and where to go? Why is shit always falling on my head?”

“Listen to yourself!” Fred said, “This game’s gotten to your head. Give me that controller!” He snatched the controller out of my hands.

It felt like something inside me tore open. But the hurt went deeper. My own brother, the very one who had given me this game as a gift, was now stopping me from playing. Even he had turned his back on me. But why couldn’t I do as I pleased? Did I prevent my mother from reading her books? Did I stop my sister from riding her bike? Did I stop my father from smoking his cigarettes? So why such injustice? Why?

This games console was all I had; it was all I could associate with. It was the only thing left that hadn’t deserted me.

“Get some sleep bro, you need it.” That said, Fred picked up his rucksack and started leaving, controller pad in hand.

I walked and caught up with him in the doorway. I placed a hand on his shoulder, forcing him round.

“Give me my controller. It was a gift, you can’t take back gifts.”

“George, seriously, just-“

Every second spent listening to him was a second lost. I grabbed the controller with my free hand while my brother talked, trying to wrestle it from his grasp. He smacked my hand away. I tried again, pushing my brother with one hand, and pulling the controller free with the other. Fred, with one hand holding his rucksack, stuck a foot back to maintain balance. But his foot only met air.

I forever regretted what happened next.

The weight of the rucksack pulled Fred, and he lost balance completely, tumbling down the bone-breaking, skin-bruising, rough wooden stairs and not stopping until he lay in a twisted heap on the floor below.

It was as if the games console was calling me again, whispering my name. But for the first time in a long, long time, I didn’t answer its call. I went downstairs, afraid of what I might see.

“Fred?”

For long Fred didn’t answer. I looked at him, waiting for him to say something, anything.

“George… please…”

Tears were in Fred’s eyes, pain and sadness so deep it took my mind off video games completely. I knelt beside him.

It was as if he was trying to say something.

Fred fainted.

Seconds passed. Doors opened and I heard screams. Feet shuffled around me, and I was pushed aside. I heard crying. Somebody was shouting at me, shaking me. Finally, I heard a siren. A door opened. Feet shuffled again, and some shouting. A door slammed. Engines roared. And then silence.

Minutes passed. The image of my brother lying like a broken puppet was etched in front of me. I would never forget it. I struggled to keep from shivering.

The games console called to me. I should have been glad. Finally I could play in peace, with no one to disturb me, no one to bother me, and no one to interrupt me.

I walked back to my room, controller held loosely in hand. I looked to the TV screen. It wasn’t too late, I still had a chance to beat the boss.

But for the first time, I began to see the games console in a different light. Was it worth it? Was it worth nearly killing my brother for?

It’d made me cling on to it and despise everything else. It’d made me neglect my own family, my own blood. But I’d always known that, and it’d never stopped me from playing. I stood, undecided, my eyes fixed on the screen, seeing the boss beating up my character. If I didn’t play in the next ten seconds, I would lose the game.

One second passed. Two. Three.

So close to beating this boss after all this time, after all these hours.

Four seconds, five seconds.

So why wasn’t I playing? Why was Fred on my mind?

Six seconds, seven seconds.

Has this game gotten to my head, like he said?

Eight seconds.

I sat down.

Nine seconds.

Trembling, I stood up. I gripped the controller pad. I lifted it high in the air, and smashed it down onto the games console. Bits flew everywhere on impact. I smashed it again and again until it cracked, slammed it until it scattered, and broke it into pieces. I discarded it, squeezing my fists, feeling cheated, helpless. I took the games console with both hands, lifting it high. I banged it against the television, rammed it into its screen. The TV image went fuzzy, and then black as something inside broke. Still I held the games console, shattered it on the hard wooden floor. I did not say a word. Did not utter a single sound. I salvaged the remains of the console, an unrecognizable mass in my hands, and smashed it against the TV until my strength gave out.

I slumped in my armchair, tears streaming from my eyes.

And I cried for a long, long time.

 

            It took me a while to get myself together and visit Fred at the hospital.

            “Hey Fred.” I walked over to his bed, sat on the nearby chair.

            “What took you so long, bro?” He was smiling, “Dad telling me you’re alright now. Told me you’re going to another school and doing alright.”

            “Yeah… I couldn’t stay in my room forever.”

            “Damn right! Told you those games got to your head man…” He nodded towards the cast on his leg and arm, “Glad I was there to put some sense back into you. Didn’t think I’d be back here the day after I got out though.” He laughed.

            “Sorry man…” This was the first sorry in months that I really meant.

            “No worries, least I didn’t break my back. And my neck’s alright, nothing tragic.”

            “Leah says hi.”

            My brother nodded. We looked at each other.

            “Thanks for coming to see me bro. I’m glad.”

            That made me smile. Seeing me smile made him smile. So we smiled at each other, just like we used to.

And that’s all I really needed.

In Short Stories and Really Short Stories