Finally, Level 4 will appear on her screen, and Audrey will be alone in a dark room, standing in front of a mirror.
All games have one final battle, one final monster to defeat in order to win the entire game. The Big Boss is the biggest, toughest villain to beat and is the one that usually takes a few tries to overcome before you can call yourself a winner.
It’s possible that Audrey will be confused when she sees herself step through the other side of the mirror and she is looking at a screen with two of the same character facing one another, identical in every single way.
I developed a scene for the doppelgänger to speak to Audrey, telling her that it doesn’t matter that she’s come this far. Nothing matters. It never will. She can’t win this battle.
When I was coding it, Cline sat by my side, sweating and talking to September on FaceTime. “What if you trigger her and she relapses? What if you do something seriously wrong and cause her to go off the deep end?”
“September, do you think Audrey is strong enough to know reality from bullshit when she sees it?” I asked, looking up and into the pretty brunette’s eyes through the screen.
She ran her fingers through her hair and exhaled slowly. “I hope so.”
In any other game, this exchange would go on for a long time. The Big Boss would grow stronger with the main player’s weakness. They would fly overhead and show their vulnerable spot on their belly or something to that extent. But this scene is silent with only the two of them staring at one another. After the fake Audrey stops speaking, a prompt pops up on the screen. Simple. One click.
Do you agree? Yes. No.
That’s it. It’s all she has to do. In order to slay her monster, she simply has to say she doesn’t believe the bad things in her own head. The stuff she hears with her own voice.
If she chooses no, which I hope she will, her wings grow, and she rises into the night sky, shining so brightly that every star around her grows dim. And with one swipe of her hand, the other Audrey is completely erased, obliterated into nothing but ash.
She’s victorious.
I am nowhere in this game. There’s a reason I did not place myself there to help her or to be a sidekick or the main character to save her. She doesn’t need saving. She never did.
I gave her the hero she deserved: herself.
It is three o’clock in the morning, and I can’t stop shaking.
The music playing on my laptop is making my pulse race and memories of my childhood flood back long after I have beaten the game that Elliot made for me. This song was put into a music box for me by my dad when I was three. It was a song a friend had written for my mom years before I was born. I’d only recently retrieved the box from my room and asked Patrick about it.
He’d explained that Wendy was going through a rough time not being able to have children, and she’d had a best friend, Delilah, who played the guitar and wrote songs. She showed up one day and played it for my mom, telling her that no matter what, she was there for her through any and everything. He gave me the lyrics just last week, and I pinned them to my wall because they spoke so deeply to my soul. “It’s okay to not be okay,” she sang to my mother as she mourned the idea of never having a baby.
My eyes search out the paper with the lyrics on them, and I read them over once again, letting my heart stretch and pull while I picture Elliot putting all this effort into the gift he left at my doorstep. Without even knowing he’d done it, he’d woven a song of hope into his game.
Fear looks back
Doubt looks down
Hope looks up
So, darling, hold your head up now
It’s okay to feel like the dawn’ll never break
It’s okay to not feel okay
Just remember me, friend, when you’re down on yourself
I’ll be here with an outstretched hand
Don’t worry, my friend, if you darken my door
‘Cuz I’ll be here to turn on the light
And I’ll carry the weight of your dear, heavy heart
And dry the tears from your eyes
My lids are heavy, and I am drained from finishing the levels he created for me. The last one, choosing to not believe the terrible things being said about me, by the reflection of myself … that was the toughest one of all. Psychologically, I wanted to agree, but in the moment, taking a step back and grounding myself in reality, listening to words of wisdom I’d gleaned from Dr. Stark, my father, Cline, and Elliot, I know better. It will be one minute at a time, and maybe I’ll have to remove myself from the situation to get clarity, but I’ll move forward every day. I swear I will.
Right now, I’m going to get my shoes on and go to an apartment where I have a sneaking suspicion the light will be on outside.