Dr. Creepen's Dungeon - S1 Ep13: Episode 13: Deadly Computer Games

Episode Date: January 21, 2021

We begin tonight’s horror extravaganza with two wonderful original stories by FREDDEGRAN, kindly shared with me via my sub-reddit and narrated here for you all with the author’s express permission. First is ‘The Knock-Knock Game’, followed by the Trevor-influenced tale of terror ‘GTA 6.’   https://www.reddit.com/user/FREDDEGRAN/ Today’s third tale of the weird and macabre is ‘I just broadcasted the biggest Twitch stream of my life, but now me and my chat are scarred for life’, our evening of fun then rounding off with ‘My sister was the most harmless kid on the block: then she started playing Call of Duty’ a pair of original works by SpookyChorror, once again narrated here for you all with the author’s express permission. https://www.reddit.com/user/spookyChorror/  Please check out his phenomenal YouTube channel ‘Daily Horror Stories’:  https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCk1WJMX5xj1FHruveKH8gmg 

Hey Ontario, come on down to BetMGM Casino and check out our newest exclusive. The Price is Right Fortune Pick. Don't miss out. Play exciting casino games based on the iconic game show. Only at BetMGM. Access to the Price is right fortune pick is only available at BetMGM Casino. BetMGM and GameSense remind you to play responsibly. 19 plus to wager, Ontario only. Please play responsibly. If you have questions or concerns about your gambling or someone close to you, please contact Connix Ontario at 1866-531-2600 to speak to an advisor free of charge.

BetMGM operates pursuant to an operating agreement with Eye Gaming Ontario. Welcome to Dr. Creepen's Dungeon, a fine selection of four stories for you this evening, all loosely based on a theme of computer games. Despite what some of us may think, games are more than just a diversion. Consider this. If great literature can wield its power through nothing but black squiggles on a page, how much more can be done with movement, sound and color? First, we have two wonderful original stories by Freddy Graham, and these are followed up by two stories from spooky sea horror. Now as ever, before we begin, a word of caution. Tonight's stories may contain strong language, as well as descriptions of violent and horrific imagery. If that sounds like your

kind of thing, then let's begin. It's called the knock-knock game, or you need an empty room to play it. You'll knock two times. Wait for it and hear a loud knock from the other side. Whatever you do, do not enter the room. The room will be empty, but something will be in there. Is it a demon? The devil himself or God, an eldritch abomination? No one really knows. Maybe it's better not to know. I remember playing it as a kid. at my friend Thomas's house. Me, him, and Tobias. A fat and a bit

slow kid that Thomas used to bully a lot, but still hung around with because Tobias' parents were rich, so we had lots of cool games for Nintendo Ness and Sega Mega Drive, even the Mega C and 32X add-ons. I started to like Tobias more than Thomas.

He was always making horrible racist jokes and saying mean things about everybody. But we'd agreed to come over to his house to play a game he'd learn from a book called the necronomicon that his dad supposedly had a copy of. This was, of course, not the necronomicon of the mad Arab Abdul al-Sahred, written in blood and made of human flesh, but a hardback version. Still, it contained things like how to summon demons and how to raise the dead with necromancy. Or it did to Thomas anyway. He was a bit of a compulsive liar. His parents weren't at home.

So it was only us three boys in the house. We knocked on Thomas' bedroom door and waited for it. But nothing's happening, Tobias said while munching on a chocolate bar. He really didn't have a sweet tooth and was always eating sweets and drinking cans of soda pumps. And then a loud sound from inside of Thomas' room, like someone was really mad, punching the door from the inside. Well, I was scared as far. Fuck, almost pissed my pants, and carefully snuck to the door and peeped through the keyhole.

Inside, it was still empty. I want to go inside. Tobias dropped his chocolate bar on the floor, and me and Thomas had to hold him by the arms, so he didn't do anything stupid. Stop, you fat, stupid pig, you'll get yourself killed. Thomas shouted at him, a bit loud. Tobias started crying. I'll go first Thomas didn't seem to care

and knocked two times The knock was heard from the other room Are you a man or a woman? Thomas asked Two knocks signaling no Were heard from the other side Oh are you a demon or angel I asked it

Two knocks No again Is it safe if we come inside Thomas asked. Two loud banging sounds. No again, but it seemed angry this time. Maybe we should just stop, I suggested. Keep going, you pussy.

Thomas commanded. Tobias was still crying. He seemed to get more and more afraid. I couldn't blame him, really. You, are you getting mad? I asked it. One loud. bang. Yes, it was getting real mad. Are my parents alive? Thomas asked it.

Evil laughter from the other side, followed by two knocks. Tobias then knocked and asked, Can you speak? Yeah. It answered in a voice so creepy that both me and Thomas fell to the floor. We were frozen with fear, but Tobias wasn't. He knocked again. He, do you have any candy? He asked naively. Yes, Charles. Come inside.

I was trying to speak, but I couldn't get a word out. In what seemed like slow motion, I could see the fat kid turning the door handle ready to go inside. I was ready to go up and stop him, but Thomas held me down. So Tobias went inside the empty room and the door slammed shut. Well, I rushed up, but Thomas held me back. Don't be stupid. The fat kid's gone, but you're still here.

No one can enter the room for another 24 hours. I've got my parents coming. It'll be satisfied. I peek through the peephole. The room was empty. I called Tobias his name, but no answer. Thomas knocked and asked if it enjoyed the fat boy as a sacrifice. Yes.

The voice answered creepily. I just looked my former friend in the eye and left the house of evil to never return. Well, this was years ago. I'm grown up now and moved to another city. Living in a small one-bedroom apartment, I decided that I'd try to summon the thing again. I knocked on the door to the bathroom.

That's the only room where it could appear. A bottle's ready to piss in for 24 hours and I'd make sure no one would enter the bathroom. I knocked on the bathroom door two times and it knocked back to signal its presence. But the knock was not from the bathroom. It was coming from the front door to my apartment. I looked out and no one was there. So the moral of our first story perhaps is it doesn't matter how old you are. Don't meddle with things you don't understand.

Now it's time to move on to our second story. Grand Theft Auto 6. So, the new PlayStation and Xbox consoles are out. I of course got two of each. Hand controllers, headsets, all the shit you need. But most of all, a huge stack of games for each. Demon Souls, Spider-Man, some shitty game called Godfell. NBA 2K1, new watchdogs.

Dirt 5, Borderlands 3, and some Xbox games. But you know what? Fuck all those games. I know what you're really here for. The real winner. A game I believe. I and only I have. GTA 6.

Yeah, I was looking through the huge stack of games I bought. While smoking on some good shit, listened to Wap by Cardi B. I almost shit my pants when I saw her somewhat familiar, yet strange sights. A game by Rockstar called Grand Theft Auto. Six? The box looked just like the familiar box for the normal GTA5 game. Well, I'm sure you've already played on PS3 and PS4, and I knew there was going to be a version for PS5, and I'm sure in the future there'll be a version for PS6, 7 and 8 too. Oh, they really like sending the old

games to us over and over. But... Well, I was sure it wasn't going to be out yet. That was strange. Even strange that the box said six and not five. But I told myself it was only a printing error, probably. So I put the game into my brand new PS5. Holy freaking shit. The graphics were way, way above anything on the PS4 or PS5 or even my high-end PC.

Holy crap, it really looked like real life. So I started the game, way back in Liberty City, a parody of New York City from previous GTA games. But now it looked like real New York. Are you play as a kid from Rockstar's bully game, but now he's grown up. The streets were bustling with life, like New York. Braindead influencers filming themselves, teens twerking for TikTok. talk. People trying to sell you shit. Beggers, drug dealers. And then, my mom bust into the room.

Mom, you can't be doing shit like that. Remember when you did that and I was watching Mia Khalifa? Well, that was awkward. Don't be inside here smoking and touching yourself all day. You need to go outside and play. Hey, where's your friend John? Hey, what show are you watching? It's not a show, mom. It's my new game. And I'm calling John later. We're outside to do a smash video for YouTube. Smash video. What's that? Hmm. Oh, that game looks cool.

Better than all those bloody games you play like, Cowoodie. What? Hey, show me the game. So, I showed my mom the game. She was impressed, but well, I couldn't do any killings, buying drugs, or, you know, any of the other crazy shit.

just driving trying to abide the law. But, man, it was tempting to drive over some annoying team bitches, maybe even a priest, but, well, my mom pays for all my stuff, and I really don't want to be a loser and get a job like John. Busting my ass all day with no time to play. So the worst thing I did was driving in the wrong lane. My mom got mad and said,

oh, I would never get a driving license like that. And John came over. I let my mom play and showed him the game real quick. Then we grabbed my extra PS5 for the video. Hey, I'm letting John borrow my second PS5, I told my mom, but of course I was lying. Well, we were then outside. I threw the PS5 into the ground and John filmed. This is going to get some views.

Hose is going to be mad because the PS5 still saw out everywhere. They can't even get one to play with, but I got one to play. and an extra one to destroy just to piss people off and tomorrow we'll do the same shit with my extra Xbox We uploaded the video to YouTube I scrolled through the news real quick politics Boring sports Mneer murder rape drugs another school shooting some asshole driving in the wrong lane Kim Kardashian's nudes leased Ian too bad for her but a good time for me when I get home

Anyway, I'm gonna smoke and then sleep. Tomorrow, trying to play the game for reals and smashing the Xbox. Oh, and seeing how many views my video got. Fun times. Well, see you, losers. The second day. So we smashed the Xbox. Well, John asked if I'd give it to him because I had two and he didn't have any.

He even offered to pay it off. Well, I told him nothing in life is free and smashed it right in front of him. If we both have an Xbox each, I don't see the fun in that. The fun's me having two and he has none. Seems like my video from yesterday's blowing up. I got ten bucks in ad revenue. John's an asshole, as usual, and keeps talking about how that Xbox costs like 500 bucks. I keep telling him my mom paid for it, so it didn't cost to see anything.

Well, anyway, we got back home and I could finally show him the game. He was impressed, but... were perplexed. I didn't really understand how I could have this game from the future. It was like something I wasn't supposed to have. It turns out you can fly and get to both Vice City and San Andreas, cities from the previous GTA games. So we flew down to Vice City and went on a killing spree.

There's a split-screen co-op, so we let John play as Max Payne from the games with the same names. Really awesome how Rockster lets you play as him in this game. We picked up hookers and had out. fun or killed them afterwards so we could get our cash back of course shooting people in the face stabbing them hidden with baseball bats and dildos yeah gta lets you use dildos as weapons we even burn people the usual molotov cocktails were thrown and flamethrowers were used it was a bit disturbing i mean the graphics looked so real their skin melting running around screaming and in pain you could

could almost smell their rotten flesh. Well, got to be too much for John, so we decided to end it for the night. Tomorrow, we were going to San Andreas. I listen to the news again before going to sleep. Some psycho went on a rampage in Miami,

burning hookers and more. Pfeh, whatever, well, such for them, but I don't live there when I live here in New York City. The third day. I skipped class so I could get home early. John was still stuck in school. This time I took a flight to San Andreas.

Try to get a five-star rating with the police. One star gets you one police car after you. Two gets you two and at five stars, they're sending in all they got after you. Well, it was easy to do when you got a tank. Oh, I rolled over cars crushing them under the tank's track. I shot down police helicopters from the sky and then my mom entered the room when she was upset and showed me video footage of some madman in l.A. driving a tank shooting police it looks like your game mom told me the obvious well shit i'll stop playing i told her wow i went out to smoke something was weird with that game I looked online and no one should even have a copy of GTA 6 at this point in time. I mean, but it was just a game, was it not?

If those things I did in the game somehow were real, I'd really fucked up. I felt ashamed. I sat outside for hours. I was thinking, God, what if the cops knew? I had to go up again and destroy that game to make sure neither John or anyone else play. it ever again. I noticed how people were walking around mindlessly, like zombies, and I mean, I mean even more than normally when they're looking into their smartphone screens.

One of them brushed against my shoulder. I looked into its red eyes and saw its open mouth and arms reaching out for me. Holy fuck, she really was a zombie. Well, I hauled ass into my apartment complex, into my apartment and went straight from my room. I went into my bedroom and saw John playing the game with a huge smile on his face. Hey, there's an undead nightmare expansion. Oh, zombies, Bigfoot's, vampires, the end of the world and everything. If tonight's stories teach us anything, it's that the world of professional computer gaming can be a cut-rope business indeed.

Now, on the subject of razors, there's nothing quite like the feel of a close shave from a five-blade razor. Which brings me to the story of Harry's. The story of Jeff and Andy, two young men who were fed up with overpriced razors, and so started Harry's to fix the world of shaving. Knowing full well that there was only one way to ensure absolute quality, they bought their own factory. and by taking less profit, Harry's is able to offer the greatest quality products for a fair price. And tonight I introduced to you Harry's Trial Set, which includes everything you need for a close yet comfortable shave.

In your Trial Set, you get a weighted ergonomic handle, a five precision-engineered blade razor with a lubricating strip and trimmer blade, a rich, lathering shave gel, and a travel blade cover. So, get started shaving with Harry's today by claiming your trial set for £4.95. That's right. You can support my podcast and get your trial set delivered to you, including razor handle, five-blade cartridge, foaming shave gel and travel blade cover by going to harries.com

slash creep right now. Again, that's harris.com slash creep. Happy shaving, everyone. Well, some worry that video games are becoming too realistic. It definitely seems to be the case from our second story, hasn't it? Now, I want to today's third tale of the weird and macabre. I just broadcast the biggest Twitch stream of my life, but now me and my chat are scarred for life. I'm one of the biggest streamers on Twitch.

I play games spanning all genres, and my streams consistently get over 20,000 viewers. Oh, I love what I do. It's taken me many years to get where I am today and not a day goes by that I wish I was doing something else. Well, that isn't until the horrifying events of last Friday happened, which have shaken me to my very core and left me wondering if I'll ever stream again. The stream started normally. I powered on my face cam, loaded up my Twitch interface, and then went live. My view account immediately jumped to two and a half thousand and within a few.

minutes was at 10,000. Although this has been the norm for at least two years, watching that viewer can't rise so quickly still makes my heart race inside my chest. It makes me remember all of those streams that I did back in the day when five viewers meant that my stream was popping off and receiving even a tiny donation sent my head spinning through the clouds. Well, I greeted my chatting, then made a big announcement. For today's stream, I was not only going be playing games of their choice, but I was going to play them with randomly chosen subscribers. I wanted to do something special for my sixth anniversary stream, and the positive response was immediate. The chat board started filling up so quickly with comments and emotes that they

flew across my computer monitor faster than my eye could register. The event began successfully. I played a few matches of Overwatch with a guy who happened to be around my age, and who was hilarious and then dead by daylight with a girl who just finished high school. My stream quickly rose to 50,000 viewers and might have even reached 100,000 had things not turned out the way they did. As it stands, the stream took a frightening turn while I was playing with the third subscriber of the day, a seven-year-old kid named Tanner. Hello, Dee, he said after joining my Discord server. opted to call me by my nickname instead of my stream. a name.

Hey, buddy, I said. I could tell immediately by the sound of Tanner's voice that he wasn't any older than ten. For this reason, my initial thought was to discreetly find a way to dump him and then pick a different subscriber to play with. Well, it's not that I have anything against kids, I just felt uncomfortable streaming with somebody so young. I didn't want to do or say something that might upset him. I also wasn't sure how my chat was going to respond.

I have a zero-tolerance policy for bullying or negativity during my streams. The last thing I wanted to do was exploit this kid for my own personal game. When I turned my head to read the chat room, though, the comments were nothing but positive. Oh, he sounds so cute. Come on, Dee, play with him. Oh, I wonder what game he's going to choose. These comments and several dozen similar ones flooded my monitor within seconds of Tanner's voice ringing in my headset. So I knew that I had to play with him.

If I backed out, then there would be an uproar. I wish now that I'd listened to my gut feeling and dumped him rather than put myself and my chat through what happened later. Looking back, though, joining my Discord server might have been the best thing that Tanner could have done that evening, for it increased his chances of making it through the night. Welcome to the stream, I continued. Do you know what game you want to play?

Minecraft. He gave the answer that everyone in the chat had predicted, which spent them spiraling into awls and silly emotes. There was an innocence to Tanner's voice that made me like him immediately. I could tell that he was the quintessential kid. Fun-loving, excitable, and quick to laugh. Ah, Minecraft it is then, I said. Let's boot her up.

Okay. We were silent as we launched the game. I knew that as a professional I should be making small talk with him, but I just wasn't sure how to go about bantering with such a little kid. I don't have any younger siblings or cousins, and my wife and I haven't reached the point yet where we've decided to have kids of her own. Luckily, Tanner solved this problem for me. Hey, should we play in my world or yours, he said. Well, let's play in yours. I think everyone would love to see what you've built. All right.

He sent me an invite. I accepted it and then spawned into his world. Oh, come and find me so I can give you a tour of my... His voice was interrupted by the sound of shattering glass, which boomed through his headset so loudly I had to lower my volume. Based on the explosiveness of the sound, I figured that its source was close to his computer. Is everything all right? I said.

Oh, something just broke in the living room, he said. Let me check. I heard the muffled sound of him taking off his headset, then heard him quickly pick it back up and place it on his head less than a minute later. D, he continued, voice of frightened whisper. There's a strange man inside my house, and he just went into my parents' room. The stress in Tanner's voice convinced me that he wasn't lying. I could practically hear the tears forming in the back of his eyes,

I would have tried to comfort him if the phrases, Strange Man and Parents' room weren't ringing inside my head so loudly they were threatening to block out all reason. I felt like somebody had laced the Dr. Pepper bottle resting beside my mouse paired with acid. I was experiencing a bad trip, and this dream gone wrong was my own personal hell. Well, it was the realization that I was still maneuvering my character in Minecraft

that finally snapped me back to reality. Here, a child was in the middle of experiencing a life-threatening event, live on my stream, and there I was mining a tree for its logs with my bare fists as sub-wuf a lullaby pulsed gently through my headset. Well, the shame I felt at my selfishness, and forever caring so much about view counts and the fickle comments of my chat, still lines my throat to this day. I close down, Minecraft, yank my hand away from the mouse, and then place my focus solely on the microphone and the sound of Tanner's voice. Everything else that I normally cared about while streaming,

I buried under my desire to help this innocent kid, who probably fell asleep every night watching my YouTube videos on his iPad. Doing my part to save his life was all that mattered. Tanner, I said, you need to call the police immediately. Are you by a phone? Luckily, my voice came out steady. I was afraid that it would come out shaky, given the adrenaline pumping through my body like a drug.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the comments of my chat room whizzing across my monitor like a broken slot machine. I did my best to ignore them. My phone is in the living room, he said, voiced just above a whisper. I could tell that he was only moments away from crying. Don't worry, buddy. I'll call the police for you. Is there any place you can hide? Where are you inside the house? Are you in your room? Yeah, I'm in my room.

His tears had started falling full force, making his voice sound nasally. The distant scream of a woman erupted in my headset. The scream sounded painful and guttural, as if whoever was making it was having their vocal cords torn out one thread at a time. And for one of the only times that night, the chat became completely. still. You need to hide now, Tanner. Is your headset wireless? Yes, sir. Good. Take it with you and crawl under your bed. For the next few moments, all I could hear with sniffles and the rustling sound of Tanner sliding under his bed. I'm here. Are you safe? Yes. Okay, good. Stay put. I'm going to call the

police. But first, I need you to tell me where you live. Luckily, he knew. He knew. He knew. He knew. He his exact address, and I wrote it down using the pencil and paper I always keep in front of my monitor as soon as the words left his mouth. Good job, buddy. You're doing great. Hang on for a second while I call the police right. Don't take off your headsets. Don't leave me alone, Dee.

His voice was so laced with so much feeling as he said this, that for a moment I felt tempted to ignore the police and stay right there in the Discord server with him. This feeling quickly passed, though, has another scream, this time from a mail, exploded through my headset and sent the hairs on the back of my arms shooting into the air. I'm not going anywhere, I promise. This will just take a moment. Stay where you are. I quickly looked up the number for the police station in his city, which was in another state, so I couldn't just dial 911 on my computer and then pulled out my phone and gave them a call. "'Police department, please state your emergency,' said a woman's voice in my ear. "'I told her the situation in as few words as possible.' She paused for a moment before speaking,

presumably looking at whatever resources were in front of her. "'Our closest officer is thirty minutes away,' she finally said. "'He'll be there as quickly as he can.' "'Thirty minutes!' It was then that I realized how truly secluded Tanner's house was from the rest of the city. From my initial scan of Google Maps, I typed in his address on a fresh tab

while I'd explained the situation to the dispatcher, I could see how rural his neighborhood was. I doubted that it had a local Walmart, much less a regular police presence. The closest house was probably ten acres away, and the next one, Miles. Yes, said the dispatcher. You heard me correctly.

Is Tanner still online? in the chat with you? A rare slip-up and understandable given the unlikely of the situation. I'd heard if other stream was getting swatted before, but this made even that dangerous prank look like Charles' play in comparison.

Yeah, yes he is. Good. Is he still safe? He should be. I told him to hide under his bed. Tell him that a police officer is on his way that he needs to stay hidden until he arrives. I put my headset back on and relayed Tanner her message. He responded with a tear clogged.

Okay. And then I lifted my phone back to my ear. Right, I told him. Thank you. From here on out, I want you to stay in the chat with him. Put me on speakerphone so that I can hear what you're saying, so that I can advise you should any new developments occur. Well, at the moment the word speakerphone had left her mouth,

I curse myself in my mind. Why hadn't I thought of that? Here I was surrounded by thousands of dollars worth of gaming equipment and I was too stupid to think of utilizing a technology that even my 80-year-old grandfather could use. I hit the speaker button, placed my phone in front of my keyboard, and then nozzled my headset back over my ears. The sound of Tanner's shallow breathing greeted my flesh. He sounded like a small and wounded animal,

caught in the middle of a railroad track as a freight train. came hurling towards his head. Hang tight, buddy. The police officer is coming as quickly as she can. You're doing great. Thank you, Dee. I always knew that we'd be friends. Before I could respond to such a touching remark,

a scream so guttural ripped through the headset that I nearly reared back in my chair. Are you okay? I said, trying to keep my stomach acid from rising into my chest. "'They're in the living room now,' he said. "'voice, almost a sob. "'I think he's killing them.'

"' Several more screams burst through the chant. "'He's killing them. "'Okay, keep your voice down, Tanner, or he'll hear you.' "'My command was greeted by whispered sobs. "'I imagined Tanner's voice shrieking in my ears "'as he met the same fate as his parents "'and sped along the officer's patrol car in my mind. Another volume of screams berated my headset, flooding my ears with a twisted crescendo of guttural yells.

These screams seemed to go on for an eternity, and then my headset went silent. Several agonizing minutes later, the dispatcher's voice sounded through the phone on my desk, telling me that the officer had just arrived at the front of the house. This news came much earlier than the initial estimate of 30 minutes, and filled my body. body with joy. Keep hiding, Tanner, I said. That police officer had told you about just pulled into your driveway. He's here to help you.

Okay, D. A few moments later, the sound of gunshots burst through the headset, followed by another round of screams. Terror gripped my lungs at the sound. Coming in, guns blazing like that, I'm sure hadn't been in the officer's plan. Something must have happened. My guess was that he'd be. been ambushed and I desperately hope that he'd been the one to come out on top.

What are you hearing now, Tanner? I said. He was silent for a few moments and then said something so horrifying that it's haunted me to this day and will continue to do so until I'm old and grey. The man just said, dumb F-word cops. Their heads don't come off like they used to. I slump back in my chair. blood draining from my face like water down a drain.

I'm sure if I would have looked up at my monitor, I would have seen a ghost staring back at me. My already sky-high stress levels went plummeting into the stratosphere, and I couldn't tell up from down. Their heads don't come off like they used to. Dumb F-word cops? The sound of Tanner's horse and innocent voice projecting the words of such a sadistic man will echo for an eternity in the darkest chambers of my mind.

So horrified was I by the thought of what had happened to that poor police officer, tears nearly filled my eyes. Now wasn't the time to let my emotions get the better of me, though. Given that there weren't any other cops in the immediate area, I knew that I was the best positioned person to help Tanner escape this situation alive, and, as much as it frightened me to think about, in one piece. Just sit tight, Tanner, I said,

voice almost as hoarse as his. I'm going to find a way to get you out of this, I promise. I trust you, said Tanner. He'd stopped crying long ago. I could tell he'd fallen into survival mode and respected him all the more for it. Although he wasn't my kid and I'd only known him for such a brief time,

my newfound responsibility towards him made me feel as if he'd been born into my arms. Okay, hang on for one second. I need to talk to the woman on the phone again, okay? Okay. I took off my headset and leaned in closer to my phone. Are you still there? I am.

The officer you sent is dead. Are you sure? How do you know? Tanner heard him get rear-headed. Well, and you have no other way to say it. I can hear the man who killed him talking to himself about it in the living room. Jesus Christ! Hearing this brief comment from the dispatcher filled me with almost as much dread as the thought of hearing Tanner's last breath,

billowing from my headset. For it was the moment that I realized just how much of a dangerous turn the situation had taken. If a professional police dispatcher, who dealt with emergencies daily, was shocked enough to make such an out-of-character comment, then something truly extraordinary is taking place. I've sent a SWAT team on the way, but it'll take them at least 35 minutes to get there. And this time when I say 35 minutes, I mean it. We were lucky that Officer Brunswick was able to arrive at the scene so quickly.

The SWAT team's arriving from town, which is a lot slower going. I pictured Officer Brunswick's body lying in the middle of Tanner's living room, bloody and headless, and thought that he was anything but lucky. What do we do then? He doesn't have that much time. You need to tell Tanner to flee the house the moment he has the chance. His house is in a densely wooded area. He can take refuge in the trees until the SWAT team arrives.

Ask him if he has any windows in his room. Okay, good idea. I grabbed my headset from its place on my desk and then threw it back, back over my ears. You still with me, Tanner? Yes, sir. The way he sometimes called me, sir, was so endearing that it only made me like him and fear for him even more. Okay, you need to run out of your house the moment you get the chance and hide in the woods until more policemen get there.

I know it's scary, but you have to trust me. Are there any windows in your room? No. Tanner's answer made me place my head in my hands What kind of room didn't have any windows? I don't think I understand You said you're in your room right Yeah but my room's in the basement

Of course it was At this point I couldn't see any variations of this situation That ended with Tanner leaving the house alive He might as well have been stranded on the moon For all the good anybody could do for him down there The thought that he might get pulled out from under his bed at any moment, screaming bloody murder, before the sadists slashed him to pieces, burdened my every breath. Before I had a chance to consult with the dispatcher about this new development, Tanner's

whispering voice once again greeted my ears. He's looking for me, Dee. I can hear him walking around upstairs. He keeps saying that he's going to find and kill whoever's hiding from him. heart just about leapt through my chest. Once I took a breath, I thought about it, though. It made sense that the intruder now knew that there was somebody else inside the house. For why else would a police officer arrive at the scene, gun drawn, unless somebody had reported him?

Everything's going to be fine. Just stay where you are. More help is on the way. You don't understand. He's coming down the hall towards the basement. I can hear his footsteps getting closer. Tanner's voice started speeding up. I have to do something, Dee.

I can't stand on my bed. He'll find me too easily. I heard the sound of thumping footsteps approaching through my headset. Oh my God. He's at the top of the stairs. I heard the rustling sound of clothes sliding across carpet. Tanner! I shrieked.

Tanner! The cacophony of a body tumbling to the ground raised my eardroats. I heard the sound of a knife splitting flesh, and then a scream so guttural it made all of the previous screams I'd heard that night sound like laughter. I nearly passed out in my chair. I felt like my heart was being torn from my sternum, and I really just heard what I thought I'd heard. At Tanner, that innocent little boy who just wanted to play Minecraft with his favorite streamer, really just been massacred in his own bedroom. I couldn't stomach the thought. This couldn't be happening.

The universe couldn't be so cruel as to rob this innocent child of his beautiful life. Just as I'd given up hope that I would ever hear Tanner's voice again, his voice rang out, loud and clear, through my headset. I got him, deed, he said. I tripped him as he came down the stairs, and then murked him with his own knife, just like you would have done. I looked over at my monitor, and through the thousands of Pepe hands and poggers I could see whirling across the chat at a nauseating pace, my eyes locked onto one word, which stood out among all the emotes like a signpost glowing through the windows of a speeding car. Justice! Well, as proud as I am of Tanner for taking the situation into his own hands and ending the life of that miserable wretch, I am having difficulties finding myself.

again after such a traumatic experience. The memories of that stream haunt me daily and plagued my sleep with brutal nightmares. It's not the sadist that haunts me, although I think about him a lot too, but the prying, invisible, 50,000 pairs of eyes that were watching the events unfold in real time through my stream. They'd loved every minute of it. It was the best dream they'd ever seen. and probably ever would. It was this thought that caused me to have a realization. They'd watch the same thing again if they were ever given the chance.

If it happened in a different time, a different place and to a different kid, they would drop everything they were doing and glue themselves to their computer screens, as if they were watching an episode of Game of Thrones. After my experience that night, I learned that human beings flocked of violence, just like junkies in desperate need of a fix.

They search for it on the dark web. They buy it on discs, they read about it in books, and sometimes, if they're lucky enough, they even watch it unfold live on Twitch. In this way, I've learned that we are all like the sadist. We might not act on our violent impulses, but we revel in them nonetheless. We need the tanners of the world to suffer.

But without them, what else is there to entertain? us. And that's why, my friends, the biggest dream of my life scarred me for life, and why I will never stream again. As a storyteller, it's my aim to bring comfort and joy to the lives of many. One thing I've never been comfortable with is trusting myself to invest wisely. Of course, I'm aware that investing is one of the best ways to grow wealth over the long term, but I've never fully trusted the way that traditional stock brokers make it so complicated for everyone to start investing. And that's why I'm so enamored of free trade. Free trade is on a mission to remove such issues by breaking down the barriers and opening up stock investing to everyone. Now, some brokers

can charge up to £12 for every trade, whereas free trade doesn't charge any commission fees, so you can invest and keep more of your profits. Some of the investment apps I see just don't appeal to me at all, but this award-winning investment app is being used by over 250,000 people. It's fully authorized and allows you to buy and sell stocks, other investment trusts, all without commission, and it's been the winner of the British Bank Awards for two years in a row. Its design is extremely intuitive, so even if you're a beginner in such matters, you can now start investing from just two pounds. Importantly, free trade isn't involved in speculative products, and they don't do day trading, no, they're all about long-time.

I'm investing with a transparent pricing model in no hidden fees or inflated spreads. With a variety of account types, they make it so easy for you to get started. So, do what I did. Go to freetrade.io slash creep. And if you register and fund your account, you'll get a randomly allocated free share worth between £3 and £200, such as Greg's, Right Move or Apple. One more time, that's free trade.com.com.com. when you invest your capital is at risk the value of investments can go up as well as down and you may receive back less than your original investment well something for all of you streamers are there to consider a now once again it saddens me but time for me to introduce our last story for

this evening my sister was the most harmless kid on the block then she started playing call of duty are the thrill of competition, does different things to different people. For some it excites them and sweetens the very air in their lungs. For others it scares them, and causes them to shrink from challenges like small rodents being swept toward a towering inferno. Most human beings fall somewhere in between these two extremes,

and their lives are all the better for it. However, there is a small portion of people like my sister who don't, and therefore should be regarded as some of the most dangerous people on the planet. I remember how my little sister, Courtney, looked before I introduced her to call of duty. She wore her hair in a ponytail, placed animal stickers on her shirt, and smeared too much lip gloss, which she routinely snuck from mum's makeup drawer, on her lips. In other words, she was a quintessential ten-year-old girl, eagerly, free-spirited and energetic to the point that she skipped everywhere she went.

The word innocence trail behind her every step, just like her chronically untied shoelaces. Everybody who knew her gushed over her every breath, and her smile was so sweet that it made even the most cold-hearted of teacher's blush. But then I introduced her to call of duty, and that sweet little girl soon became swallowed up by the behemoth, so frightening that just a thought of what she's done fills my eyes with tears. I'd remember that fateful day as if it were yesterday Rick started a chain of events that's not only ruined my life but the lives of countless others

Her transformation began last month After I called her into my room and placed a controller in her hand I just returned home from college for the summer And given how much she'd missed me I wanted to do something fun with her Since you've been bored this week I said Why don't we play a game together

She looked down at the controller, which dwarfed her tiny palms, as if it were an alien object. But I've never played before, she said. You know, video games are boring. Don't Brittany and Tristan play Xbox? Those were two of her best friends. They do, but not when I'm around. They know I'd rather go outside, which they say is only fun if I'm there because I know all the good games. I see.

Look, don't complain that I'm not spending enough time with you then. the rain's supposed to continue for another week and the park will still be money for at least two days after it stops but play an x-box all we have i knew this was a lie but i thought of spending my summer watching animal planet with her on netflix the other alternative filled my stomach with dread and besides i wanted to try something new she'd enjoy playing sports ever since you was a little girl and had a competitive edge i thought she might get a kick out of playing call of duty with me if i would have known then you'd just what kind of monster gaming would make her. I would have gladly spent the entire summer watching Animal Planet and would have dissected and applauded every episode

as if it were a new Christopher Nolan movie. Fine, she said, placing her fingers on the triggers. I'll give it a shot. I booted up Call of Duty and launched a private lobby. I then loaded us into the game, took a few months to teach her the controls, and we started playing. I let her win the first match. She screamed victoriously the moment she reached the kill limit.

I could practically see the dopamine firing off in her brain like bullets from the assault rifles roaring on the television screen. I would have put my arm around her shoulders if she didn't hate being touched so much. Little did I know that by giving her this first taste of success, I sent the competitive urges she already possessed spiraling into the stratosphere, opening the doors for the chaos that was to follow. I let her win the second match, which only intensified her pleasure. The moment the game ended,

she whooped, hollered, and beat her hands on the floor as if she just won the lottery. Although I thought her behaviour at the time was extreme, I figured she was just enjoying the game. Video games excited me too at her age, still do, so I never imagined that her over-excitement could lead to anything other than a new hobby. It was when I beat her during our third game, though, that I grew cautious of her wild emotions.

Immediately after the word defeat flashed across her screen in bold red letters, she slammed her controller on the ground and glared at me with so much hatred, I felt like I was staring into the eyes of the little girl from the exorcist. That's not fair, she screamed. You cheated. I looked at her with widened eyes, stunned by this sudden burst of anger. I didn't cheat, I said. I just play it better than you that match. Nobody can win every game, Courtney.

Even the best players in the world occasionally lose. Play me again. Fine. This time I played my best and beat her so badly that angry tears filled her eyes the moment the defeat graphic reappeared on her half of the screen. Before I'd had time to calm her down, she reared back her arm and threw her controller with as much strength as she could muster into the TV.

Ah, the force of the blow shattered the glass into dozens of pieces, and sent the bass careening off of my shelf and onto the floor. Silence then consumed the room, broken only by her violent breathing. I was so stunned by the sight of the wreckage in front of me that I didn't speak for over a minute. When I did finally manage to get my vocal cores working, my voice was filled with so much anger that I trembled as I spoke. I can't believe you just did that.

I said, do you know how much that TV cost me? You're a cheater, she said, rising to her feet. I'm not a cheater, I'm just better than you. I've been playing Call of Duty longer than you've been alive. You just wait. I'm going to practice, and the next time we play, I'm going to beat you so bad you're going to quit the game forever. Before I had a chance to respond, she flew from my room, heard herself out the front door, and disappeared into her friend Brittany.

his house. I called my dad and told him about the incident. He said that he'd punish her when he got home and to try my best to calm down. So I hung up the phone, took a deep breath and tried to move past the event. Luckily, I had a spare TV, so I cleaned up the mess, hooked it up, and continued playing. My dad called me an hour later. I need you to go get your sister from Britney's house, He said, his voice was higher pitch than normal, as if he was stressed. Why? What's going on? I said. Why can't she just walk home like she always does? Because she's just broke Britney's arm and locked herself in her room. Brittany's mom has been trying to get her to come out for 30 minutes, but Brittany either curses at her or ignores her.

Apparently they were playing Call of Judy and things got heated. Courtney's still in there playing as we speak. I need you to coax her out. I'm stuck in traffic and won't be able to get home for another hour. My body filled with numbness at the thought of Courtney breaking anybody's arm, much less her best friends. She was so young and so docile. I'll do my best, I said.

I'm heading over there now. Thank you. He said, I'll be there as soon as I can. Brittany's mom opened the door moments after I rang the doorbell. Oh, thank God you're here. Brian, she said, wrapping her arms around my neck. I'd feared she'd berate me upon my arrival, given the horrifying injury my sister had just inflicted on her daughter, and was relieved to see shock reflected in my face rather than rage.

Cordeny's still in Brittany's room, she said. Follow me. I followed her up the stairs. He paused in front of a white door plastered with hello kitty stickers. It's Brian, Courtney, I said. please open up it's time to go home go to hell she said voice ringing loud and clear from under the doorway despite the grenades exploding through the tv i flashed brittany's mom a surprised look the shock in her eyes matched my own she's been saying worse things to me she said she called me a bitch a few moments before you got here oh that's so unlike her i look back at the door and imagine and Courtney sitting on Brittany's bed, face glued to the TV screen.

I stood there for several minutes, unsure of what to do. But then an idea formed in my mind. Hey, Courtney, I said, try my best to keep my voice calm. Sounds like you're getting pretty good in there. How about we do a rematch? You might beat me this time. She was silent for so long. I feel the battlefield dancing in front of her eyes had swallowed up my words.

but then her voice rang out from under the door. Only if you promised not to let me win. I promise. A few moments later I heard her feet crossing the floor. I stepped back as she opened the door, then smiled when I saw her face, as if that day had been the most normal day of our lives. Come in, she said.

The moment I passed into Brittany's room, she slammed and locked the door behind us. My first reaction was to pick her up and carry her out of the house. Given the distance I'd have to carry her though, I decided to only use physical force if I had no other choice. So I followed her over to the bed and sat down next to her. She already had the private lobby pulled up, and within moments you'd spawned into the game.

Remember, she said, you promise not to let me win. I'll know if you're not trying. Okay, I said. Well, my plan was simple. I get one kill away from victory and then fumble the match at the last second. Allowing her to get a kill or two to win the match shouldn't come across as suspicious and would hopefully calm her down enough for me to persuade her to come home. I could tell my plan was working as we traded kills.

So captivated was she by our match that she forgot I was sitting next to her. The moment of truth arrived when the score reached 49-48 in my favour. She'd set the kill limit to 50, so my plan was to throw the last two fights and hand her the victory, much to my horror. I forgot that my gun class caused my character to drop a live grenade upon death. So after allowing her to stab me, one of these grades exploded under her feet and sent her character hurtling off a bridge, handing me the victory. The moment the word defeat flashed across her screen, a shriek so guttural ripped through her throat that my body broke. out in chills. Realizing I was losing control of the situation, I threw her over my shoulder and carried her thrashing back to our house, a feat which took me over 20 minutes. When my dad arrived

home a few minutes later, he barged into Courtney's room and screamed at her so violently I thought he was going to give himself an aneurysm. Eventually my mum returned home from work and calmed him down. I fell asleep that night to Courtney's whispered songs. I woke to find all my toiletries covered in peanut butter. Given how allergic I am to peanuts, if I wouldn't have looked down and noticed this substance before brushing my teeth or rubbing on deodorants, I would have ended up in the hospital. Courtney snuck into my room in the middle of the night and tried to poison me.

Whether this was a threat or a genuine attempt to ending my life, I don't know. All I know is that it was just the beginning. I covered my nose with my hands to avoid the stench of the peanut butter. Even inhaling a small particle was enough to swell my throat shut and sent me thrashing, eyes bulging to the ground. I then backed out of the bathroom as fast as my trembling feet would carry me and ran into my parents' room. It was only 8 in the morning, and Saturday, so they were still asleep in their bed. The moment they heard my thundering feet on the carpet, their head shut up like loaded springs. Brian, said my mum.

What's wrong? There's some peanut butter all over my bathroom. I said, Courtney tried to poison me while I was sleeping. They became very still. I watched the colour drain from their faces as they turned and looked at each other. Show us, said my dad. I led them through the hall and into my bathroom. Their eyes bulged the moment they saw the peanut butter caked onto every object in sight.

Dear Lord, said my dad, voice shaky. I'm just glad I noticed in time, I said. It's unbelievable that she tried to poison me like this. She hasn't snuck into my room since she was five, and that was because of a nightmare. What are we going to do? said my mom. She turned her head and looked at my dad, whose eyes were so wide and they looked like they were made of glass.

Well, we're going to talk to her, of course, he said, voice resuming its usual gruffness. Then we're going to contact a counselor and get locks for our doors. We followed my dad to Courtney's room. Courtney, he said, pounding his fist on the door. Open up, we need to talk. Kiss my ass, she said. What did you just say?

to me? I told you to kiss my ass. Are you going deaf now as well as Bob? My father froze as if a gallon of cold water had just been poured down his neck. Never before had Courtney said anything so vulgar to him. She was a daddy's girl and normally cried when he even hinted at being angry at her. She would hurl such a biting insult at him. He was very conscious about his receding hairling, boggled our minds and left us standing dumb. in front of her door like frightened deer. The sound of gunfire drifted under her door. What on earth is that sale? said my mom.

Sounds like she's playing call of duty, I said. How is that possible? She doesn't have a game system in there. I'll be right back. I ran to my room. The moment I noticed my missing TV and Xbox, I placed my hands on my head. Not only had Courtney tried to poison me during the night,

but she'd also stolen my gaming set-up. I thought of her sitting in the darkness for over six hours, playing call of duty with an insidious grin, dominating her face, filled me with dread. I ran back into the hallway and told my parents the news. This is getting serious, said my mom. Deep stress lines rippled across her brow. Her hair, which was normally beautiful and well kept,

drifted below her shoulders in uncombed ringlets. What should we do now? I asked. We're going to break in and rip that goddamn controller from our hands. He said, I'll teach her to talk to me that way. I watched as he placed his hand on the doorknob and twisted it until his face turned red. However, when the door still didn't budge, he banged his fists on the frame and yelled with so much force my heart skipped a beat. "'Cortney,' he said, "'turn off the game and open the door right now.

"'I'm not playing around.' "'His voice was drowned out by an exploding grenades. "'How about you talk to that slut of her wife of yours instead?' she said. "'You know, she likes it when you get angry. "'It excites her. "'That is not our little girl in there,' said my mom, "'voiced just above a whisper. "'Cotney would never say anything like that.'

"'Well, she just did.' said my dad. He wheeled around and grabbed my shoulders. How did this all start? You were with her yesterday. Tell me what happened. She was bored, I said. So I asked her to play call of duty with me. I let her win the first two matches, but then she started losing and she became so angry she smashed my TV and stormed over to Brittany's house. It was like she'd become a different person. I've never seen it get so angry. My dad let go of my shoulders as Courtney released a torrent of extremity so vile my stomach turned. This isn't happening, said my mom, placing her hands over her ears. That's not my little girl in there. That does it, said my dad. I'm putting an end to this right

now. He rammed his shoulders so hard into the door that the nearby pictures nailed to the wall tumbled to the floor. No matter how hard he pushed, though, the door remained shut. She must have blocked the door with her furniture, he said. He placed his hands on his knees to catch his breath. I knew buying those old cabinets was a mistake. Those things weigh half a ton. How did she move them then?

I said. For the first time that morning, my dad was at a loss for words. I have an idea, he finally said. It's going to cost us a little money, but I think it's necessary at this point. He turned toward me. Brian, we'd have the baseball bat from the garage. Okay, I said. I sprinted down the stairs two at a time,

as if I were dodging the bullets exploding from the assault rifles firing in Courtney's room. I returned a few moments later with the baseball bat and handed it to my dad. All right, everybody, he said, grasping the bat with both hands. Stand back. My mum and I backed up to the stairs. A few months later, the bat struck the door, filling the house with the sound of ringing aluminum. The first blow was a success,

and created a hole just large enough in the middle of the door for my dad to stick his face into. Courtney, he said, sticking his face into the hole. I need you to turn the game off. his words were cut off by a guttural scream so powerful and pain-filled with this scream that i retreated deeper into the hallway i watched in horror as my dad pulled his face away from the door revealing a pink dart jammed into his eye Courtney must have been waiting for him on the other side and stabbed him the moment he revealed his face That's what do you get for putting a hole in my door asshole

Said Courtney Boyce just loud enough to drown out my dad's twisted screams Nobody's gonna stop me from playing call of duty Not even God himself My dad's ear bursting shrieks mixed with the guns firing from Courtney's room She stabbed me He wailed He tried to say something else, but agony distorted his voice beyond comprehension.

Oh, honey, said my mom. She dropped to her knees beside my dad, who was sprawled on the floor like a man flayed and crucified. I'm going to get you. Before she could finish her sentence, a torrent of blood spilled onto her jeans, causing her to pass out on the floor next to my dad. I stood there by the stairs looking at them, stunned for what felt like, hours. Never in a thousand years would I have imagined the situation taking such a gruesome turn. Courtney had only been playing call of duty for a little over a day. Was it possible that her

personality could change so drastically in such a short amount of time? It was as if a malicious spirit, a demon, possessed her the moment I put a controller in her hands. I heard the sound of raspy breathing drifting from the hole in her door and tore my eyes from my mum's lifeless body. When I saw Courtney's corpse-like face grinning at me through the splintered wood, I nearly clasped to the floor beside her. Her skin was so pale it looked like she hadn't received sunlight in months. Her brown hair had also turned black from grease and sweat, and hung over her shoulders in moss-like clumps.

What truly frightened me, though, was her eyes. They were glowing red from rutsured blood vessels and reflected so much hatred I thought I was looking into the gulfs. gaze of a blood-lusting wolf. These eyes, which peeled away at my flesh like over-sharpened knives, couldn't belong to Corny. They were too evil and too ancient to belong to a ten-year-old girl. It was then that she said something so terrifying it's haunted me every day since.

Just wait until I gave my hands on a gun, Brian. She said, voice unnaturally deep. Then I'll show you what I've really learned. She laughed and retreated deeper into the room. A few moments later I heard the roar of firing sniper rifles and exploding grenades as she resumed playing my Xbox. He yelled my dad through his tear-stained screams. Call the police. We need to get her out of there. The word police sprung me into action.

I pulled my phone from my pocket and dialed 911. A few moments later a man's voice greeted my ears through the speaker. I'm 1-1. Please state your emergency. My sister just stabbed my father in the eye, I said, voice rushed. He's losing blood fast. What is your address? I stated my address as quickly as I could. Helps on the way, he said.

Where's your sister now? She's barricaded herself in her room. Is she injured? No. Does she have any weapons on her? More darts, for example. possibly a knife or a gun. I paused for a moment to think. We did have a gun in the house, but Courtney had just admitted to not having it. Was she lying? Had she stolen the pistol from my

parent's closet during the night? The thought sent chills rippling down my spine. Well, she definitely has more dots, I said, voice breathless. She might have a gun too. Let me check my parents' closet to see if it's still there. Only do so. if you're safe, said the dispatcher. I ran into my parents' room and bolted through the closet door. I then reached for my dad's pistol case, which he kept locked under an whole pile of shirts, and shuddered when I found it empty. I raised my hand back to my ear with trembling hands.

Yes, I said, she has a gun. Okay, said the dispatcher. Take cover, the police be there any moment. Two patrol cars are pulling onto your street as we speak. As if on cue, I heard sirens wailing in the distance. Less than a minute later, red and blue lights erupted through the windows beside the front door. The police are here now, I said to the dispatcher. Thank you for sending them so quickly.

Please stay safe. I hung up the phone and greeted the first officer that passed through the door. Why are you out in the open? said the officer, gun raised. You need to get to safe. safety, let us handle your sister. Yes, sir, I said. I stepped aside as six more cops entered the house. She's in her room.

We'll take care of it. Now, get out of you. Gave him a final nod, then bounted from the house. My father's panic shrieks followed me out of the door, like whales from a tornado siren. I watched a handful of paramedics load my parents into an ambulance, then waited in agony for over an hour. for the officers to extract Courtney from her room. Even after they cut the power, she refused

to move aside the oak cabinets blocking her door. As a result, two officers broke through the mountain of wood with battering ramps. Courtney fired a single shot as they apprehended her. Luckily it missed the officers storming into her room and struck the wall in the hallway. The officers carried her kicking and gnashing through the front door. Every tendon in her body was fully stretched, and her face was filled with so much rage she looked inhuman. I watched in horror as they stuffed her in an ambulance and sped off, sirens blaring down the street. A police officer approached me a few moments later. Would you like a ride to the hospital? He said. I'm sure your sister and parents want you by

their side. Of course, I said. Thank you. If I'd known then the horrors that. that I was going to witness at the hospital, I never would have stepped into the officer's car. Instead, I would have bolted from my lawn as fast as my legs would carry me, and continued running until I had a collapse from exhaustion, or God struck me dead where I stood. An orderly greeted me the moment I arrived in the emergency room lobby. Are you Brian? she said, voice hurried.

Yes, I said. How are my parents and sister doing? Your dad's undergoing surgery, and your mom's in the lab getting a head x-rayed. The doctors suspect she has a concussion. Both of them are expected to recover soon. Your, um, sister on the other hand. Her voice trailed off, lost in the sea of shock and confusion that had become her face. She's struggling right now.

I could tell by the way her voice trembled as she did this, that the word struggle was an understatement. What she truly meant was that Courtney was going back shit crazy somewhere deep inside the hospital. and not a damn person on duty knew what to do with her. The memory of Courtney's corpse-like face grinning at me through her splinter door returned to my mind, causing me to shud her. Just wait until I get my hands on a gun, Brian.

Then I'll show you what I've really learned. I could only imagine what kind of chaos Courtney was inflicting in her hospital room. Given the dangerous amount of medical equipment at her disposal, I prayed that the doctors and nurses were monitoring her every, movement. If you'll follow me, said the orderly, I'll take you to her. She's been asking for you ever since she arrived. I followed the orderly out of the lobby. He passed into a white-tiled hallway that reeked of bleach, rounded a few corners, and then paused in front of a wooden door, so large that two gurneys could easily have passed through it simultaneously. Standing beside this door

were two men and one woman. One of the men was wearing scrubs, so I took him to be a doctor. The other man and the woman were wearing dark pants and white waistling jackets. I figured they were either psychiatrists or counsellors. Maybe one of each. Hello, Brian, said the woman. I'm Dr. Brown, the resident psychiatrist. I've been trying to get your sister to talk to me for some time now, but she's refusing to talk to anybody but you.

Yeah, she, um, isn't herself right now, I said, I think she's sick. We've checked her vitals and everything looks good, said the man, wearing the scrubs. Our technicians are analysing her blood, but we doubt that anything abnormal will show up. Other than a few ruptured blood vessels in her eyes, she's perfectly healthy. I suffocated under the weight of the doctor's gaze. I never imagined that I'd be having such an alarming conversation about Courtney, that an activity as common as playing a video game could turn her into such a monster and boggle my mind. I know this is hard for you, said Dr. Brown, but we need you to get her to talk.

Once she talks to you, our hope is that she'll open up to me and Dr. Armani. How she's been behaving since she arrived? I asked. If you sedated her? Is she still acting violent? We've tried sedating her, yes, said Dr. Amani. But everything we give her is no effect.

He paused for a few moments and cast his eyes toward his shoes. I've never seen anything like it. Dr. Brown flashed him angry look what we're trying to say is that we need your help you're comfortable going in there and talking to her i promise you'll be safe she's heavily restrained i'll give it a shot i said my voice sounded weak even to my own ears thank you one of our orderlies bill will be in there with you he's been keeping an eye on her since she arrived i nodded and passed through the door what i saw made my heart spin inside my chest. Shattered, bloody glass covered nearly every inch of the floor.

The cabinet doors on the walls were either dented or hanging on by a single hinge. In the right corner of the room languished the tattered remains of an EKG machine. When I saw Courtney's corpse-like face grinning at me through the shadows, I resisted the urge to hightail it back into the hallway. Even though she'd been at the hospital for under an hour, her condition and her condition had exponentially worsened. Dark circles, the color of plums lined her eyes and stretched halfway down her cheeks. Blood filled her corneas from dozens of ruptured blood vessels.

If her eyes didn't make her face look horrid enough, snots caked her nose like dry concrete. However, her hair is what shocked me most. Where it had once been thick and smooth, it was now thinning and wiry. How it was possible that she was losing her hair didn't know. All I knew was that the sadistic specter grinning at me through the darkness was still my little sister and I needed to do everything in my power to help her. Oh, I'm glad she made it, Brian, she said.

Her voice was raspy and deep, as if she's been smoking for 20 years. The sound made my hair stand on edge. Me too, I said, trying to. to keep my voice steady. I've been worried about you. I'm here to help you recover. How delightful. Would you like some food? You look famished. I can have Bill fetch you some peanut butter crackers. I turned round and glanced at Bill. He was sitting on a stool beside the door and looked to be about 45. We made eye contact for a few seconds before he lowered his eyes to the floor. His slump posture reminded me of an abused dog afraid of receiving another kick from his master.

I forced my gaze back on to Courtney. How can you say that to me? You know that to kill me. The way Courtney's grin widened as I said this was all the response I needed. If you want to kill me, then why didn't you do it last night? You had every opportunity to. Because you owe me another match. I'd never let a little bitch like you die before I had my way with them.

Your days of playing Xbox are over, Courtney. You're too competitive. On the contrary, my career is just getting started, and neither you nor those shit-faced doctors carrying behind the door can do anything to stop me. Those doctors want to help you. You're not yourself. Playing Call of Duty did something horrible to your mind, but you're going to get help now, I promise. I don't need any help.

I've never felt better in all my life. Do you honestly think I'm going to let those assholes put up? me in a madhouse? Hell no. You don't have a choice, Courtney. Not after everything you've done. I need a choice. Not when I have a plan. And now that you're here, I can finally put my plan into action. If you won't play me in the game, and you can play against me here. And Courtney burst through the straps restraining her to the bed and sprinted through the door. She bought multiple syringes from her hospital gown as she ran. The stunned stairs of Dr. Brown and Dr. Armani greeted me as I hurried into the hall.

Did she just break through her restraints? said Dr. Armani. Yes, said Dr. Brown. We need to find her before she hurt someone. Dr. Armani called the police. She looked at me. Brian, please wait in the lobby. I know she's a sister, but I don't want you getting hurt. Hell no, I said. You need me. I'm the only person who can either calm her down or give her what she wants, whatever that may be. We rounded a corner and came upon a nurse writhing on the ground with two syringes jammed into her throat. Oh my God, said Dr. Brown, leaning down next to the woman. The nurse was covered in blood and shivering.

I watched as Dr. Brown cradled her head in her lap and yelled frantically for a gurney. I stood there for a few more moments, staring back at the nurse in shock. But after realizing that every moment, she was a little bit of her head. moment I wasted put more distance between myself and Courtney, I continued jogging down the hall. All around me nurses and orderly scrambled to lock down the patient's rooms. The entire ER resembled an ant hill turned on its head, and Courtney was its diabolical queen. I rounded another corner and came upon her next victim, an elderly man wearing a hospital gown. He also had a pair of syringes protruding from his throat and was gargling on his own blood.

Two nurses grabbed him by the arms and pulled him inside a room as I flew by. How was Courtney managing to run so far without being apprehended? It was as if every person who dared stand in a way met the same gruesome fate of her syringes or fell victim to her speed. Where the hell could she be? It was then that I had a realization so frightening it caused my heart to gallop. She was fleeing to my parents' rooms. Luckily, the orderly who greeted me in the lobby had handed me a paper containing my parents' room numbers before departing, so I knew their locations.

When I arrived at my father's room, a gruesome sight greeted my eyes. The bodies of two nurses laid lifelessly in front of the door, mangled and bloodied. I stepped around them and peered through the door. When I saw my father's corpse hanging awkwardly off his hospital bed, severed throat brushing against the floor, my stomach leapt. A few moments later a doctor thundered up behind me. He placed his hands on his knees the moment he saw the carnage. Dear God, he said, he threw himself to the floor and performed CPR on one of the nurses. I bolted down the hall in the direction of my mom's room, praying that I reached her in time. However, by the time I reached her room, Courtney had already been there, and my eyes

were greeted by a similarly gruesome scene. At this point I feared Courtney might be unstoppable. The hallways were littered with her victims, and not even the security guards who were storming through the halls in pairs had managed to locate her yet. Brian, said a weak voice. I looked up to see my mother's blue eyes staring at me from her hospital bed. I bolted over to her and wrapped my arms around hers.

you hang in there mom i said i'm going to get you help blood gush from the puncture wounds in her stomach you need to stop your sister before she hurts anyone else she said she's travelling through the vents i followed her eyes to the partially ajar ceiling tile above her head you need to tell the doctors so they can a knife whirled through the air and punctured her sternum she let out of gasp as the blade pierced her heart, as if she'd been doused in frigid water, then closed her eyes and slump forward. Courtney grinned at me from the ceiling panels. Her eyes glowed like fire in the shadows, and her lips were pale and covered in blisters. Looks like I can add one more point to my score, she said. You need to catch up quickly, Brian.

You're still at zero. You're a monster, I said. a heartless demon. Sometimes you have to be a monster in order to win, and I'm winning big time right now. You better catch up quick, or you'll be a loser forever. She nodded at the knife sticking out of my mother's chest. That one's for you, by the way.

Consider it a pity gift. And she slivered back into the vents like a hunting xenomorph. I pulled the knife from my mum's chest, which pained me as if I was ripping the serrated blade from my... my own sternum. Luckily, the ceiling was fairly low. Using the bed as my jumping off point, I grasped the vent and pulled myself past the tiles. The moment my knees reached the metal surface, I sighed with a relief. Then I crawled forward through the darkness, knife raised. Courtney's raspy breathing echoed incessantly through the darkness. Never in my life had I so

desperately wanted a flashlight. If it wasn't for the occasional crack in the metal panels, darkness would have consumed my eyes. I tightened my grip on my knife. The handle was long and smooth and fit my fingers perfectly. Would I have the courage to jam it into Courtney's heart? Oh, I shudder at the thought of feeling her sternum crunch under my trembling hand. Despite her rampage, she was still my sister. Could I truly end her life, no matter how much. miserable it had become. I tried to think of a way to avoid such a gruesome end, but every time the seed of a plan germinated in my mind, her laughter yanked these plans out by their roots. And so I silenced my mind and hunted her through the darkness. A few turns later, a blinding torrent

of light greeted my eyes. When my pupils adjusted to this sudden change in luminosity, I looked down and saw the tattered remains of an air filter. Dozens of boxes and shelves, overflowing with medical equipment, filled the room below. I scanned the aisles for Courtney. She remained nowhere to be seen. I lured myself into the room, knife raised. Other than my hurried breathing, not a sound could be heard. I imagine Courtney's blood-filled eyes peering out from behind or inside one of the boxes scattered on the floor and resisted the urge to shudder.

After a minute of searching, I came upon the corpse of a security guard. His body was riddled with stab wounds, and such severe laceration spanned his neck, his skin looked like the desolate remains of an exploded balloon. The lights went out. If it wasn't for the single emergency panel shining above the door, the room would have plummeted into complete darkness. I squinted my eyes against the blackness. The shelves loomed over me like square-shaped apparitions. My frightened state, I imagine Courtney crouching on top of each of them. Knife raised and ready to pounce on me the moment she got the chance.

I sidestepped toward the center of the room. A laugh burst out behind one of the shelves. Courtney, I yelled. Is that you? My question was answered by another laugh. That's enough. You win. You beat me, okay.

This doesn't have to go. on any longer. But it does, Brian, said Courtney. Her voice was three tones too deep. There are no forfeits in this game. I'm going to kill you and prove once and for all who is the better player. My legs quivered. I raised my knife in preparation to defend myself. This isn't a game, I said, voice frantic. Those people you killed are really dead. Mom and Dad are really dead. and soon you will be too I screamed as a knife passed through my thigh

I wheeled around and tried to grasp Courtney with my free hand but my fingers were greeted with nothing but air another laugh boomed from the unseen places in the darkness my thigh seared with pain I cringed as blood dripped down my calf in waterfall-like bursts

don't pass out said Courtney's voice from the blackness we're just getting started I stumbled toward the sound of her voice you're sick Courtney I said but I can help you you just need to control yourself we both know you're not going to kill me

is that so heard footsteps whisper across the concrete but before I had time to react her knife had slashed my other thigh I tumbled to the ground oh I didn't hurt you did I said Courtney, vanishing once again into the darkness. Those are just flesh wounds.

Don't tell me you can't handle a few little cuts. I thought you were stronger than that. My breathing was too shallow to respond. Colorful dots filled my vision. I resisted the urge to vomit. Courtney must have sensed my defeated state. For a few moments later, she stepped out from behind one of the boxes and approached me. You're much weird.

weaker than I thought, she said. She placed a hand under my chin and tilted my face toward hers. Her skin looked so twisted and decayed, I hardly recognized her. She kicked my knife from my hand and sent it skidding under one of the shelves. She then stared at me with her blood-filled eyes for so long. I felt like I'd been hypnotized. I almost regret killing you. She finally said, playing with you has been so much fun I want to do it over and over again until my knife has no more parts of you to cut unfortunately no one likes an ungracious winner

so this final slice will have to do she raised a knife above her head this is goodbye I wish I could have said you played well but you know mum and dad taught us never to lie I tracked the knife as it soared through the air with my ever-darkening vision What happened next I can only attribute to reflex.

Just as the knife passed within an inch of my jugular, I shot my hand up from my hip like a gunslinger drawing his pistol and stopped the blade with my palm. Then, ignoring the pain shooting up my arm, I punched Courtney in the nose so hard, her cartilage crumpled beneath my knuckles. She crashed to the ground. Before she had time to ride herself, I kicked her in the temple.

air flooded from her lungs as she lost consciousness. The sight of my little sister's lifeless body filled me with both pleasure and despair. I tore the knife from her hand, leaned over her emaciated ribs, and prepared to drive my blade through her heart. No matter how badly I wanted to end her miserable life, I couldn't force myself to lower the blade. Now that she was unconscious, her complexion improved. which gave me hope that maybe one day she could be cured of whatever sickness had overtaken her mind. So I let the knife tumble from my fingers, took a few step backwards and collapsed to the ground beside her feet. A police office had passed through the door just as I was falling unconscious.

I tried to call out for help, but blackness overtook my vision before I could even open my mouth. Courtney has been in a psychiatric hospital ever since. None of the doctor's treatments have helped her. Her incessant laughter echoes through the halls of the asylum with such frequency that multiple nurses have resigned in the month following her arrival. Today Courtney spends most of her days tethered to her bed, screaming my name over and over, desperate for a rematch. I live in constant fear of the hour she breaks free from her restraints and assaults me in my room. What is wrong with my sister? I don't know and probably never will.

All I know is that I regret the day I had the opportunity to kill her, but pity stayed my hand. So the very definition of something escalating quickly in our final story there. My thanks to tonight's two wonderful authors, Freddy Graham and spooky sea horror. That's it for this week, but I'll be back again next, and I do so hope you'll join me once again. Until the next time, very sweet dreams and bye bye.