terminal://memory_room/lily_f.moriarty/still_water.log

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I had to throw myself into the fire, even if it meant everything would go up in flames.

— When I was ten, I had a best friend. His name was Ed. He was the best thing that ever happened to me when I was a kid.

Cassie opened her mouth as though to protest, to let anger live so that nothing else could, to throw herself onto the embers too; what did she care about this story?

— And together, we played a game on his family computer. We loved that game so, so— so fucking much. And one day, as a damn kid, I woke up in that game. (She opened her mouth again, and I raised a hand, patiently.) I was all alone, I was a little girl, I was lost, and I had no idea how or why it happened, but it did.

Cassie closed her mouth. Her eyebrows were still furrowed, but she was listening, really listening, as though something had stopped fighting.

— That’s how it all started. As I grew older, I learned how to get around all of these, like, realities. I learned how to manage the portals, how to get in and get out, and I made a shit-ton of rules surrounding the whole thing to protect me and others.

Silence. On the coffee table, our glasses of water hadn't moved.

— It’s not something I chose, Cassie. It fucking happened and believe me, god, believe me when I say that I’ve spent hours wondering if I was crazy, doomed, or both. And I’ve probably spent an equally enormous amount of hours wondering why.

— So am I from a game? In your, in, fuck, in reality zero or whatever, am I, is my world a game you just happen to ?

She made a vague gesture with both hands.

— To appear into?

— No. It’s not.

The lie burned my lips a little. Technically, it wasn't a lie. Not really. I clung to the branches.

It was too soon.

[...]

Cassie stopped pacing.

— Is that why you came here? To become a doctor?

— Not really. It’s, like, I don’t know why certain realities become accessible. My faith is sometimes telling me that it always happens for a reason. Maybe it was medicine. Maybe it was you. I don’t know.

It was her. I knew that. I didn't say it.

— Okay. Your cave, then. The place you took me. It’s reality zero?

— No. It’s home.

She sat down again.

— What do you mean, it’s home? she asked with a small, broken laugh.

— I don’t mean it like that, Cass— It’s, it’s literally what it is. It’s my home. It’s the place I’ve been living in when I’m not… Elsewhere. It’s not, well, it’s a reality, but—

I buried my face in my hands.

— It’s not home if you’re not in it.

Without a sound, Cassie nodded.

I looked at her face as though it were the prayer I still believed in.

— Then take me back.

— What?

The word had slipped out.

— Take me back. I’m not saying I'll stay long. But I want you to explain the damn cave to me.