If At First, You Don't Succeed, Let The World Bleed

I'm Adam, known in the gaming world as "TheBold," and I've been a prisoner in my room for as long as I can remember. 

 My short, unkempt, blonde hair and bloodshot eyes tell the tale of my existence—a never-ending video game binge. Life had lost all color, and I couldn't even recall the last time I'd stepped outside or spoken to another human being.

 My space had transformed into my sanctuary, my fortress, but also my cage. The walls were adorned with posters of fantastical worlds and distant galaxies, offering a glimpse of the adventures and excitement I'd abandoned for the safety of pixels on a screen. The familiar hum of my monologues had become a constant presence in my mind, echoing the relentless monotony of my life. "What's the point of it all? Why bother with the outside world when the virtual one is so much more predictable, so much more controllable?"

 The digital realms had been my escape, and I reveled in the power of my online avatar. I'd conquered dragons, explored forgotten dungeons, and saved entire virtual kingdoms. But in the real world, I was a recluse, a mere shadow of the adventurer I aspired to be.

 Then came that fateful evening as I delved deeper into a particularly immersive game. The news report unexpectedly intruded on my self-imposed isolation, shouting for my attention from the second monitor. The headline pierced through my numbed state, and I couldn't help but watch, for once, breaking silence.

 The screen displayed a world in turmoil, a reality unraveling in ways I had never imagined. People were running, their fear streaming through the screen, and the eerie sound of sirens pierced the air. The newscaster's voice trembled as she described the unexplained outbreak.

 "Unusual behavior," she said, and a chill shot down my spine. The video showed people attacking one another, their movements grotesque and unnatural, as if something had possessed them. The line between my digital fantasy and the natural world blurred. I was still determining where one ended and the other began.

 One by one, my online friends disconnected, their desperate cries for help fading into an eerie silence. As the nightmare played out on my screen, I couldn't ignore the ominous growl at my door. It was as if the virtual horrors had manifested right outside, and there was no denying the harsh reality any longer.

 At that moment, I finally realized that I had a choice: continue to be confined in my self-imposed prison or seize this opportunity to break free. The weight of depression that had shackled me for so long began to lift, replaced by a sudden surge of adrenaline.

 With trembling hands, I reached for the baseball bat, a relic of a hobby I'd left behind for far too long. I was preparing to confront the authentic monsters lurking on the other side of my door. My heart pounded, my mind raced, and the walls that had held me captive for so long were about to crumble.

 I understood that this might be my only chance at redemption, a way to break free from the chains of depression, junk food, and video games. It was time to face a real apocalypse head-on, to embrace the unknown, and to prove that even a homebody like me could become a hero in a world that had plunged into chaos.

 That's precisely what awaited me as I stepped out of my long-neglected house and onto the street, clutching the baseball bat with white-knuckled determination. 

 The once-familiar suburban street was now a nightmarish tableau of destruction. Blood splatters painted the pavement, and the wailing of sirens had given way to the guttural moans of the infected.

My heart raced, my blood pumped with adrenaline, and I ran headlong into the vortex. With every swing of my bat, I dispatched the abominations that crossed my path, their viscera splattering with sickening intensity. It was a gruesome and surreal dance, but it was liberating. Each blow felt like breaking free from the chains that had bound me to my self-imposed prison.

 I continued down the street, leaving a trail of chaos in my wake. The oppressive weight of depression was lifting, and my old habits had no place in this world of violence and survival. I reveled in the newfound sense of power and control over my surroundings.

 My mind was singularly focused as I moved with determination through the nightmare that had become my neighborhood. Amid the chaos and terror, the idea of a fresh start tugged at my consciousness. It was more than just a new room; it was a chance to rebuild my life from the ground up.

 As I gleefully slayed zombies, my neighbors fell one by one. Their cries for help and pleas for mercy were met with deaf ears, as I couldn't afford to hesitate in this brutal world. I had to keep going, keep pushing forward.

And then, I saw it. Amidst the chaos and destruction, at the edge of the street stood the most beautiful house in the neighborhood. It was a two-story house, its pristine white walls standing in stark contrast to the surrounding devastation. The garden, with vibrant flowers and perfectly manicured lawns, looked like an oasis of serenity. 

 The windows gleamed with cleanliness, and the scent of a blooming rose bush filled the air.

The sight of the house was both awe-inspiring and surreal, like a mirage in a nightmare. I approached it cautiously, my battered baseball bat still in hand. It represented a promise—a promise of a new beginning, a chance to escape the torment of my past, and the opportunity to break free from the prison I had constructed for myself.

I stood at the threshold, gazing at this beautiful house, my heart pounding and my eyes filled with hope and disbelief. The scent of blooming flowers and freedom in the air enveloped me. It was a moment of clarity in a world gone mad, symbolizing a brighter future and a second chance. The thought of a new room and a fresh start beckoned me, filling me with a renewed sense of purpose and determination.

And man, the house, with its pristine walls and serene ambiance, was a stark contrast to the chaos of the outside world. As I explored its empty hallways and fresh rooms, a sense of calm washed over me. This place had an eerie stillness, a tranquility I hadn't felt in a long time.

 I kept walking through the house, and I noticed the portraits of the family that once filled these walls with laughter and love. Their eyes seemed to follow me, their silent gaze like a reassuring presence in this otherwise empty space.

 "I see you," I whispered to the portraits, acknowledging their silent watchfulness. "I hope you don't mind me being here. I had to find a new place, a new beginning. The world outside is so chaotic, and this house... it's like an island of serenity in the middle of a storm."

 The portraits remained silent, their painted smiles frozen in time, and their eyes bore into my soul with an unsettling intensity. It was as though they were listening to my every word, and their silent approval or disapproval weighed on me.

 "I know you've seen it all," I continued, walking through the rooms and exploring their elegant décor.

As I spoke to the portraits, I made my way to the master bedroom, my footsteps echoing in the empty house. I stood by the window, looking out at the tranquil garden outside, and the soft rustling of leaves and the distant chirping of birds provided a moment of solace.

"I know this might sound strange," I whispered to the portraits as if seeking permission from an unseen presence. "But I need this room. It's more than just a place to sleep. It's a chance for me to rebuild my life, to leave behind the chains of my past. I need a fresh start, and this room... it represents that for me."

 The room remained silent, but I felt a strange reassurance in the stillness. It was as if the portraits had heard my plea and accepted my promise.

 With a sense of gratitude and renewed purpose, I settled into the master bedroom, feeling like I had finally found a place to leave behind the past and embrace the promise of a new beginning. The peaceful aura of the room allowed me to put aside the loneliness and despair that had haunted me for so long. It was in this tranquil space that I began to believe that there was hope, even in the darkest of times.