Chapter 17

Vanessa left the Starbucks where she worked and walked home through her Round Rock neighborhood. Her first week back on the job had reached its end. Forty hours of making overpriced caffeinated drinks and she hardly thought about what happened to her the previous summer at all. 

When she got to her small studio, her new chocolate Labrador rescue greeted her at the door. His name was Simon, and he was three years old. He'd only been with her a few weeks, but the place already smelled like his heady dog aroma. She didn't mind one bit.

"Hi, Simon," she said. "Hey, boy."

She gave him a pat on the head and rubbed him behind the ears. Once he'd sniffed her to his satisfaction, she fetched his leash and hooked it to his collar. They walked three miles through the neighboring greenbelt. She listened to a mix of fun but forgettable pop music. No vaporwave, mallsoft, signalwave, or anything wave. No '90s alt-rock that reminded her of her dad. Just upbeat, unoffensive bubblegum. 

Simon marked on trees, got in a growling match with a poodle, and tugged hard on his leash when he saw a flock of ducks. At the sight of the slobbery canine, the ducks took to the stream, changing from a flock to a raft. 

It was early February, and it felt like winter was already over. They tended to be short in Central Texas, but seventy-five degrees in February was ridiculous. Not that she was complaining. Before she knew it, it'd be sweltering again. Best to enjoy the temperate climate while she could. By the time she and Simon got home, the sun was headed down and she felt pleasantly spent from the walk.

She made herself a dinner of chicken breast and brown rice. Cooking was a new thing for her. Her therapist said learning a new skill could help her self-soothe. Imogen also said the man who'd attacked her couldn't have been her father. 

"So, who was it?" Vanessa had asked.

"Someone who meant you harm and knew about your past," Imogen said. "In your traumatized state, you saw him as your father."

Vanessa wanted to believe that.

After she ate, she logged onto Steam to see if there were any deals on cool-looking games. A week back at work, it only made sense she should find things to spend money on other than bills. It was good to find ways to enjoy herself. She didn't really go out much. Sometimes she went to her mom's place for dinner. Sometimes her brothers joined them. Other than that, her job, her walks, and weekly sessions with Imogen, she stayed home. Sometimes she got bored, but it was a routine and routines were good.

She clicked through a variety of visual novels and multi-platform RPGs in her recommendations queue. Most of them had psychological or supernatural horror elements. She hadn't logged onto Steam since before everything happened, and these suggestions had been tailor-made for a person she no longer was. It made her sad and reflective. She didn't even know where to start looking for different types of games. How long did it take to undo one's algorithming? Was it even possible?

To pass the time, she decided to keep clicking, hoping to find something somewhat less triggering than the others. Three recommendations later, she saw something that nearly made her drop her laptop. She stared at the ad, expecting it to change into something else because what she saw couldn't possibly be real, and the distinctions between real and unreal were important to remember. But after several seconds, the image remained. 

The game was called Rusted Blood: Escape the Amusement Park. The game art showed six characters expressing various emotions from terror to rage to determination. They were all there: Wendy with her Karen hair and workout clothes, Cullen with his sportscoat and glasses, Werth in his police uniform, Kayson with his face tattoos, and Hannah in loud colors. Vanessa stood front and center. It could be no one other than the woman she saw in the mirror each morning. In the background loomed rides and structures in various stages of dilapidation. She recognized all of them from that day she'd awakened in that place surrounded by those now-dead strangers.

Vanessa closed Steam, then closed her laptop. Then she knelt beside the dog bed where Simon slept and rubbed him behind the ears to remind herself that she was real.