A loud beeping sound jolted me awake. I was dreaming about a beach, with Paige, and then came the beeping sound. I slowly opened my eyes. There was no sunlight shining through my window. By the looks of it, it was still dark outside. What time was it? I sat up and looked towards the thing that was beeping. It was my radio, flashing the time. 5:30 a.m. Time to get ready for school... has it always been this early? I shifted out of my bed, and turned off my radio. I slowly dragged some clothing on my body, but not without putting on some deodorant.

        I then trudged towards the kitchen. No one else seemed to be up, but there was a light on in the living room. I pulled a bowl out of a cabinet, along with a box of cereal, and prepared some breakfast for myself. A few minutes later, my brother also came walking in. He grabbed a bowl and poured himself some cereal too. We sat there in silence for a while, the only sound being the spoons hitting our teeth.

        "Did Dad already leave for work?" he asked me.

        "Yeah... he left the living room light on for us though," I responded, finishing my breakfast.

        "Mom is still asleep?" I asked.

        "Yeah, she doesn't get up till later on Tuesdays... you know this..." he said. I could have sworn she made us breakfast everyday. I stood up and placed my bowl in the sink.

        "Just trying to create small talk..." I retorted.

        "Weird," he said.

        "Well don't take too long, the bus will be here any minute," I said.

        "Just finished," he said, also placing his bowl in the sink. Then we gathered our school stuff, put on a coat, and headed out the door. We walked down to the road, and waited. A few moments later, the bus pulled up. I made sure he got on first, then I got on behind him.

         "Over here Hudson!" I heard a female voice say. Must be Paige! I scanned the seats till I saw her near the back, waving her hand.

        "What's up lover?" I said, sitting down beside her.

        "Nothing much," she said.

        "Did you call me Hudson?" I asked with a smile.

        "Yeah, you look like a Hudson today," she said.

        "What does that even mean?" I asked.

        "You look like a selfish, nihilistic, egocentric prick," my brother said from behind me.

        "What's that supposed to mean?" I asked, taken aback.

        "Nothing, forget it. You look like Brock," Paige said, placing her hand on mine.

        "No seriously, what does that mean? Also why are we taking the bus? We walk to school!" I said. Something felt off. REALLY off. I couldn't place it.

        "Hey calm down! You are talking crazy," Paige said, lightly squeezing my hand.

        "No... no! Where is the daylight? Why did my dad leave for work before we were even awake? Why didn't my mom make breakfast?" I asked.

        "I don't know what you are talking about, but you're scaring me," Paige said, looking at me with concern. Her eyes were watering, and I could tell that I was bothering her.

        "Nothing... I don't know... woke up on the wrong side of the bed I guess," I said.

        "Don't worry about it too much," she said, and gave me a kiss.

        "That makes me feel much better! I don't know what got in me..." I said.

        "It happens to the best of us," she said. She was right. I was just having some sort of mental breakdown. The rest of the bus ride I kept apologizing for my outbreak. She just looked at me with a smile and told me it was okay. In the end, I knew it was okay. The rest of the day went by smoothly. Eventually it was my last period, and I was ready to go home.

        "Good morning class," the teacher said.

        "Morning Miss. Daniels," the class responded. Miss. Daniels? We had a sub today?

        "Today we'll talk about monopolies throughout history! Starting with Standard Oil in 1880..." the teacher started. She talked like she taught the class before. Perhaps she was a history major? She didn't even look at a schedule, nor a paper, nor instructions of anysort.

        "Was Mr. Hooper sick today?" I asked her at the end of class.

        "Who?" she asked.

        "Mr. Hooper? I think his name is Brian?" I said.

        "Oh the janitor? No, I don't think he is out today... I don't really talk to him," she said, sitting down at the desk.

        "Janitor?"

        "Yeah? You asked about him, didn't you know? Now I have to go, I teach a college class in the afternoons," she said, leading me out into the hallway.

        "Yeah... you have a good day..."

        "You too!" she said. Then she walked away. Why did this keep happening to me? Why do things seem to change, or nothing seems to make sense? It was like I was a computer, and I kept on buffering. It seemed like every time something didn't add up, the page was refreshed, and something was changed or deleted, and I didn't know any better. It felt as if a presence larger than myself critiqued what I saw and what I knew. As if I were disconnected from the internet, and my brain knew there was more, but was powerless to do anything. I needed answers.

        I wandered around school for a while looking for anything else that was different than I remembered. All the classes were in the same places. I checked each and every one, read each and every plaque, and nothing was different. Then I checked to see if all the teachers were where they originally were. Nearly all the teachers were the same. There was no teacher that changed from a Mr. to a Ms. Miss. or Mrs., or vice versa. The only thing I recalled as different was Mr. Hooper. Perhaps if I found him, he could give me an answer.

        I wandered around the school once more, this time going places students usually don't, down hallways the teachers only use, into rooms that were empty or under construction. Eventually, near the back of the school, I found a small corridor that led to a room reading: Janitor's Closet. I knocked on the door, and waited. No answer. After a few moments, I knocked again. Still no answer. I tried the knob, and the door opened. I slowly stepped in, and carefully shut the door behind me.

        "Hello Brock. I see you finally figured it out," Mr. Hooper's voice said, nearly making me jump out of my skin.

        "Jesus Christ!!" I hissed.

        "Sorry didn't mean to spook you. I was about to answer the door when you walked in," he said.

        "I almost had a heart attack! And what do you mean figured it out? I came to you looking for answers!" I exclaimed.

        "What questions do you have? Come, sit," he said, pointing to a desk that was missing the attachable table.

        "Well, this may sound stupid, but I think I'm in a coma of sorts? Or this is the Matrix? Today has been vastly different than my day yesterday, and no one seems to believe me!" I said.

        "Can you remember the day before yesterday?" he asked me.

        "Well duh, of course! I... I did something... and went to school probably... and... uh... you know, normal daily things..." I said.

        "What are your 'normal daily things'?" he asked.

        "Well... I'm pretty sure I woke up for school a lot later... and my mom... I think she makes breakfast everyday. I most likely walk with Paige to school. And you, you are the history teacher..." I said.

        "You sure do make a lot of assumptions," he said.

        "Well things have been off and I don't know why! That's why I'm here," I said.

        "What are you positive about?" he asked.

        "Paige. I know I love her, and she is a part of my life. And you, I know I recognize you from somewhere. That's about it..." I said.

        "Why do you think that is?" he asked.

        "I don't know! I should be asking the questions!" I exclaimed.

        "Humor me," he said.

        "Well like I said, a coma, or trapped in a simulation kind of thing," I said.

        "Uh huh," he said.

        "Look, I know it sounds completely insane. I know I'm talking about a period of two days that I can remember, which feels fast to realize something this big. I just can't shake the feeling that something is wrong, or off," I said.

        "If something was wrong, wouldn't you think that something would try and stop you from realizing the truth?" he asked.

        "I think something is! When I start to get paranoid, something happens, and I feel better. Nothing has happened yet to make me feel better though," I said.

        "Well what things have made you feel better?" he asked.

        "I'm not sure exactly... maybe food? The first time I felt off I ate some food and felt better. Food makes everything feel better though," I said.

        "Maybe it was a specific kind of food. Or a specific person made it. What about all the other times? What made you feel better then?" he asked.

        "Paige does. She makes everyone feel better, it's just her natural attitude," I said.

        "Well, like the food thing, is there something specific she does that causes you to feel better?" he asked.

         "A kiss? Maybe? I would think that also makes everyone feel better," I said.

         "Well that's all I can give you as an explanation," he said.

         "So am I right? Is that what I figured out? I'm asleep in some way?" I asked.

        "Look, I can't say much. If you were asleep, I would be a part of the dream, and my knowledge is your knowledge," he said.

        "Well how come you don't act like everyone else? Why don't you try and convince me I'm wrong? You did ask if I figured it out so you must know something more than I do. Yesterday I think you were one of the things that threw me off. That's why I'm here today," I said.

        "Perhaps I'm an incarnate of the part of your spirit fighting to escape this," he said.

        "Maybe... well there must be some way to tell if this is all real or in my imagination right? Do you know how to do that at least?" I asked.

        "No clue. Your knowledge is my knowledge, remember?" he said.

        "I get it... thanks for talking to me..." I said.

        "Anytime. Come back sometime and tell me what you figured out," he said as I walked away. I just nodded, and exited the room. After that, I had no reason to stay in school, and I left. I walked home, musing over how to tell what was real and what wasn't. I also tried to figure out why I was asleep in the first place, if I actually was asleep. Could it have been some horrific accident? Or did I choose this fate? If I choose to be this way, why was I trying to escape? Was I forced to be this way?

        First I tried the most common way to tell. I pinched my arm as hard as possible. That was a no go, because it definitely hurt. Perhaps my dream was real enough to generate the specific feeling of a pinch? Next I tried to just ask myself and others if I were dreaming. It seemed like a smart thing to do, but I already wasn't sure if I was dreaming or not, and the one person I asked just looked at me like I was crazy.

        Then I began to think. In most dreams, you never really see yourself. Perhaps if I look in a mirror, I would be distorted because I was dreaming! I ran home and straight into the bathroom. I walked in front of my mirror and... there I was. Perfectly fine. Nothing different. What else could I do? I once heard that reading things in dreams is weird, because if you focus, the text will distort, blur, disappear, rearrange, or otherwise alter. I pulled out my history book, and read the first page. I then shut the book, opened it, and read the first page again. Not that.

        The last thing I could think of was how in dreams you never seemed to turn on a light. Lights were just automatically on. I went over to the switch on the wall, and flipped it on and off. The light turned on and off. The light was on when I got here, perhaps if I walked out and back in it would be back on? I walked out, waited a minute, and walked in. Still no luck. Either this was a vastly complicated dream/simulation, or I was just plain losing my mind. What else could I possibly do that could change the simulation? Commit crimes?

        "You know you want to forget her, no, you NEED to... You killed her... If only you had kept your mouth shut... Now, you could either live with the guilt for the rest of your life... Or, you could come with me..." a voice said to me. It was like a thought had just popped into my head. It was like a memory long forgotten was forced to my mind. I didn't like what the thought said. But what exactly did it mean? Suddenly there was a knock at the door.

        "Hey Brock! Answer the door!" I heard Paige say. I brushed off the thought and went to the door.

        "Hey," I said as I opened the door.

        "Where were you after school?" she asked.

        "I... I had to make up a quiz... for history," I lied.

        "Oh? That sucks. I can tell you don't look too happy. Anything I can do?" she asked.

        "Sadly no... it's something I have to deal with..." I responded.

         "How about a kiss?" she said. That did sound nice after the day I had. Then I remembered what Mr. Hooper said to me. Perhaps this was a refresh thing...

         "No, uh, I have bad breath right now..." I said.

        "Come on, you know you'll feel better!" she said, taking a step forward.

        "No no, I think I'm getting sick too, and I don't want you to get sick," I said, taking a step back.

        "Since when do you care about that kind of thing?" she asked, taking another step forward.

       "Well I'm just worried about your wellbeing..." I said, pushing past her and exiting the house.

        "What's wrong? Did I do something wrong?" she asked.

        "No! No... I just... can't..." I said.

        "I can tell you are seriously distressed Brock! Come here, I can make you feel better!" she exclaimed.

        "No, you can't... I'm sorry," I said. Then a thought occurred to me. If this was a dream, perhaps I could control it. I thought really hard, trying to make her disappear.

        "What are you doing?" she asked.

        "Nothing! Just go! I'll see you tomorrow!" I said.

        "I'm not leaving you like this! The only time I would leave you was if..."

        "If you died..." I said, interrupting her. No. That can't be the solution.

        "I'm not leaving you. We have everything together, we can be happy!" she said.

        "You aren't real!" I exclaimed. 

        "Look at me! I'm right here! Of course I'm real!" she said.

        "Please leave. I don't want to lose you again. This is all in my head... this is all in my head..." ( muttered. Then I concentrated. I knew what needed to be done.

        "Brock! What are you doing? Where did you get the pistol?" she asked, looking at me in fear. I cocked the gun. She then started to cry.

        "I have to go... I can't stay here... it all is too perfect... it isn't right! I remember now... it was my fault... my fault you were gone... and I never said goodbye. I never told you that I loved you," I said.

        "Put the gun down! We can be together forever!" she exclaimed, her tears now streaming.

        "No, we can't. Because you aren't real. I already lost you," I said, my tears matching her own.

        "Please..." she begged.

        "I love you..." I said, and I shut my eyes. There was a loud bang. Then silence.