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You haven't touched yours, though it's steaming in your lap. (Hot chocolate on a nice chair: your Aunt Ruby would throw a fit.) Your stomach has turned. There's Rudy— there <span class="mu-i">has</span> to be another explanation— but it's not just him. The red stuff is getting creative. Your parlor is intact, but glance out into the hall and the wallpaper is writhing. The air stinks of mud. Your bad eye is gone. If you open a door, you'll comprehend what's been done with you, and you'll regret it. Positive thinking.
"It was probably for the best," Virginia says.
"What?"
"What happened to him. I don't know how, but I'm sure it was part of some kind of... some kind of plan. The universe works in mysterious ways."
You stare into a cloud of hot chocolate steam. "Like, it was his destiny?"
"His destiny? Maybe something like that. It was meant to be, I mean. For whatever reason, it was important that he... passed away. Meaningful."
Virginia is inside your mind, but you're inside her skull, and you already loosely scraped her memory of when it happened. You're not dwelling on it any longer than you have to, but it didn't look meaningful. It looked like he got exploded into little bits. "He lived his entire life just to die?"
Virginia has to think about this. "I'm sure he contributed other—"
"That was his destiny? To get exploded? That's horrible! That's—" There's a pressure behind your eyelids. "That destiny <span class="mu-i">sucks.</span> It's one thing if you're destined to be a famous heroine, but that— he just sat there and let the universe tell him what to do? Or... or God tell him what to do? Or whatever it was? You have to fight it!"
"Um, I'm sure—"
"You can't let it <span class="mu-i">win!</span> You can't sit on your stupid hands and watch your life spiral into one big horrible mess! You can't <span class="mu-i">die!</span> He can't... unless it were noble, like he nobly sacrificed himself by exploding, but he didn't even do that. He just <span class="mu-i">died.</span> And it was <span class="mu-i">lame.</span>"
Virginia looks sad again. "I'm just trying to say that I don't think he suffered, and— I mean, I'm sure the universe wants me here, too. You, too. I really am grateful for the nice drink, and..."
"The universe wants <span class="mu-i">me</span> here?"
She wisely sips on her nice drink.
"It wants me <span class="mu-i">here?</span> It wants me in a— a—" You slam your mug down. "In a stupid fake memory place? While I— I'm— I'm <span class="mu-s">dying</span> out there? It's my destiny to sit here and die, Virginia? I'm supposed to have goop come out of my mouth and die? I'm supposed to have some stupid horrible Manager-thingy trick me into its stupid brain and trap me and I die? That's my destiny? You think I should sit and give up because that's what's supposed to happen? Is that right? Did I get that right?"
"That's not what I—"
"That's exactly what you meant," you hiss, and point, and she isn't there anymore. The air roils. You are alone.
(2/3)
