If anybody wondered why I didn't go to college after graduating high school. It wasn't because I lacked money. I could have done so with a scholarship offered by one of my teachers due to my exceptional academic performance.
The reason was simple: I wanted to spend my time playing The Mayhem and freely exploring its story and lore. If I had gone to college, my free time would have been limited by their activities and assignments.
It might sound silly to most people, but my life had become deeply dependent on The Mayhem and the Hellraider character. I even bought the first version of the game, which was still played in arcades, as a collector's item.
My obsession with The Mayhem rarely interfered with my work performance. It's true that some colleagues still gossiped about me, as I preferred talking only to people I felt comfortable with, and some of them already knew about my past. Again, I didn't care.
With my salary, I was able to buy the latest console after seeing an official online announcement that the upcoming sequel to The Mayhem would be released exclusively for it, featuring enhanced graphics.
In the new installment, Hellraider appeared with even more impressive armor and weapons. In the latest story, he was elevated to the status of a divine warrior—the only being capable of eradicating any enemies that disrupted the balance of the universe.
I was deeply moved by the power of his character, whose entire universe depended on his existence. I also bought more Hellraider figures, once even managing to secure a new one at a toy store while other fans fought over it. In my heart, I declared myself the most loyal fan of The Mayhem and Hellraider.
I also applied for a loan to buy a small used car so I could shop for monthly groceries at the supermarket. I remembered when Aunt Nancy and I had to carry heavy groceries home by public bus. We avoided the store near our apartment because the staff were unfriendly and the prices were higher than at the supermarket.
Years passed, and The Mayhem game series finally reached its final series after nearly twenty years. All fans—including myself—were eager to see how the story of Hellraider, who had accompanied, strengthened, and motivated me for so long, would end.
When I finally played and completed the last installment, my heart felt unfulfilled. I couldn't understand why I felt this way. It was because the ending of Hellraider's story didn't live up to his struggles over nearly two decades. I felt the writers had failed to respect Hellraider, who had been the backbone of the series' success.
I searched for discussions on internet forums and found others who shared my disappointment. However, many were dismissive, claiming that this was the inevitable consequence of bearing the title of Hellraider. Deep down, I still couldn't accept his fate. Even so, I remained a devoted fan of The Mayhem and it's main character.
I wasn't a game writer who could change Hellraider's fate at will. I kept replaying The Mayhem as an escape from my monotonous daily routine. Yes, even though I was working, I felt as if I had entered an empty phase of my life. What kept me entertained was imagining myself as a writer—creating The Mayhem from the beginning and deciding Hellraider's final fate the way I truly desired.
That routine repeated itself for years.
...
I couldn't believe I was already twenty-three years old. Very few people talked about The Mayhem or Hellraider anymore. When they did, it was usually speculation about a possible side story. But I knew the final installment was definitive. The studio had moved on to an entirely different genre.
I didn't play any other games. I remained loyal to The Mayhem because it was a witness to the most important part of my life. If no one else wanted to keep it alive, I would be the only one in the world to do so.
…
I once believed the darkest phase of my life had ended in childhood. But I forgot that life is like a spinning wheel. This incident dragged me back again into a darker dimension.
One day, during a holiday, I was suddenly awakened by loud banging on my door. Still half-asleep, I faintly heard someone shouting and banging front door loudly.
"GET OUT A**HOLE! YOU HAVE TO TAKE RESPONSIBILITY FOR ALL OF THIS!!!"
Shocked, I quickly opened the door and saw two men whose faces were red with rage. Without giving me a chance to speak, they dragged me outside to the parking lot. I froze when I saw my car—its front and middle badly damaged.
At first, I thought a drunk driver had hit it. But the damage suggested my car had collided with something at high speed. The narrow, winding road leading to my apartment made no sense for such an accident.
"Look! This is proof you've hurt so many people!" one of the men shouted.
"W-What happened? I just woke up…" I tried to explain.
Unsatisfied, one man grabbed my arm roughly and dragged me toward the side of main road. There, I saw a crowd surrounding an elderly man and there were two police officers. The old man laid on the ground, bled from his legs, hands, and face, grimaced in pain.
An ambulance soon arrived, and paramedics rushed him away to nearest hospital. Everyone then stared at me with cold, accusing eyes as if I were a criminal who had just been caught.
"You're Johann, the owner of that car, right?" a police officer asked calmly, yet intimidatingly.
I nodded.
The officer invited me into the police car. I wondered why I wasn't handcuffed, but then remembered that officers carried tasers. Sitting in the back seat, the officer drove slowly.
"Tell me what you were doing this early morning," he said.
I told him I still had been asleep.
"I'll show you the damage your car caused, which you're suspected of being the driver of" he sighed.
I was stunned. How could I have done this while asleep? I didn't even have a sleepwalk.
"That old man said earlier that he saw you get into your car and suddenly you were driving recklessly, which caused him grazed and injured," the officer said.
I couldn't say anything else. Our police car was approaching the intersection, and I could see the traffic light pole had fallen in the middle of the highway. "Several witnesses said your car was traveling at high speed and hit the traffic light," the officer added. I could only stare blankly.
"I'll take you to where the most damage occurred. You probably know this place."
I saw from a distance a plume black smoke filled the sky ahead. Sirens wailed. When we arrived, my eyes widened in shock.
This... this... my workplace... The wall of the restaurant which behind the kitchen, had been completely destroyed. Inside, I could see flames still burning inside. Several fire trucks were working to extinguish the blazing flames.
I tried to pinch my hand, and I still felt pain. No... this can't be... This was too real for such a horrific nightmare.
The car stopped bit far away from restaurant, and the officer led me to an ambulance. Inside lay one of my coworkers, badly injured but still awake.
When he saw me, his expression turned to horror.
"ARRGGHHHH... GET AWAY... GET THAT MONSTER AWAY FROM MEEE...!!!"
The officer took me back again to car and explained everything. According to witnesses, I had crashed into the restaurant, grinned eerily, then accelerated again to crush the kitchen, causing an explosion.
The horror of it all i can't comprehend... If I wanted to, I would have asked the officer to shoot me with a real gun so I could truly wake up from this terrible nightmare.
The officer then took me to the police station, I told the truth to the Investigator. A lie detector confirmed it. Doctor found no true mental illness and also drugs on me. The only proof was surveillance footage showed someone identical to me committing the acts.
I was charged with multiple crimes, potentially facing life imprisonment. The investigator said my case was the most bizarre he had ever handled when my body still kept intact. But the law cannot accept supernatural things as a proof.
This completely irrational incident has deliberately pushed me back to the bottom of life's ladder.
My uncle and aunt haven't contacted me at all, perhaps because they're so ashamed of my behavior that they're reluctant to offer me any more help. Even my former manager came for only slapped me without any words.
My heart and mind were shattered, accepting this horrific reality coming to me again.
Before being placed in solitary confinement, I made one request: to play all of The Mayhem series one last time. The Investigator initially reluctant. But then he charged me with 2 police officers and ensured it was finished in three days.
Arriving at my apartment, I looked first at the Hellraider figures and posters and said to myself through tears.
"I can't take this anymore. You are strong, but you're not an ordinary human being. There's no point in me taking your encouragement and motivation from you again. But I want to remember you one last time."
As I tried to finish all of the game series in all days and nights. The police also keep watched me all time alternately. I only thanked quietly when they never tried to talk to me, but then only sneered.
"No wonder he's acting like this; he's a big fan of this kind of game."
After three days of non-stop play, exhausted and broken in night, I saw the officer sitting on the sofa, sound asleep and snoring.
I then took the opportunity to go to the kitchen to grab a fairly large knife. Honestly, I would rather end my life than spend the rest of my life in that cold, dark prison.
Then I stood before the screen showing the final credits of last installment The Mayhem.
"Thank you, Hellraider, for being with me all this time," I whispered and smiled. "I hope we meet again in another world…"
I put the knife blade to my neck right on the skin.
"Goodbye, everyone…"