Are you gonna make the right choice?

You but this did happen. You want Kit to know.

I see you made the right choice after only one attempt. Oh well, it doesn't matter. The point is you're here now, and I'm about to round out this ludicrous fourth wall break path.

Hey Kit.

You look around. This voice is... Different. It doesn't sound like anyone you know. "W-who are you?"

I'm the man who created you.

This causes you to jerk back. "What? You can't be! You're lying! Just leave me alone!"

I'm feeding you these words. This isn't a conversation between two people. This is me trying out an artistic experiment. People are going to rate me a 1 if they find this wannabe avant-garde bullshit path.

"You can't be telling the truth! I'm real! I'm as real as any man!" He can't be telling the truth. You're a real person. This is getting to you too much.

I'm not sure why you're in denial, Kit. In fact, I'm not sure why I'm writing you as in denial of this. I can make you do anything. I can make you dance if I want. Though I suppose that would fit better in a visual medium.

As if on command, you begin to hop up and down and wiggle around. It's a very entertaining sight, and the writer has stopped bothering with italicizing your actions. Because you know the truth, Kit. I created you. I can end you. I can take things back. Have you gone insane? That's for me and the reader to decide.

"What did you do to me?"

I got a prompt and I figured I could take this path in an interesting way. I was having trouble with this specific part of it. I remembered a comic I read once, Grant Morrison's Animal Man. It ended in a similar manner to this path: author and creation meeting each other. It touched me in a way I don't think any other story has, yet.

"You created me?"

Yeah, Kit. You're a figment of my imagination. If I want, I can hit delete on this story right now and you'd be gone forever. Just a shadow of what could have been in my mind. I've come close to wiping this story a few times. I wasn't sure I could ever complete it. I'm not sure if I ever wanted to. Writing this story has taught me a lot and I feel like once I finish it, I won't be learning anymore.

"Everything that happened to me... You did that?"

Yes, Kit. Your friends, they're not real. They're playthings. I've written a handful of lines for each of them. The only one that got any semblance of characterization was Lilith, the priest girl. Did you know that I went into this story without a name for any of them? I went into this story without a name for you, too. You were going to be Victor, once.

"What are you saying? Can't you turn everything back?"

Sure I can Kit, but it would be hollow. I'd go back to writing a story instead of rambling on incoherently, and it would end right as it got to the good part. That's how this entire story has gone; I have an idea, I write a few pages for it, I get bored, then I cut it off before it branches out too much. There's so many things in here that could make a full game, yet I only dedicate a handful of pages to those stories.

"Why can't you just stop that, then? Make everything as long as it needs to? Why couldn't you make a story about myself and my friends, let us choose our fates, let the reader choose our fates?"

Because that wasn't the story I wanted to tell. I wanted to be "edgy". I wanted to be "realistic". Cursing, and drinking, and violence, and a broken protagonist. You were never a hero, Kit. In fact, I could say that you killed countless men and women, and no one would bat an eye. They'd want to play as you more, if anything. The people here are drawn to villains.

"What the hell do you want from me?"

Me? I don't know. I'm writing this because I'm bored. Later I'm probably going to eat breakfast and pass out. Maybe watch a movie. Go for a walk. Something. But right now, it's me, and you, and the reader. I haven't forgotten you, reader. Why don't you exercise your "free will" and decide how this story ends for me, huh?