You shout, "Leave me alone!" The voices continue despite your protests, and you find yourself unsure if you truly can continue like this... The dagger is awfully tempting...

No. You won't bow to their whims. Gritting your teeth, you hop out of bed and begin to yell as loud as you can, "LEAVE ME! I WON'T GIVE INTO THE LIKES OF YOU!" Still, the voices do not stop their incessant screeching. So, you scream back louder.

You're not sure how long the back and forth screaming goes on for. All you know is that before long, you stop yelling and begin to laugh maniacally. The voices quiet this way, but you're not sure for how long. Have you gone mad? Or is this working? Then again, who's to say it isn't both?

You what are you doing? You get a grip on yourself and stop, before you slip into a pit you cannot pull yourself out of.

You snap yourself back to reality, before you can lose yourself to the madness. Truly, you must be losing your mind. No sane man would break into a fit of laughter like you did, let alone hear voices calling to him in the dead of night. Your mind reaches for answers as to what the hell is going on, but it is met by silence.

There is something hanging over you, however. Some sort of entity guiding your actions, predetermining your paths and setting you on one or the other. You can feel the mouse hovering over you, watching, waiting for that next blue hyperlink to show up. I wonder if they're reading this. And if they are, I wonder what their thoughts are on what I'm writing. I'm going on a tangent. You probably think I'm just trying to cash in on the success some people had in 'connecting' with the reader in their own stories, don't you? The truth is, I don't know why this page turned out like it did.

Do you think the people reading this will ever find this path? Maybe they're skimming over all these words, trying to find an end game link. Maybe they're completionists and are trying to find every ending. The odds of this being the first path that a player finds is slim. There's other, more exciting paths out there, aren't there? So many different paths this story could have taken and they choose the stay at home and go nuts path first? I doubt it.

I don't know you, reader. I only know what I've written. I'm sure right now you're rolling your eyes, thinking that I'm just some pretentious teenager writing whatever dribble comes to mind. If I wrote whatever came to mind and didn't carefully reread and edit, this whole page would be riddle with typos and keyboard mashing. You don't know me in the same way I don't know you.

But this isn't about me or you or this website. This is about Kit and his descent into madness that you could have prevented. He's probably scared. I could just as easily write around this, pretend that this whole tirade didn't even happen. He can go back to being confused and going mad and trying to block out the voices. I think it's your choice, reader.

Just remember: every choice you make I wrote out for you. You have no control, but I guess that's just the edgelord in me getting out. Go on. Make a choice. Choose how this path ends.

You want to pretend this didn't happen. Kit's gone insane, there's no way out but death.

Alright then, reader. Kit can't take it anymore. He kills himself. The end. I didn't want to write this. You're boring for picking this. Fuck you.

You go back and make the right choice for you.

Are you gonna make the right choice?

You want to pretend this didn't happen. Kit realizes that the voices are trying to help him and changes.

Fine then, reader. Kit realizes the voices are his friends and changes his ways. He lives happily ever after. The end. Go fuck yourself.

You go back and make the right choice for you.

Just give in and make the right choice. No other option.

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

Stubborn, aren't you? Took you long enough to make the right choice. 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?

You give Kit his friends back.

Okay, reader. I'll give Kit a happy ending. I'll take away everything. Everything is back to normal now. Maybe someday I'll write a prequel. You might see me again there, watching, waiting, laughing at you and your "free will". You don't make the choices. I do.

































The light of the sun beats down upon your face through your window. Groggily, you push yourself up and scratch your head. Working in the fields all day has been killing your back lately, but you'd do anything for mother after father died. As you're pondering your predicament, you feel a splash of water hit you in the head from the window. A shout of shock escapes your lips.

You hear laughter from outside. "That wake you up, Kit?" a girl chuckles. Torn between amusement and anger, you get up and jump through the window. Grace sits there, laughing at your soaked form, while you glare angrily at her.

"The hell was that for? I was gonna wake up eventually!" you grunt, annoyed.

"Sure you were! Come on farmboy, it's your day off. Let's go meet with the others!" She takes your hand without another word, and you find your anger slipping away as she guides you to your friends. Life is good, and you've got all of it ahead of you. Nothing can stop you.

But time will tell if you can put an end to the evil on the rise...

THE BEGINNING