Ryan practically limped into his house at the end of the day. His head throbbed like a bass solo gone rogue, and a fresh collection of bruises decorated his arms – compliments of Yuri, the resident school jerk. His backpack felt like it was filled with bricks, the weight of the day settling on his shoulders.
"Awesome," he grumbled under his breath, pushing open the front door to his empty apartment. Mrs. Davies' disappointed voice, lecturing him about punctuality, echoed in his head. He winced, his hand instinctively going to the angry red welt blooming on his cheek.
Today had been a whopper of a bad day. Gym class was a torture session disguised as dodgeball, and Yuri, naturally, had been the conductor of the misery orchestra, targeting Ryan with ruthless precision. But a sliver of hope remained amidst the exhaustion and pain. Ms. Johnson's advice, her words about dealing with bullies, kept replaying in his mind. Maybe there was a way out of this, a way to fight back that didn't involve throwing punches.
He tossed his backpack onto the couch with a groan and headed out the door, the walk to his cousin Michael's school a slow, contemplative journey. As he reached the schoolyard, a wave of relief washed over him. There was Michael, a tiny human hurricane with a face brighter than the afternoon sun.
"Ryan!" Michael shrieked, launching himself at Ryan like a furry missile.
"Hey there, champ," Ryan chuckled, catching him in a tight hug. "How was your field trip?"
Michael's eyes lit up as he launched into an enthusiastic description of firetrucks and hoses, each sentence punctuated by excited gestures. Ryan listened patiently, a small smile playing on his lips. Taking care of Michael was the one uncomplicated thing in his life, a source of pure joy that never failed to lift his spirits.
After getting Michael settled and refueled with a simple dinner of grilled cheese and tomato soup (Michael's absolute favorite), Ryan decided to unwind. He pulled out his phone, desperately needing a distraction. He tapped on his favorite game, "Sword of the Phoenix," hoping for a brief escape into a world of fantasy and heroism.
An unexpected notification popped up on his screen. "All your classmates are online! Join them on an epic quest!" Ryan raised an eyebrow. This was weird. Usually, they weren't all online at the same time. Shrugging, he figured curiosity outweighed his skepticism. He clicked "Join Game" and was met with the familiar loading screen. But something felt different this time. The loading bar stuttered, lagging more than usual.
A sense of unease prickled at Ryan's skin. He glanced at Michael, who was blissfully unaware of the glitch on Ryan's phone, then back at the screen. The room seemed to tilt slightly, a distorted feeling spreading through him.
"Whoa, what the…" Ryan muttered, reaching out a hand to steady himself. He felt a strange pull, a force drawing him towards the television. Instinctively, he took a step back, a surge of panic shooting through him.
The room started shaking, the tremors growing stronger by the second. Dust rained down from the ceiling, and a deafening crack split the air. Michael shrieked, scrambling away from the collapsing bookcase.
With a final, agonizing yank, Ryan was ripped from the floor. He let out a scream, his body twisting and turning in mid-air. One moment he was in his living room, the next he was plummeting towards a blinding light.
The disorientation was overwhelming. He felt like he was being sucked through a tunnel, the world blurring into a swirling vortex of colors and sounds. Then, as abruptly as it began, the pull stopped.
He landed hard on a cold, rough surface, the impact knocking the breath out of him. Groaning, he pushed himself up,wincing at the sharp pain shooting through his bruised body.
He blinked, trying to make sense of his surroundings. He was no longer in his living room. Instead, he found himself in a dimly lit cobblestone street, surrounded by half-timbered buildings that looked like something out of a medieval fantasy movie. Lanterns hung from wrought-iron brackets, casting an eerie orange glow.
Panic clawed at his throat. Where was he? How did he get here? His heart hammered against his ribs as he stared around,searching for any sign of familiarity.
"Michael?" he called out, his voice trembling. "Michael, where are you?"
His voice echoed back in the empty street. There was no answer, only the faint sound of dripping water somewhere in the distance.