The morning light crept through the blinds, casting lines of gold across my room. I stirred, the remnants of last night's dreams clinging to the edges of my consciousness.
The hologram flickered to life once more, its blue glow a stark contrast to the warm sunlight. "Good morning, Eileen. It's time for your daily tasks," it chimed, a hint of cheer in its synthetic voice.
"Today's agenda: a five-kilometer walk and a magic study you have 6 hours to do that." I groaned, burying my head under the pillows.
"Not today," I mumbled, dismissing the hologram with a wave of my hand. The allure of sleep was too strong, and I drifted back into slumber. It was nearly 11 am when the hologram's alarm blared, jolting me awake.
"Daily task not complete. You will face punishment, and three of your favorite things will be retired," it warned. I rolled my eyes, unbothered.
"Yeah, right," I scoffed, throwing off the covers. I took my time in the shower, letting the hot water cascade over me, washing away the sleep and the absurdity of the hologram's threats.
Dressed in a simple tee and jeans, I padded down to the living room. The sight that greeted me stopped me in my tracks. My parents sat on the couch, their expressions somber, a stark contrast to the usual warmth that filled our home.
"Mom? Dad? What's wrong?" I asked, my heart starting to race. My mother looked up, her eyes brimming with unshed tears.
"Eileen, we have some bad news," she began, her voice barely above a whisper. "We've gone bankrupt," my father continued, his words heavy with defeat. "We've lost everything. We have to start selling our possessions." I felt the ground shift beneath me.
"But... how? What happened?" I stammered, struggling to grasp the reality of their words.
"It was a series of bad investments, sweetheart. We thought we were making the right decisions, but..." My mother's voice trailed off, the rest of the sentence lost in a choked sob.
I sank onto the couch beside them, the weight of the situation pressing down on me. "So, what does this mean? Are we going to have to move?"
My father nodded, his face lined with worry. "Yes. We'll have to sell the house, the cars, everything of value." The room spun around me, the walls that had once felt like a sanctuary now a reminder of what we were about to lose.
"I... I need some air," I said, standing abruptly. I walked aimlessly through the neighborhood, the familiar streets now tinged with the bitterness of our loss. The hologram's tasks and threats seemed trivial in the face of this new reality.
When I returned home, the process had already begun. Movers were carefully wrapping paintings and sculptures, the treasures of our life reduced to mere commodities.
"Where will we go?" I asked, my voice hollow. "We're not sure yet, darling. We'll find somewhere, though. We always do," my mother said, her attempt at reassurance falling flat.
I trudged back to my room, the weight of our new reality dragging my steps. The familiar comfort of my gaming console beckoned a temporary escape from the chaos. But as I reached for where it should have been, my fingers grasped at nothing.
My games, my console, all vanished as if by some cruel magic. "It's okay," I whispered to the empty space, a hollow attempt to soothe my fraying nerves.
"There's still the TV series marathon I've been saving." Clinging to this last vestige of normalcy, I snatched the remote and pointed it at the TV.
The screen flickered to life, only to display a cold message: "Your subscription hasn't been paid for and will therefore be withdrawn."
"Great, just great," I muttered, tossing the remote aside. It clattered against the hardwood floor, an echo of my dwindling patience.
"At least I still have my bed." With a running start, I leapt towards the comforting embrace of my mattress, only to fall through the air and land with a thud on the ground.
The bed had disappeared, just like everything else. I lay there on the floor, the chill of the wood seeping into my bones. The ceiling above me blurred as I fought back tears, the silence of the room suffocating.
Hours slipped by, marked only by the shifting light as day gave way to dusk. Eventually, hunger pried me from my spot on the floor. I dragged myself to the living room, where the scent of soup wafted through the air.
There, on the table, was a simple bowl of broth, steam dancing above it. "Dinner's ready, Eileen," my mom called out softly, her voice a mix of warmth and sadness.
I nodded, managing a weak smile as I took a seat. The soup was plain, but it was hot and filled my empty stomach. We ate in silence, the three of us lost in our own thoughts about the uncertain days ahead.
Night had fallen by the time I returned to my room. The moonlight cast shadows across the walls, a silent witness to the day's events. And there, in the soft glow, stood my bed, materialized once again as if it had never left.
Exhausted, I crawled into its familiar folds, the sheets cool against my skin. "At least you're still here," I murmured to the empty room, the darkness wrapping around me like a cocoon. As sleep was starting to claim me, I couldn't help but wonder what tomorrow would bring in this strange new world where nothing seemed certain anymore.
The hologram appeared once more, its light unwelcome. "Eileen, it's time to—"
"Shut up," I snapped, the anger and fear I'd been holding back finally breaking through. "Just shut up."
But the hologram persisted, oblivious to my distress. "It's time to become one of the strongest mages, or even the best." I reached out, touching the black 'X' with more force than necessary.
The hologram flickered and vanished, leaving me alone with the darkness and the uncertainty of tomorrow.
"It's time to sleep now," I whispered into the void, my voice breaking. And as I closed my eyes, I wished for the first time that the hologram's fantasy world was not real, that I could escape into a life of magic and adventure, far away from the harsh truths of reality.