The days following Tej's revelation were a blur of feigned normalcy. The Ruths, desperate to maintain a semblance of the life they once knew, went out of their way to treat Tej as if nothing had changed. They showered him with affection, cooked his favorite meals, and offered him anything his heart desired. But none of it reached the growing void inside him.
Tej's thirteenth birthday was approaching, a day that should have been filled with joy and celebration. But this year, it carried a weight that none of them could ignore. For Tej, it was a reminder of the day he was abandoned, a day when his life had been decided by forces beyond his control. He had spent hours lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to make sense of it all. The once comforting home now felt like a stage where he played a part he didn't understand.
One evening, as they sat around the dinner table, his parents asked the question they had been dreading: "What would you like for your birthday, Tej?"
Tej hesitated. He didn't care about the presents or the celebration, but he knew he had to give them an answer. His mind raced, trying to think of something that would satisfy them without drawing too much attention.
"I… I think I'd like a video game," he said finally, his voice steady but distant. "Something to play when I'm done with my homework."
The Ruths exchanged a relieved glance. This was something normal, something familiar, something they could handle. Marianne smiled warmly at him, the tension easing from her shoulders.
"Of course, Tej," she said, her voice filled with the forced cheerfulness that had become all too common. "We'll find something fun for you. Maybe a nice, age-appropriate game?"
Tej nodded, not really caring what they chose. He had only mentioned video games because that's what boys his age were supposed to like. It was just another lie, another small deception to keep up the facade.
A few days later, the Ruths presented Tej with a neatly wrapped package. The box was small and lightweight, and the smile on Marianne's face told Tej that she was pleased with their choice.
"Here you go, sweetie," she said, handing him the gift. "We thought this would be perfect for you."
Tej tore off the wrapping paper and stared at the box in his hands. The cover displayed colorful cartoon characters, cheerful and innocent, the kind of imagery that would appeal to a much younger child. The title read, "ToD: Truth or Dare!" with an exclamation mark that made it seem like a harmless game. But something about it felt off. It was too bright, too cheerful, as if it were trying too hard to be something it wasn't.
He forced a smile and nodded. "Thanks, Mom. Thanks, Dad. I'll go play it in my room."
"Happy birthday, Tej," John said, ruffling his son's hair. "We hope you like it."
Tej muttered a quick thanks before excusing himself to his room. The moment the door closed behind him, the smile vanished from his face. He placed the box on his desk and sat down on his bed, staring at it from across the room.
There was something about that game. Something that made his skin crawl. He couldn't explain it, but it was as if the box was watching him, waiting for him to make a move. But he couldn't let his parents see his unease. They had already gone through enough because of him, and he couldn't bear to disappoint them again. He had to play the game.
With a deep breath, Tej opened the box and inserted the game cartridge into his console. The screen flickered to life, the cheerful music grating against his nerves. A menu appeared with two options: "Under 18" and "18+." Tej's hand hovered over the second option, his curiosity piqued. But just as he was about to select it, the screen went black.
"What the…?" he muttered, staring at the now blank screen. He checked the wires, making sure everything was connected properly. But everything seemed fine. He pressed the power button again, and the console turned back on, the game restarting from the main menu.
This time, he selected the "Under 18" option, his earlier curiosity now tinged with suspicion. The screen flickered again, and the game began to load. But as it did, Tej felt a sharp, electric jolt shoot through his hand. He yelped and pulled his hand back, staring at his finger. It felt like static electricity, but stronger, more deliberate.
He shook his head, trying to brush off the strange sensation, but a creeping sense of unease settled in his chest. As the game finally loaded, the screen displayed a message in bold letters: "Welcome to Truth or Dare! Choose wisely, or the game will choose for you."
Tej's heart skipped a beat. The message felt like a warning, but before he could react, the screen shifted to the first question:
"What is your deepest fear?"
Tej blinked, confused. This was not what he had expected from a game with such a cheerful cover. But he couldn't back out now. He had to play along.
"My deepest fear?" he whispered to himself, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. He could feel the anxiety building in his chest, the same suffocating feeling he had experienced when his parents told him the truth about his adoption.
But instead of admitting his fear, he typed, "I'm not afraid of anything," his fingers moving quickly, almost as if they had a mind of their own.
As soon as he pressed enter, the screen flashed red, and a new message appeared:
"Liar."
Tej's breath caught in his throat. He stared at the screen, his heart pounding in his ears. The word blinked ominously, as if taunting him. He could feel the blood draining from his face, the sensation of being watched growing stronger with each passing second.
Without warning, the screen flickered again, and the next message appeared:
"Dare: Prove it."
Before Tej could process what was happening, the screen went black once more, and the console powered off on its own. The room was plunged into silence, the only sound his own ragged breathing.
Tej sat there, frozen, his mind racing. The game had called him a liar. It had dared him to prove his lie. But how? And why did it feel like the game knew more about him than it should?
He felt a shiver run down his spine, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. Something was very wrong with that game. But he couldn't let it show. He couldn't let his parents see how much it had rattled him.
For now, he would play along. He would pretend everything was fine. But deep down, he knew that the game had awakened something inside him—something dark, something dangerous.
As he lay in bed that night, staring up at the ceiling, Tej couldn't shake the feeling that the game wasn't just a game. It was a test. A test of his ability to lie, to deceive, to survive. And if he wasn't careful, it would consume him.