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Memoria Games will always hold a special place in my heart. It’s where Rennix and I met when we were old enough to ride our bikes past our neighborhood cul-de-sac and it’s where we spent most of our time eventually working there together.

And every night on our birthday I like to go and sit among the decay, pretending my life isn’t as shitty as it’s become.

4

NATALIA

Sometimes a little curiosity

turns into a jump scare

I would consider myself a simple woman. I don’t want much. I ask for even less. But the one thing I would love more than anything is if whoever oversees watching over me takes a god damn chill pill already.

It’s my birthday, for fuck’s sake. Granted, my feelings toward birthdays—mine in particular—are complicated at best, but I still don’t think it’s too much to ask for a break every now and then. I was already struggling today and then to be given this is putting me over the edge.

I stare at the contents of the envelope spilled onto my palm, unable to suppress the motto I’ve learned to live my life by—and that’s to keep my head held high and my expectations so low that they are buried six feet under. Basically, the exact opposite of A Day to Remember’s “All I Want” that’s currently blasting in my earbuds. My therapist says my inclination to be pessimistic is a defense mechanism blocking me from confronting my issues. I beg to differ. If anything, I feel like my low, arguably nonexistent expectations are validating since no matter the outcome of any situation I’m either prepared or pleasantly surprised.

Right now, however, I’m neither. No self-imposed low expectation bar I set for myself could’ve prepared me for my best friend since childhood leaving me a fucking key with no instructions or clue what it is for to remember him by.

That and a ripped printout from an old instant messenger conversation we had that he must’ve kept.

The paper looks like it’s gone to hell and back with the top portion faded to the point of being illegible.

GaM3b0y90: It’s settled then. If neither of us is married or has someone by then we’ll step in for each other.

MaLL_Babe90: How romantic.

GaM3b0y90: So we have a deal?

MaLL_Babe90: Well, I mean, I can’t say no to you, so…

GaM3b0y90: Sounds like a yes to me.

“Fuck!” I can’t do this.

Great, now I’m not only on the verge of tears, but I’m voluntarily picking up my phone to make a phone call. News flash, I loathe talking on the phone. That’s how distraught I feel right now.

“Hi, you’ve reached Lacey Steele Roberts, I’m unable to come to the…”

Nice try, Lace. Not even my intense dislike for phone calls will prevent me from spamming you until you answer.

Five back-to-back attempts later, we’ve made contact.

“Oh my god, Nat, are you okay?”

“No, I’m bleeding out and lying naked on the floor.”

“Why are you quoting the lyrics to ‘Torn’?”

I pinch my brows together, kneading my forehead in the process. I don’t have the willpower to argue with my classical-musical-listening friend that those are not the lyrics to one of my favorite Natalie Imbruglia songs. Close but no. “I’m glad you finally answered, and now I know that if I were on the verge of death not to call you.”

My sarcasm falls flat, same way it always does when I joke to Lacey, or anyone for that matter, about death. Everyone accuses me of being morbid. I can’t argue with them there, but when you’ve had your life so impacted by death as I have, a little sarcastic dark humor goes a long way.

“Sorry. I’m here now, so shoot.”

“What is this key to?”

“What key?”