Inescapable Escapism

I shook my head to clear it as I slipped my phone back into my pocket and hit the light switch. It was ridiculous. The way I was acting was stupid. I hadn’t gone to that world to spend the entire time missing and worrying about someone who wasn’t even my friend in that world. If I was going to do that, I could have just stayed in reality or gone back to the Academy. I was lonely enough there. I didn’t need to enforce it on yet another world. It was unnecessary.

The whole reason I’d looked for a new world was because I didn’t want that. I longed for something new, for new experiences, happiness, and luxury, but I was letting myself slip back into my other personality, into my old ways, and I needed to be better. I had to try harder to push my feelings aside, and it would be fine.

“Oh.”

I couldn’t help the word that slipped out of my mouth as I looked around the bathroom, my eyes widening. It was so… luxurious. Shockingly so. I should have been used to it by then. My entire apartment was so opulent, and I’d lived there for a little while in that world. I knew that, but I was still in awe.

The white marble floor seemed to be inlaid with precious stones, gems that sparkled and glittered in the light. The sink and countertops were made out of the same material, but the walls were black marble with golden veins. Every single surface gleamed. The entire bathroom looked like it had just been scrubbed. Even the glass surrounding the shower was spotless.

My mouth fell open as I stared into my shower. Jealousy started to build within me, and I knew it was stupid. It was just a shower, and I could use it at any time, but part of me still clung to the feeling. Why was it so big? No one needed a shower that big. The glass enclosure was larger than some bathrooms I’d used before; it could have easily fit multiple people in there if it needed to, but it was just for me.

I stepped forward, edging further into the bathroom as I stared in, unable to make sense of what I was seeing. Why were there so many shower heads? There was a cluster on the back wall and another giant rectangular one on the ceiling that stretched the entire length of the glass room.

There was a bench. Confusion, tinged with a vague sense of longing, washed over me as my eyes found the marble seat built into the wall inside the shower. It was large enough that I could probably lie on it comfortably, but that seemed so strange to me. Why would I want that? Why would anyone?

I’d used it, though. Memories rushed into my head, fuzzy and hazy at first, but they quickly came into focus. It wasn’t long after I first moved in. I’d had a particularly tough practice, and I thought I was used to it. I always used to push myself during practices, but I had no idea just how much Nina expected of me. I wanted to make her proud. I needed her and Athena not to regret letting me join the team, so I forced myself to run faster. I threw myself after the ball, paid little attention to how hard I hit the turf and made myself bounce back up as fast as I could.

It hurt. I barely had the energy to walk into the bathroom, much less stand for long enough to wash the sweat and blood off my exhausted body, but I knew I needed to. The relief I’d felt when I collapsed onto the bench and spotted the control panel built into the wall next to it was so intense I almost wept.

I did. My tears mingled with the water as I tapped the screen and directed all of the shower heads to point at where I was slumped against the cold stone. I hardly needed to move to reach for my shampoo and conditioner, and I was so glad.

On more than one occasion, I’d even fallen asleep on that bench, I recalled. It was foolish, and it scared me every time, but it happened far too frequently. I knew how dangerous it was. If I were to fall forward or slip, it could be bad. Especially if I hit my head. I lived alone. I could shout and shout, and no one would hear me. I would be stuck there, slowly bleeding out, until I either missed a practice and someone came looking for me or until Aurora got concerned because I wasn’t replying to her texts.

A shudder ripped through me, and I stepped back, shaking out my hands. Suddenly, I felt much more awake. My body was still drained, but my mind felt wired. The thought of lying on the floor of the shower in agony but unable to move as I cried out for hours made me not even want to risk it. I knew I had to.

Quickly pulling my clothes off, I dropped them in the panel on the wall, sending them down to the laundry room before untangling the tie from my hair. My back and hands twinged at the movement, but I ignored the pain until I’d managed to remove the elastic. My hair hardly moved. It stayed pulled back, held in place by the copious amounts of hairspray I’d used before the match.

Combing my fingers through it did very little. The solid clumps of hair pulled at the plaster on my hands, causing me to wince as I gave up. It never helped; only a shower would fix it, and I knew that, but I tried every time. I wasn’t sure why, though. It was just something I did.

My hands needed to be topped up before I got them wet, I realised as I glanced down at them. The spray plaster was good, but I could see a few gaps in the otherwise slightly shiny coating. Luckily, I had more than a couple of cans of the spray in the cabinet above my sink.

Once I was sure they were protected, I placed the canister on the counter and turned towards my shower. A smile came over my face as I walked towards the glass doors and slipped inside. There was a moment of confusion as I stared at the polished pipes, trying to work out how to start the water before my eyes found the control panel on the wall. The waterproof screen came to life, offering me too many options that I didn’t really understand, and I reached out, choosing one at random.

Immediately, scaldingly hot water cascaded down on me, sending up a plume of steam that filled the shower in seconds. My body tensed as the urge to leap back out of the spray gripped me, but I forced myself to stay. A tight exhale slipped from my pursed lips as I slowly adjusted to the temperature, and I felt myself begin to relax.

It wasn’t that bad. The water was hot, obviously, but it was manageable. Actually, it was kind of nice. Instinctively, I reached towards the control panel again, adjusting the settings. More shower heads sprung to life, and I turned quickly to stop myself from getting sprayed directly in the face.

The pressure of the water was punishing on my tired muscles. I didn’t realise it until I turned, but it felt like I was being pummelled by a thousand tiny fists. It didn’t hurt, though. The pain was strangely… nice. It actually felt kind of good.

Shimmying around, I tried to get the water to focus on the specific part of my lower back that complained every time I moved. That did hurt at first. I could only keep my back in the direct spray for a couple of seconds before the pain got too bad, but it didn’t last long. Gradually, I felt my muscles begin to relax. The tightness faded again, and I let out a content sigh.

I needed a shower like that in real life, I realised as I tapped the control panel again, aiming the water at my shoulder blades. I barely worked out in that world compared to the world I was in, but I knew it would still do me some good. My body was tense all the time. I was constantly on edge and twitchy, and that couldn’t be good for me. Being attacked by the water would help.

Hair fell over my eyes as I dropped my head forward, but I pushed it back. The hairspray had melted, I realised before combing my stubby nails over my scalp, feeling my whole body sag. It felt better. I’d barely noticed it before, but the hair had been pulling. It had felt so tight, and without it…

The urge to slump onto the bench and lean against the ice-cold wall for just a few seconds gripped me so tightly that I took a step towards it without even meaning to. The shower heads seemed to follow my movement, keeping the pressure on my back constant. I wouldn’t fall asleep, obviously. I might let my eyes shut for a couple of seconds, but nothing more. I wouldn’t actually sleep.

I jerked backwards, my hands clenching into fists. It was a stupid idea. If I sat down, I’d fall asleep. It happened every time, and it was going to end badly. I was too aware of that. I couldn’t risk it, and I didn’t have time to nap, anyway. The taxis would be there before too long, and I still had to do my makeup and dry my hair.

It felt almost impossible, though. I reached for the bottle of shampoo resting on the lip above the bench, purposefully not looking at it as a yawn so big it made my jaw click forced its way out. I did want a nap. I really wanted one, but I couldn’t.

I had to leave the world. That would make things easier. If I went back to reality for just a bit, I could let my body continue showering on autopilot. It would be able to resist the urge to fall asleep better than I could, and I could check to make sure I was still packing in reality. I probably was, but the idea of my body just sitting there on the floor with piles of clothing dotted around me terrified me.

What would happen if my mom walked in and saw me there?

A chill slipped down my spine. It wouldn’t be good. She would want to know what I was doing and why I wasn’t packing, and I wouldn’t have an answer for her. She’d assume the worst. She would immediately think that I was doing something terrible or…

Another groan slipped out of my mouth in one of the worlds; I wasn’t sure which. I really didn’t want to do another drug test for her. They never showed anything, obviously, but that was rarely enough to convince my mother. She always suspected the results were wrong or that I’d somehow managed to manipulate the results.

Dizziness dragged me down into reality, and I felt my hand clench into a fist around the socks I was in the middle of bundling together. Queasiness pulled at me, making it hard for me to breathe, but I waited, listening carefully as the world slowly became more solid.

There was nothing out of the ordinary there. I couldn’t hear anything particularly concerning. The TV was still on downstairs. It was a little quieter, but I could still hear almost every word the newscasters were saying. And there were bangs coming out of my mom’s room, I realised as I stared in that direction. Another one sounded, and I felt my eyebrows slowly pull together.

It didn’t sound like a fight, I didn’t think. I didn’t have much experience with that in my real world, but part of me was certain. She was making the noises herself. They probably just happened as she packed or something.

I was safe. No one was coming to check on me, and I wouldn’t have to do another drug test. Relief washed over me, and I fell backwards towards the side of my bed. My spine hit the wooden frame hard, and I hissed in pain, recoiling away from it. Rubbing the still tender spot, I found myself wishing that the shower in the room across the hall was the same as in my other world. Even if it was half as good, I would have been happy, but it was not.

Disappointment made me want to leave the world immediately, to return to the one where I was still being battered by the water, but I forced myself to stay. It was too soon. I couldn’t go back until I was no longer at risk of falling asleep in there, and that would be another few minutes at least. That meant I needed to continue packing.

My eyes found the pair of socks in my hand, and I stared at them blankly. They didn’t match, and I wasn’t exactly sure what to do about that. It didn’t really matter, and I knew that. I didn’t wear matching socks every day, and they needed to be washed anyway, but if my mom saw it, she’d get annoyed. Mismatched socks were yet another thing she hated, just like unmade beds. It wasn’t worth the argument it would cause, I decided as I separated the pair and began looking for their missing halves.

I froze, my hands falling still. My mom didn’t really care about me not making the bed or wearing socks that didn’t match. She made snide comments about it sometimes, but she didn’t get too annoyed. In the other world, the one I was fighting not to return to, she did, but not in reality.

The thought had just slipped out, though. I didn’t even realise I’d mixed them up for a few seconds, and that unnerved me. I shook my head, trying to push away the weird feeling that lingered at the back of my mind. It felt like I was trying to recall a memory that was just out of reach. It was gone, impossible to recover, but it still pulled at me, and I hated it. It felt wrong.

I’d just been there too much; that was probably it. I hadn’t spent that long in the other world, but I was too connected to it. It was what I wanted, the life I wanted, and that was probably why details were getting muddled for me. That made sense. As long as I was careful not to let it happen again, it would most likely be fine.

A loud, sudden noise in the distance made me jump, and my head snapped up. It was just my grandfather laughing at something on the television. I was getting paranoid. Twitchy. I knew that, but I still couldn’t stop myself from jumping when a thud came from further down the corridor.

It was my mom again, and I listened carefully, worry starting to creep into my mind. I was pretty sure she was fine, though. She’d been making so much noise since we’d come upstairs, and it felt intentional. It had to be. She was never normally that clumsy.

Maybe she was doing it on purpose, just like with the floorboards before. Perhaps she was hoping that if she made enough noise, her parents would realise she wasn’t asleep yet. They might invite her downstairs to hang out with them, but I knew they wouldn’t. She might not have been doing that, though. It might not have even occurred to her, but the thought still made me sad. She was so desperate for even the smallest scrap of love or attention from her parents, but they didn’t give it to her. They never did.

An uncomfortable feeling gnawed at my stomach. I was sad for her, but it was strangely conflicting. Part of me hoped it would make her realise how badly she treated me, but I knew it wouldn’t. Her parents always treated her horribly. It happened every year, but the moment we got home, she just continued to act the same way she always did.

I could feel myself starting to pull back from the world. It was becoming fuzzy around me, and I didn’t bother fighting. I didn’t want to stay.

My steps faltered slightly as dizziness pulled at me, and my hand shot out, grabbing the door frame for balance. I clutched my towel tightly with my other hand, struggling to keep my eyes open as my gaze tried to find the windows. It was impossible to see through them, and I tried to ignore the panic that thrummed in my chest as I swayed.

The windows were coated, I told myself over my racing heart. The paparazzi-controlled drones wouldn’t be able to see through, and I knew that, but I was still scared of them getting a picture of me stumbling around. The news would run with it, especially if my towel fell off. I’d be bombarded with accusations of being drunk or on drugs, and every single outlet would speculate whether I was fit for the team.

That wouldn’t happen, though. The panic started to fade as my vision cleared. Athena had assured me of that when I first moved into the apartment. Every single window was coated with something that made it impossible for anyone to see through to us. The paparazzi knew that, and they barely even tried anymore. I was fine.

Still, I kept a tight grip on my towel as I crossed the room towards my wardrobe, shutting the door once I reached it. Luckily, there were no windows in the fairly large room. It didn’t feel stuffy, though. The only light was from the chandelier that hung in the centre, but it was reflected in the giant mirror on the far wall, making it seem like there were two.

My gaze roamed the other three walls, taking in the rows of clothing, shoes, and accessories. There was so much stuff, and I couldn’t stop myself from taking a step towards the nearest rack of clothes and reaching out. The red sleeve was softer than I expected, and I didn’t even need to try the dress on to know I didn’t want to wear it. It wasn’t my style. Nothing in the room was.

I looked around again, discomfort building in my stomach. It seemed like every item of clothes was something that I’d like to wear but would never be able to. I knew I wasn’t confident enough to pull them off, and I didn’t even want to try. My body was different in that world, leaner and more muscular, but that didn’t matter. The thought of wearing anything that made me feel so on display still terrified me.

They didn’t really even feel like my clothes, I realised as I walked along the rack, eyeing the items closely. It was more like I’d been dropped into a different house. I was nothing more than a child playing dress up in someone else’s clothes, someone who was much older and cooler than I would ever be. Someone like Athena. I’d never be able to wear such tight and revealing outfits.

But why not? The question floated into my mind, taking me by surprise. I had the body for it in that world. Sure, I was still a little too thin and lanky and not quite as toned as I wanted, but I didn’t exactly look bad.

Hesitantly, I turned towards the mirror, examining the arms and legs that were sticking out of my towel. Jealousy bubbled in my stomach, and a vague sense of wrongness pulled at me as I stared. It felt like deja vu. Like I’d lived that moment before, but I was pretty sure I hadn’t. Not really, anyway.

I looked similar in that world, almost identical to how I did in reality. All of the changes were so small and subtle that I wasn’t sure if I was even seeing them. It was more like an optical illusion, a trick that made it impossible to compare my body there to my real body.

There were more scars and bruises on my legs in that world, but it made sense. I was training constantly, being tackled and thrown about. That was bound to cause marks, but I didn’t really mind them. They weren’t blemishes or anything bad. They were just… proof of my hard work, and that kind of made me like them.

The urge to drop my towel and scrutinise the rest of my body tempted me, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. It felt wrong, invasive, but also dangerous. I didn’t want to see the body I could have if I just worked harder. That would just make me hate how I looked in reality; I was sure of it.

I pulled the towel tighter against my body as I turned away from the mirror. I needed to get dressed. That’s what I’d do. I would just… leave the world again and let myself choose an outfit to wear at random, and then I’d go back. I’d do the fun parts of the night out and skip the boring parts or the bits that made me anxious.

But still, I felt myself hesitate. I glanced back at the mirror, staring at my reflection for a little longer than I meant to. It was hard to drag my gaze away. My movements were uncertain and resistant, and I couldn’t help but wonder if I should just ignore the small voice in the back of my head that told me to leave.

A buzzing noise cut through the world, and I automatically started to pull away. A relieved smile pulled at my lips as the room in my grandparents’ house came into focus, and I glanced down at my phone.