The Void Bunny

"It's okay."

"It's not."

"I guess," I said glumly. "Tell me about your parents. I bet they're nice people."

"The nicest," he said. "They were good to me. Raised me with all the love they had."

"Were?"

"They died in a car crash when I was nineteen."

"B-Both of them?" I asked shakily.

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry."

"Me too. I just hope I'm making them proud."

"Ben."

"Yes?"

"You are making them proud. You've accomplished so much already. You're their legacy."

He paused, then said, "Thanks, Kindra. You have a way with words. I needed to hear that too."

"That's what friends do," I said softly. "I'll lift you when you feel low."

"That's a lot of heavy lifting." His voice was thick.

"That bad?" I asked.

"Yeah. It's a lot."

"Why don't you tell me about it?"

"You know how there's the king and queen in the beginning of Moondusk Hollow? Well, that's them. And even though they died, I made sure there was still hope out there. There's still a player who can save the day. I'm that player, and I'm trying to be everything they ever wanted me to be."

"I'm sure you are, Ben. That much and more."

He sighed. "I have a little brother. Jake. I'm his guardian. He's only twelve. Raising him and working is pretty much killing me because I can't seem to balance my priorities. Like, I have to be there for him, but I also have to work. It's—fucked up. I'm fucked up, and I have all this baggage, and I've got a kid, and I'm just—I'm not good for you, for anyone, you know?"

How had we circled back to this?

"Ben, your worth does not come from your tragedy. Your worth comes from how you overcome it."

"I-I haven't overcome it," he said. "I'm just really fucked up."

I wasn't going to let him continue to feel this way.

"You will overcome it," I said firmly.

"How do you know that?"

"Because from today on, you're going all in. No retreat. No surrender. Got it?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're going to keep doing awesome stuff with Moondusk Hollow. You're going to keep raising your brother. You're going to keep persevering. And from now on, you're going to work on loving yourself."

"How?" he asked, still sounding defeated.

I had tears in my eyes. I'd had no idea he was in this much pain. There really was never any telling what was going on beneath the surface, even to the friendliest, happiest person on the outside.

"I'll talk to you. Every day, if you want. You can vent to me and tell me everything that's on your mind. And I'll be here to listen."

"Kindra." He said my name very gently, as if it was a fragile piece of glass. "Why are you helping me?"

"Because I know what it's like," I said as a tear trickled down my cheek. "I know what it's like to have everything overwhelm you, and I understand the loneliness and not being able to love yourself. I know what it's like to feel like you're not good enough, and I know what it's like to bottle everything up. I don't want that pain for anyone. Especially you, Ben. You're a good person, despite what you think. You were raised by loving parents, and the apple didn't fall far from the tree. You turned out like them. Now you just have to love yourself the way they loved you."

Ben let out a sigh. "Where have you been all my life?"

A sob was in my throat. I swallowed it down. "It's n-no big deal. I'm just trying to help."

"I'll be here for you too. How about we check up on each other every night?"

"Sounds good to me," I said with a watery smile.

"And I'll see you Friday night?"

"Yes. I'm staying at the Bellagio."

"I am too. Meet you in the lobby at, say, eight forty-five or nine?"

"Nine works for me," I said. "That'll give me a little time to change and freshen up."

"Nine," he repeated.

"See you then."

We could only be friends, but that was okay with me now. He needed me, and in a way, I kind of needed him too. We were broken, and even though we probably couldn't fix each other, at least we could pick each other up and put the pieces back together again.

And for now, that would have to be enough.

—

During a big storm, the mudslides on Highway 1 kept the tourists away. Sometimes the power went out, and sometimes the water had to be shut off, but mostly, that was the worst disaster you could expect in our quiet, sleepy town. I'd sit in my room, looking out the window as the trees would twist and turn in the wind, and all I could think of was Daddy out there on his motorcycle. What if he was making his way back and the mudslides were keeping him stuck outside of Santa Cruz? I knew he'd gone south. He always talked of moving back to East Hollywood, somewhere that had life in the city. I decided that if he didn't come back, I'd go and find him.

East Hollywood. Daddy had said that one day we'd go there, that we'd stop by for some piping hot Phở in Thai Town, and then we'd go to the bakeries in the neighborhood where he'd grown up: Little Armenia. The Armenian blood ran in rivers through his veins, and it showed in his dark hair and determined spirit. I was always proud of being half-Armenian, of my black hair and my own spirit, the one that could not be broken even after my mother tried tearing it to shreds.

"You're American," Mom would always say. She didn't want me to learn about Armenian culture.

"I'm Armenian too," I said.

"Your nationality is American. That's all you are, and it's all you'll ever be."

Throughout my entire childhood, I felt incomplete. In secret, I'd Google and learn about the history of my people, of the genocide that almost wiped out Armenians during World War I. I almost didn't exist. I didn't know much about my paternal grandparents, other than the fact that they hadn't approved of Daddy leaving East Hollywood for some American woman he'd knocked up while driving through the Slowcoast. What if my grandparents' parents had been all killed in the genocide? There would be no me.

There would be no Daddy.

So many things were based on chance. It was only by chance that Daddy had taken the dangerous trek down from the bluffs to the remains of the whaling wharf pier and found my mother sitting there on the swing, her long blonde hair billowing in the wind with the sunset illuminating her from behind. Smitten, he always said he'd fallen in love right then. It was perhaps why I didn't believe in love at first sight; it just didn't last.

When Daddy fell for Holly Davis, it hadn't been at first sight. I would have known because I'd been there, and he'd hardly noticed her. She'd only been fifteen when she'd first started babysitting me. It wasn't until she was an adult that she caught his eye. They'd talk, they'd laugh, they'd connect in a way that Daddy couldn't with my mother.

And that's how he fell in love for real. Not with her face, not with the sunset shining brightly behind her, but with her mind, her personality, who she was. I'd heard from someone that when Daddy left, he took Holly Davis with him. She'd gotten on the back of his motorcycle with only a backpack, leaving everything else behind. He'd done the same, not even looking back once.

I'd thought he loved me, but he loved his freedom more.

—

It was #ThirstTrapThursday and I was what you'd call a thirst trap in the first degree. I dressed up as D.Va from Overwatch, complete with headset and finger gun, but my version was one with bunny ears and pink hair. I winked at the camera, my ring light shining perfectly on my skin, which had been covered flawlessly with makeup, hiding the dark circles under my eyes.

I posted the picture on Twitter, and it got hundreds of hearts. Satisfied, I started up my stream on Gaminar. With 3000 new followers, my stream chat was popping. There were just over 1400 viewers, which was way more than what I was used to. My regulars were happy for me, chatting with the new viewers to keep them entertained. I talked and giggled with them as I played Overwatch for a few hours before switching to Moondusk Hollow.

Halfway through mining for resources and telling my viewers a story about the horrors of school food, bencodes10 joined my chat. My heart leaped, but I did my best to play it cool. So what if he'd come to my stream? There were hundreds of others. I could entertain him. This was my job, and I was good at it.

"...so they were really serving us hamburgers and milk, right? Like, that's a combination that's so gross now that I think about it, but that's what elementary school literally serves you here in the US."

[uwuYAS] we have a cheese course here in France lol

[vikkiplaysOW] oh yeah I remember that!!! So gross but putting a straw in a bag of milk was a whole ass M O O D

"We don't have 'courses' here," I said, laughing. "We're not that fancy. And Vikki is so right. Putting a straw in a bag of milk is totally a mood. It's childhood, man."

[bencodes10] My mom always packed my meals. Wasn't 5 star or anything, but I always had leftovers. I LOVE LEFTOVERS.

"Ben's totally right. Leftovers are the best," I said, sending TVB another level deeper in the mine. As soon as I'd gotten down the stairs, skeletons shook awake and began coming toward my character.

[staffsgt1987] Oh shit, you forgot to equip your sword.

"It's in a chest at the castle. I'm gonna die," I grumbled. "I'll lose the last ten levels of the mine."

[bencodes10] There's a rope in your bag. Use that to get out of the mines. You won't lose your progress.

"That's what the rope is for?"

[bencodes10] Yeah, it's a feature that most people don't know about since it isn't exactly spelled out that that's what it's for.

"Well, you're forgetting something about my gameplay," I said, grabbing a blast potion.

[staffsgt1987] No retreat, no surrender!

"That's right, Sgt. No retreat, no surrender," I said, and threw the potions one after the other toward the skeletons. I had five of them, so I aimed them carefully, taking out at least three skeletons per throw. For one millisecond, the chat stopped talking, watching as I dodged some arrows and then threw my last potion. There were four skeletons left.

And they all died!

Cheer emoticons broke out in the chat, and donations came piling in.

[bencodes10 has donated $500]

My finger slipped on the mouse, causing my character to accidentally veer off into a wall.

[felony265] Ben's rich AF

[uwuYAS] somebody match it pls :'D

[staffsgt1987] Lol YAS no one has that kind of money except for Ben.

[bencodes10] Ask and ye shall receive.

[bencodes10 has matched bencodes10's donation of $500]

The chat broke out in 'lmao's and I couldn't help but laugh too.

"Thank you, Ben," I said, blowing a kiss to the screen. He sent a kissing emoticon back, which made me giggle. My skin was burning hot. This was kind of a form of flirting, right? He was flirting with me, and I was soaking it up. (He wasn't actually flirting with me; it was a fucking emoticon.)

God, was I really this much of a goner already?

I tried shaking off the feelings, but they stayed with me the rest of the night. My cheeks were warm, my gameplay was a little awkward, and Ben was there watching me fuck up over and over again.

"I'm off my game tonight," I said. "Sorry guys!"

[felony265] is it because we've got a whale in here? Lol

In Gaminar, the term 'whale' represented anyone who spent over $100 in donations. Ben was a whale 10 times over as bencodes10, and 150x as WDeckard. Whales had a way of making streamers nervous, throwing them off their game.

But it wasn't the money throwing me off.

It was just Ben.

After I wrapped up the night, I said my goodbyes and changed out of my costume into a pair of cute PJs with ducklings and soap bubbles on them. I washed off the makeup, took off my pink wig, and brushed out my long dark hair. It blanketed down past my waist, thick and sleek and a little curly. When I was a kid, Daddy used to run his hand through my curls, calling me Miss Piggy. I'd snort, and he'd laugh, and my heart would swell in pleasure. I loved hearing the deep rumble of his laugh.

After massaging my night cream into my face, I went to the kitchen and grabbed a beer from the fridge—my last for the night. I knew that I drank too much. I spent more time drunk than sober when I was home, and I knew that wasn't good. I was twenty-one and already well on my way to becoming an alcoholic, and I guess that kind of made me sad and a little scared. I'd stop if I could, but the alcohol brought me so much comfort that I didn't know how I'd be able to. Sometimes when I was drunk enough, I could forget that I'd been abandoned and neglected my entire life.

My phone rang. Ben's name came up on the screen.

"Hello?" I said, my heart already thumping erratically.

"Hey, Kindra," he said, his voice just as deep and husky as the night before. "Just making my nightly call. I hope it isn't too late for you."

I checked my watch and I laughed. "It's literally dawn, Ben."

"You were on a stream," he said defensively, but I could hear the smile in his voice.

"Yes, I was, and you shouldn't have donated all that money."

"Why not?"

"Because, Ben. You don't have to give me money just for tuning in."

"I gave you money for destroying those skeletons, Kindra. No other reason."

"Well, don't feel obligated to donate when you're watching my streams. I don't have any expectations, and I really already appreciate you watching. That's payment enough."

"Don't tell me what to do," he said playfully. "I hear you, but I only donate when I want to, Kindra. Just remember that."

"Okay," I said, taking a sip of my beer.

"Are you still drinking?"

"Yes."

"Alcohol?"

"Yes," I said slowly. "Is that a problem?"

"Nope. I'm having my last beer too."

"I think we need professional help."

"I think so too."

"You gonna get the help?" I asked.

"Nope. You?"

"Nope."

He laughed. "I like you, Kindra."

Heat bloomed on my cheeks. "I like you too."

"Kinda cool that we'll be having dinner tonight. I'm excited to meet you."

"That is tonight! Like, what, fifteen hours from now?"

"Something like that, yeah. Any idea where you want to go for dinner?"

"Somewhere casual. I don't think I want to dress up after a long day," I said. "Maybe Guy Fieri's Vegas Kitchen?"

"Is that the place with the trashcan nachos?"

"Yup."

"I'm down," he said. "I personally like Gordon Ramsey more than Guy Fieri—like strictly as a person—but I never say no to nachos."

"Didn't Gordon Ramsey call someone a panini-head once?" I asked, giggling.

"He also put a piece of bread on each cheek and made someone call themselves an idiot sandwich."

I laughed. "He also called a chimichanga a 'chimi-chuck-it-in-the-bin' on Kitchen Nightmares."

"I remember that," Ben said, chuckling.

"Are we bonding over Gordon Ramsey insults?"

"You're damn right we are."

I drank down the rest of my beer, flattened the can, and went to my room, cuddling up under my thick comforter. The AC was running, and it was kind of freezing, but being under the covers helped warm me right up.

"Ben."

"Yeah?"

"Trashcan nachos," I mumbled sleepily.

"I can't wait," he replied with a laugh.

I might've said something else, but I can't remember. I fell asleep on him.

—

Duncan knew I had the weekend off, so he worked me extra hard, as if it would somehow make up for my absence. It would have driven me crazy, but one thing that gaming has taught me, though, is that when enemies come your way, you're heading in the right direction. And I was a gamer. We don't die; we respawn. Each time Duncan put me down, each time he yelled at me, each time he made me feel worthless and small—I bounced back, stronger.

Because nothing was getting me down today.

"What did you need the time off for again?" Duncan asked while I was on my last break out in the back of the restaurant. I was wiping down my motorcycle with a rag.

"I never said."

"So what is it then?"

"It's none of your business, Duncan."

"Does this have to do with your sexy little Gaminar stream?"

I looked over my shoulder, panic in my eyes. "Who told you about that?"

"I was on Gaminar last night. Your stream was featured on the front page under 'Recent Streams'. You're pulling in donations like a thousand dollars a night, huh? Why are you even working here?"

"I don't always make a thousand a night," I said defensively. "That was a one-time thing."

"Then what was the fifteen thousand the chat was talking about?"

My face must've gone red because he smiled a nasty, smug smile. "It's none of your damn business, Duncan."

"It's public knowledge," Duncan replied. "And watch how you talk to me, or I'll write you up for insubordination. Just because you don't need this job doesn't give you the right to be a bitch."

"I'm being a bitch?" I threw the rag on the ground and got to my feet. "How dare you?"

"You think you're so special now that you have some internet fame. How many sugar daddies do you have online?"

"I don't have any, but thanks for that," I said as tears sprung to my eyes. I blinked them back, refusing to cry in front of him.

Respawn, Kindra.

Duncan checked his watch. "Break's over. Get back to work."

I patted my motorcycle and headed back into hell.

—

The gnawing feeling of hunger was in my belly, twisting and turning as I scarfed down a packet of biscuits that the air hostess had handed me. It wasn't enough, but the can of coke I guzzled down was going to have to hold me over. It was way past dinnertime, but I had dinner plans with Ben and I didn't want to play the dainty eater because that was just such a cliche. I was going to dinner with an appetite, goddamnit.

When the plane landed and I stepped out of the gate, I immediately got a whiff of the strong, unpleasant scent of cigarette smoke. That's the thing about Vegas: smoking's allowed pretty much everywhere, even inside the airport. I buried memories of being a teenager in a small town, smoking on the bluffs, laughing stupidly while chatting with the other kids my age. That was years ago, and I didn't want to think about them—the friends I'd left behind to chase a pipe dream.

Using some of my Uber credits, I took a car down to the hotel, trying not to look too wide-eyed out the window. I'd been to Vegas before. Many times. My mom was a real estate agent, and she'd come for this convention every year, bringing me along. It wasn't because she cared about me; it was because having a cute kid trailing behind her in an event with a bunch of adults got her a lot of attention. She stopped bringing me after I turned ten. The cute kid years were long gone, replaced by knobby knees, braces, and uneven tans.

I got to the hotel around 8:35, giving me just enough time to check-in, rush up to my room, and then retouch my makeup and change. I hardly had time to appreciate how beautiful the view was from my room, overlooking the water. It would give me a perfect view of the water show, which I was pretty sure took place at least once an hour or so. I got myself into a fresh pair of jeans, a Fus Ro Dah shirt, and a pair of cute kicks with a Batman pattern on them.

I'm really about to do this, I thought as I got into the elevator to head down to the lobby. It was 8:59, which would make me exactly on time when I got to the ground floor. The elevator dinged and the doors opened. I walked to the lobby, looked around, but there were just so many people that I didn't find him right off the bat. I pushed my way through the crowd, walking around. I was just about to give up and call him when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around and almost lost all my equilibrium. Standing just over a head and a half taller than me, green eyes shining brightly, smile on his lips, was Ben. His brown hair was a little wavy, but it had been brushed neatly, and his clothes—fuck, his clothes! He was wearing a motherfucking Skyrim shirt too!