Leo was back in the computer lab. The bell was ringing. Maya was packing up her bag.

He clicked.

He pressed the arrow keys. Isaac walked forward. The other Leo laughed and fired a volley of spinning, razor-sharp report cards. Leo dodged two, took a third to the face. One heart. Empty.

He reached the Womb. The floors were wet, organic, pulsating. The enemies were no longer recognizable. They were jagged shards of his own memories: the time he froze during a presentation, the email his dad never replied to, the empty chair at parent-teacher night. His little Isaac’s health bar was a single red heart.

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