Chapter two
969 Words
In my gaming world, I was known as the Queen. My username, *ImTheQueen*, wasn’t just a title—it was an escape. Everyone called me "Queen," and for a few hours each night, I could shed the identity of the isolated, broken girl I was in real life. In the game, I wasn’t the girl who walked on eggshells to avoid punishment; I was someone my teammates cared for and respected. The game was my sanctuary. It was played in teams of four, with 100 real-life players dropped into a vast map. The goal was simple: eliminate everyone else and be the last team standing. Reaching higher levels was a slow, grueling process—100 levels in total, each requiring 100,000 points to progress. With each match yielding a meager 30 points, it felt impossible. Yet somehow, I was already at level 50.
My teammates admired me, but I didn’t play to climb the ranks. I played because, in this world, I was valued. I was part of a family.
Eventually, I created my own clan, *Bot Hunters*. The name was born out of a joke—my teammates teased me for killing AI bots instead of real players. I laughed along, knowing that deep down, I was just as good as them. Soon, my clan became popular. Not for my skills, but because I was the only girl in a male-dominated game.
My team was a colorful bunch, mostly Indian players, each with their own quirks. Jass, our Punjabi sniper, was the joker, always making us laugh. Minimax, the prone master, loved to confuse enemies by dropping to the ground mid-fight. Then there was Neveen, our lovable "Bot," who did the dumbest things and laughed it off every time. And finally, T, the romantic, hopelessly in love with a girl he met in the game. He’d abandon our matches to play with her, transforming from an elite player into a bumbling novice whenever she was around.
In just a few months, these strangers became my family. They gave me a reason to smile, a reason to hold on. At night, I could escape Muk’s suffocating grip and enter a world where I mattered.
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**Present Day: Eight Months into the COVID Lockdown**
My phone buzzed, the vibration cutting through the early morning silence. Muk’s name flashed on the screen. It was 7 a.m., and I’d just woken up, ready to start my day with a workout.
“Hi, baby,” I answered softly.
“Why the f**k did it take you a whole minute to answer?” His voice was already sharp, angry.
I sighed inwardly. There wasn’t a single day he called without tearing into me.
“I’m sorry, baby,” I said quickly. “I was in the washroom washing my face, and my phone was on the bed.”
“Are you talking back to me?” he snapped, his voice rising.
“No, baby,” I replied, keeping my tone calm and careful. I knew his moods all too well. When Muk woke up like this, I became his outlet, his punching bag.
“Watch me come over and show you who the f**k I am,” he growled before hanging up.
My stomach sank. I knew what was coming. He was on his way, and it wasn’t to talk.
I dressed quickly, choosing an outfit I knew he wouldn’t criticize. Then I waited. Ten minutes later, I heard his car pull up outside.
I made my way downstairs, trying to steady my breathing. My mother greeted me with a warm smile.
“Good morning, mummy,” I said, forcing a smile of my own.
“Good morning, my love,” she replied, kissing my cheek. “Where are you off to?”
“Muk is here,” I lied. “We’re going out.”
I couldn’t tell her the truth. She didn’t know what he did to me. If she found out, Muk would only make things worse.
Outside, Muk sat in his car, waiting. As I approached, he rolled down the window.
“Get the f**k inside before I drag you by your hair,” he hissed.
I swallowed my pride and climbed into the passenger seat. The moment I shut the door, he sped off, heading to his usual spot—a secluded dirt path under a massive tree.
When he parked, he turned to me, his eyes blazing. “b***h, do you remember what I told you?”
“You said to answer your calls before the second ring,” I whispered, my voice barely audible.
“Then why the f**k did it take you six rings today?” he snapped, his voice like thunder.
“I…I was waiting for your text, and when you didn’t text, I went to wash my face,” I stammered, trembling.
“Even if you’re dying, you answer my f*****g phone!” he screamed.
I nodded, my heart racing.
He grabbed my chin roughly, forcing me to look at him. “Look at me when I’m talking to you, you stupid b***h,” he snarled, pinching my skin until tears blurred my vision.
When he finally let go, his fist connected with the side of my head.
He stormed out of the car, cussing under his breath, leaving me alone with my thoughts. My body shook as panic set in. My breathing grew shallow, and my vision blurred. Panic attacks had become a part of my life ever since the first beating.
I stayed in the car, fighting to control myself. I pinched my arms, bit my lips, anything to keep from breaking completely. When that didn’t work, I turned on myself, hitting my own body, cursing myself for being weak.
In the game, I was a queen. In reality, I was his prisoner.
- Writer
