Addiction: The First Region
Author: Polaris Zark

Chapter 1
The Replacement!

Warning: this chapter contains mild language.



I swear this is true! Believe it or not, I don’t care. It’s just been on my mind and I just want to get it out! I’ve been feeling pretty depressed you see. I had come to love the people and creatures from the other world. And now I’m in this world and no one believes me, and it’s killing me!

I should really begin on the Monday of a normal school week. I was going to start back about six months before, to give you a good idea of the loss I felt after working so hard on the game, but that would be pointless. It would bore you. Though, in the back of my mind it’s still a good idea.

Now it maybe cheesy to start at the beginning of the week, but that’s when it started. I had woken up late and I knew this, but I still couldn’t get out of bed. The house was cold, and I was bare underneath my warm duvet. The early morning air is not warm in the UK. My mother walked in once again, her voice nagging. The tone she spoke in pierced my ears. It made me squirm. She has a way of doing it.

“Okay,” I shouted annoyed by her intrusion of my bedroom. After I heard her go down stairs I felt I was safe so I quickly rushed out of bed, and whipped the uniform out of my wardrobe. Cursing in my mind, I dragged my feet downstairs.

“You’re a naughty little boy!” shouted my stressed mum. “I have to be in work in half an hour and you haven’t had breakfast!”

I had obviously missed the bus, so my mum had to give me a lift to school. Luckily her work was just around the corner from school, so it wasn’t much problem for her to take me. But I would take at least ten minutes to be ready.

Walking to the table, I groaned. “I’m not a little boy! I’m fourteen for fuck’s sake,” I was annoyed too, just something that comes with morning. I’m not a morning person, and never have been. I was up late on Pokémon Fire Red last night, so that didn’t help.

“Don’t use that language with me,” said the mum. “In fact, just get in the car now!” she screeched. Before I had even sat down at the seat, my mother had marched over and grabbed my bowl. There was already milk and cornflakes in there. She had prepared them already, because it would take my sluggish self even longer to do that, as well as eat it. I groaned and scanned the floor for my shoes which I’d kicked off somewhere. The milky mess was tipped into my dog’s food bowl. Rocky, who had been cowering from the noise, suddenly pricked up. He rushed over and slurped up the food.

“Get in the car!” my mother repeated, just as I was slipping on my shoes. I didn’t bother with the laces. I stomped over the wooden floor boards and picked up my bag, and slung it over one shoulder. I walked out of the door without saying a word. I was annoyed at my mother for not letting me eat. I got to the car and reached for the handle. It was locked for god’s sake. This happened every morning I went with my mum. At least it was only a couple minutes in the cold morning air that I had to wait for my mother to emerge and unlock the door. I took my hand from my pocket reluctantly and- hang on! I didn’t have my gameboy.

“Umm, I just need to get some homework,” I said, and rushed back up to the house. In my room I grabbed my gameboy and took a quick breather, looking in the mirror. A pale face with dark sacks beneath it’s eyes stared back. It had long mousy blond hair and dull green eyes and a scar on the left eyebrow, parallel with the scar on my right eyebrow. The face disappeared though, as I ran back downstairs, gameboy in hand.

“You’re a naughty little boy,” my mum repeated. “That’s a gameboy, not homework.”

“Mum, I’m fourteen.” I repeated, cursing at her again.

“It’s those stupid games that make you use horrible language and give you that attitude,” she said, accelerating from the parking spot, a little faster than usual.

“Pokémon has no swearing in it at all!” I said, annoyed at her misunderstanding of video games. “The age rating for Fire Red is ‘three plus’.”

“Even so, it’s still bad for your health,”

“I don’t curse because of video games. I curse because I’m angry,”

“And you wouldn’t be angry if you hadn’t been up all night on your gameboy thing,”

“Yeah, but I could’ve been up all night reading and still be like this. And also, it’s not my fault that school is so early in the morning.”

The route I go to school is supposedly the most scenic route in Wales. Having gone to school on that route so many times, on a bus full of scornful wannabe ruffians, it kind of sickened me. I despised the lake, fields, mountains, and villages we drove through.

My mother pulled in at the side of the road and leaned over to kiss me on the cheek.

“Goodbye, honey bear,” she said. I got out of the car saying nothing. I wasn’t entirely pleased with her for persecuting Pokémon. Crossing the road I looked at my watch. 8:55 was the time displayed. My first lesson had already began, I thought scowling, as I headed to the office to register.

After exchanging a few words with the receptionist, I walked to the classroom. When I arrived, I knocked before walking in. The room was cold. I apologised for being late but the teacher scowled.

 “Could you stay behind afterwards please?”  She said. I nodded blankly.

Now, for the benefits of people from this world that I mention in this, I will not use their real names. This certain teacher will be called Mrs Curtain. I shall use outrageous names to emphasise the fact they are not real. Also, I will not say what she teaches, so, she teaches fabrics.

Mrs Curtain shut the door after the last person had left. I shivered, not because I was scared, but because the room was so cold.

“Why were you late, Osian?” she asked, coldly, matching the temperature of the room.

“I missed the bus.”

“Like last week? Like all the other times?” she was begging to shout. I nodded. “Well, sort yourself out! Get a haircut! Don’t be so disorganised.”

“Sorry,” I looked up at the woman’s face. Her grey eyes were fixed to mine, and her lips were tightened together. She had neatly cropped black hair that reached to just above the shoulders. It was as if someone had shoved a vase over her head, and cut along it.

“Why are your hands in your pockets?” she was eyeing me, looking for all faults.

“Because it’s cold in here,” I said bluntly.

“Don’t answer back,” she ordered. I frowned at her. She had asked me a question. “Get them out of your pockets then!” she shouted, raising her voice even more. The question was probably rhetorical.

“Sorry,” I folded my arms. She looked at my pocket and saw the silver corner of my gameboy-advanced-super-portable.

“Give that to me,” she said, pointing at my pocket.

“Why?” What had my gameboy to do with this?

“You were playing with it in your pocket,” she said. That was hardly an adequate reason. “Give it to me now!”

“No.” I refused. “I wasn’t playing-“

“Give it to me right now!” That was a pretty scary shout. It looked like she would rip my head off and eat it, so I quickly pulled it out of my pocket and handed it to her. She snatched it away quickly and pulled the game out. She returned the gameboy but kept my prized game. I had worked so hard for those Pokémon but she, just put the game in her pocket.

“This is not good enough Osian,” she shouted. “Get out.”

I hesitated for a moment, but she glared at me. For a moment I thought she’d turned into an evil demon, who was about to suck out my soul. I rushed out of the classroom.

The rest of the day was spent worrying about Fire Red, and when I went back at the end of the day, she’d gone. I got on the bus sulking, and hoping I’d get the game back.

“What’s up, ugly?” I heard someone say from the back of the bus. I ignored them, and thought how stupid they are by having vocabulary so limited. They had to insult me because of what I look like. In fact I was surprised he noticed I wasn’t feeling too good. Well, maybe he’d have said it anyway.

 

The next morning I was up on time. They day went normally, and I was at school on time. It was on rare occasion that I was looking forward to fabrics. I had it third lesson. When I walked in I went straight to her. She looked at me, scowling as usual.

“Can I have my game back please Miss?” I said. She laughed, which was quite mean, I thought.

“I’ve confiscated it,” she said. I looked at her. “You won’t get it back,” she said.

“But that game was a Christmas present,” I said. “You have to give it back, or it’s practically stealing.” I was outraged. She just smiled at me and told me to sit down.

At the end of the lesson, she left the room before most of us. She must have needed the loo. I saw my chance, and searched her desk. It wasn’t on top of her desk, or in the drawers. I was just double checking, when Mr Cuddles, the headmaster walked in. Mr Cuddles was big in every way, besides his tiny, bald head.

“What on earth are you doing?” he demanded, making me jump. I explained what happened, and how I thought that it was under legal obligation that she should give the game back.

“I don’t believe you,” said Mr Cuddles. “Come with me to my office.” I followed him to a large room full of filing cabinets. He told me to sit down, so I relaxed into the comfy chairs. He told me to wait while he fetched Mrs Curtain. After what felt like two seconds, he returned with the evil teacher at his side.

“So what happened, Missus Curtain?” asked Mr Cuddles, his voice stern.

“He was playing with his gameboy, so I took the game from it,” she said, innocently. Cuddles looked at me.

“I had my hands in my pockets, and also the gameboy was in my pocket. When I took my hand out, she saw it and accused me of playing with it. She took the game, and told me that I won’t get it back.”

“Ahem,” said Mrs Curtain. “You were playing with it.”

“But is it true that you won’t give it back?” asked Mr Cuddles, his voice now sterner.

“Well,” said Curtain, a little uneasy. “I have disposed of it,” she said. “Humanely,” she added, as if it were an animal. My heart sank.  Water built up in the corners of my eyes. I quickly wiped it away, though.

“You should pull yourself together, Missus Curtain!” snapped Cuddles, now angry. He turned to me. “Missus Curtain will buy you another copy. Off you go to your lesson now,” he said.

At lunch, I found my best friend, Bark-face. We weren’t in the same classes much, but we always met at lunch. I told him what happened, but was surprised by his reaction. Instead of a surprised laugh, I just heard: “You’re still playing? Haven’t you grown out of it now?”

“Umm, this is Pokémon we’re talking about, right?”

“Yeah, I don’t mean Pokémon, I mean Fire Red,” he spoke carefully. “While you’re messing about trying to get a full Pokédex, I’m conquering Pokémon Black! You need to get the latest games, man.”

“Well, I’m sure I will now that I’ve lost my save file. I’m just fonder of the original one-hundred-and-fifty-one.” This was true, and still is. I’ve had favourites from all generations, but I like the first ones.  “But I wanna complete them in order. I’ll do Johto, then Hoenn, then Sinnoh, and then I’ll go onto the new region. What’s it called?”

Bark-face answered without hesitation. “Unova,” he said.

We continued our discussion, and that frustrated me. I wasn’t keeping up with the evolution of the Pokémon Games. I also learned that the Black and White games are the best selling Pokémon games ever.

A few days later I had my next fabrics lesson. Mrs Curtain called me back. I was excited to get my new game, but at the same time sad. I’d lost my hard work. All I’d needed was thirty Pokémon. But at least this would keep me going until I bought the next game.

“Well, here’s your stupid game,” sighed Mrs Curtain. She scowled at me. “I’ve got a six month suspension,” she said. “All because of you,” she seemed a little put out.

“Sorry,” I said, and walked to the door. But she kept talking.

“It was his last straw,” I turned around, frowning. She looked up, and her demonic look returned. “You’re not really sorry, are you? You’ll probably be laughing at it with your friends later,” she looked and sounded dangerous. “But the game is a special treat. This version is more realistic than the last,” her scowl turned to a smile for a split second, but then she shouted: “GET OUT!”

On the bus home, I was puzzled. What did she mean by that? It’s more realistic than the last version of Pokémon Fire Red? I thought they only made two versions of a game, and that was language. Perhaps the new Fire Reds that were out at that time had had their graphics upgraded, or something. But still, at the back of my mind, I knew there was a different reason.

Home at last! I rushed upstairs to find my gameboy without even saying ‘hello’ to my parents. I tore open the new game’s box. I inserted the cartridge. I switched on the game, and immediately fell to the floor. I had never felt that same pain before in my entire life! I was writhing in pain. I screamed out, and my leg hit my bedside table. The lamp fell off, and hit the floor with a crash. The bedroom started fading away just as my parents rushed in. Pitch black.




Hi there! This book is not fully planned out, just some fun writing while I work on my novel. I'm planning it chapter by chapter, and writing it chapter by chapter, and unfortunately, it's in first person (which I hate). I don't know why I chose to do this in this narrative, I just did.

If you enjoyed this chapter, or didn't, rate and comment please! That would be so awesome! I'll try and check out your stuff too.

And yes, this chapter was pretty boring, but I'm in Pokéworld now! It's gonna be fun!

 

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