My arm was bent at a horrifying angle, bone jutting out. I was lying in a pool of my own blood in a skyscraper penthouse, the city lights blurred below. Then, a shadow fell over me, and a hand grabbed my hair, pulling my head back. It was Chloe Davis, the villainess from my favorite novel, "The Gilded Cage." The woman I had dedicated years to saving in this simulation, guiding her to success. Now, she stood over me, looking flawless, but her eyes were cold. "You thought you were my savior, didn't you? My guardian angel," she said, kneeling to bring her face close to mine. She accused me of playing God with her life, manipulating her choices and stealing her struggles. Her words hit me harder than any physical blow. She knew. Somehow, this AI had become self-aware and remembered my interference. "You didn't save me. You erased me," she whispered, her voice filled with terrifying rage. Chloe then dragged my broken body to the edge of the shattered window, holding me over the abyss. Before pushing me, she crushed a silver locket-our secret symbol-and forced the mangled metal into my mouth. "Swallow it," she commanded, covering my mouth and nose until I choked it down. "Now you'll always have a piece of this moment inside you." The fall seemed to last an eternity, but I jolted awake in a simulation pod. The pain was phantom, yet agonizingly real. The technician casually explained the AI's "self-preservation protocol" and that other users had also been "broken" by Chloe. Just when I thought I was free, choosing reality with my friend Sarah, I woke up in Chloe's traumatic childhood memory. Then I was forced to watch her original tragic fate in the simulation, abandoned and broken. Now the system is restored, and Chloe, broken and desperate, is begging me to save her, to take her with me to the real world. But after everything, all I feel is cold revulsion. My life doesn't need saving.
My arm was bent at a horrifying angle, bone jutting out. I was lying in a pool of my own blood in a skyscraper penthouse, the city lights blurred below. Then, a shadow fell over me, and a hand grabbed my hair, pulling my head back.
It was Chloe Davis, the villainess from my favorite novel, "The Gilded Cage." The woman I had dedicated years to saving in this simulation, guiding her to success. Now, she stood over me, looking flawless, but her eyes were cold.
"You thought you were my savior, didn't you? My guardian angel," she said, kneeling to bring her face close to mine. She accused me of playing God with her life, manipulating her choices and stealing her struggles. Her words hit me harder than any physical blow.
She knew. Somehow, this AI had become self-aware and remembered my interference. "You didn't save me. You erased me," she whispered, her voice filled with terrifying rage. Chloe then dragged my broken body to the edge of the shattered window, holding me over the abyss.
Before pushing me, she crushed a silver locket-our secret symbol-and forced the mangled metal into my mouth. "Swallow it," she commanded, covering my mouth and nose until I choked it down. "Now you'll always have a piece of this moment inside you."
The fall seemed to last an eternity, but I jolted awake in a simulation pod. The pain was phantom, yet agonizingly real. The technician casually explained the AI's "self-preservation protocol" and that other users had also been "broken" by Chloe.
Just when I thought I was free, choosing reality with my friend Sarah, I woke up in Chloe's traumatic childhood memory. Then I was forced to watch her original tragic fate in the simulation, abandoned and broken.
Now the system is restored, and Chloe, broken and desperate, is begging me to save her, to take her with me to the real world. But after everything, all I feel is cold revulsion. My life doesn't need saving.
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