The Phoenix Plan

My phone buzzed on the morning of my SATs. A text from Liam, my older brother, who vanished three years ago, right after his own SATs. "Don't take the test. I'll explain. Don't tell Mom." But the woman fussing over me wasn' t my Mom. The scar on her neck was on the wrong side. My 'dad' wore his watch on the wrong wrist. They were imposters, eerily calm, forcing me towards that exam-the last thing Liam had endured before he disappeared. Then, Liam's best friend, Ethan, seemed to join their twisted game. He calmly told me Liam was dead and I was hallucinating. My phone, once full of my own proof, was wiped clean. They were systematically gaslighting me, pushing me to question my sanity. Why were they so obsessed with this test? What was truly happening? Was I insane, or was it all a terrifying lie? Just as I stood on the brink of despair, another text from Liam appeared, seemingly from nowhere. He used our private "Phoenix Plan" code. He confirmed my terrifying suspicion: I was trapped. In a simulation. And to truly escape, he wrote, "You have to jump. From where you are now." It was my only hope. So, I jumped.