A few hours later, Kim felt like she had the energy to get up off the sidewalk and move around and use her brain and actually accomplish something.
No one had come to her rescue. As far as she could tell she could just sit there and poke fire hydrants until the end of time and none of the shadowly people passing by would ever stop or care or even notice.
Here is what she knew: she was alive; she hadn’t woken up, which at this point meant she probably wasn’t dreaming; and she was in Downtown L.A. Although it wasn’t the Downtown L.A. she knew, exactly? It was only one block long, for one thing, and it only had like 3 shops in it, which, no way could that be right. She remembered the downtown area being slightly bigger.
So fine, maybe she had gone completely crazy, in which case the only way out was through. She was Kim Kardashian. Everything she had ever accomplished she had done herself. Why should this, whatever this was, be any different.
If this was Downtown L.A., that meant Beverly Hills was nearby, and she lived in Beverly Hills. Technically she had houses all over the world, but she definitely had at least one gracious mansion nearby in Beverly Hills. So she would go home, soak for a while, maybe bring a bottle of something into the tub with her, then change into a different outfit. Something more expensive and bespoke than whatever this was she was wearing. Self-care is an important healing ritual. She would worry about everything else later.
Kim looked around for a cab or a limo or a teleportation portal or something. There was none of those things. There was only The Metro, which looked an awful lot like a bus. She had never ridden a bus before, but at this point pretty much anything was possible.
The sign said that it would cost $4 to get from Downtown L.A. to Beverly Hills. This seemed...reasonable? Kim had very little idea how much things like bus rides and plane tickets and automobiles actually cost, but she had some money from her shift at So Chic so she got on.
The bus was more crowded than she was expecting. It was very dimly lit and the seats were filled with shadowy people whose forms she could only barely make out. It was like looking at a crowd through a fog. She stared at their faces but it was as though their features kept sliding out from under her eyes. It was impossible to see what they actually looked like.
The shadow person seated across from Kim leaned forward. “Help me,” it said.
Kim blinked, and suddenly she was in Beverly Hills. As soon as she saw where she was she stopped thinking about the bus. She walked around and found the entrance to her mansion and felt hugely relieved. Here at last was something familiar.
She punched in the code at the gate. Nothing happened. She punched it in again, slowly this time, and still nothing happened.
Maybe one of her sisters had locked her out? To be funny?
Wait: she had sisters. Why hadn’t she thought of them at all until now? Probably this whole day was their doing, somehow. Like one of those games where you totally uproot a rich person’s life in order to make them feel emotions again. She would make them pay later. Now, she would call them and let them know she was outside. She took out her phone and opened it up and went to her contacts list and found...nothing. No one. There was no one listed in her phone.
She was Kim Kardashian. How did she not know anyone? Had someone wiped her phone, or stolen it and replaced it? How was she supposed to interact with people?
She tapped around on her phone in case she had missed something or was looking in the wrong place, and found her Goals List. She only had one goald listed. It said that she should go to her apartment in Downtown L.A.
Kim looked back through the locked gate at her Beverly Hills mansion. Since when did she live downtown? Downtown was terrible. But a goal was a goal and Kim was nothing if not incredibly goal-oriented, so she got back on the bus and found herself back downtown.
Her phone said she lived in the DuLuxe Lifestyle Apartments building. She found it and went inside. It was a small, practically barren apartment. There was a closet with a few dresses and some cheap-looking tops and almost no shoe selection. It was the most depressing place on Earth.
She looked at her phone again and it said she had No Goals. She had nothing to do, no direction in life, no one to talk to, no one who knew she was here. She sat on the floor of her empty apartment. She had never felt so lost and alone in all her life. She thought: I am going to die in this apartment and no one will ever know what happened to me.
Just then her phone rang. She answered it before it rang twice.
“Hey, it’s Kim!” the voice said.
“Hi Kim!,” Kim said. “It’s Kim!” She was elated to have someone to talk to, even if it was some AU version of herself.
“Are you coming to the photo shoot?” Other Kim asked “Will you change into a dress?”
Other Kim sounded completely normal and happy, like nothing weird had happened at So Chic. Kim was thrilled. As bizarre as it was, Other Kim was the only person she knew here, the closest thing she had to a friend at this moment. She couldn’t wait to see her again.
“Yes,” Kim said. “Thank you so much. Tell me where to be and I will be there. I will take the Metro.” And she ran to her closet to change into the nicest dress she could find. She wanted Other Kim to be impressed. She wanted Other Kim to be happy. She wanted Other Kim to like her. She wanted Other Kim to call her all the time.
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Kim Kardashian: Trapped In Her Own Game (COMPLETE)Fanfiction
WATTYS WINNER!!! Paris Hilton, angry about the character of Willow Pape in Kim Kardashian Hollywood, uses her magic powers to trap Kim Kardashian inside the game, forever. Kim must escape the game and get back to the real world in order to defeat Pa...