The next level
Video games are more addictive[ə'dɪktɪv] than ever. This is what happens when kids can’t turn them off.
by Caitlin Gibson['ɡibsn]
It was nearing/nɪr/ midnight/'mɪdnaɪt/ when she slipped/slipt/ out of bed, padded/'pædid/ across the wood/wʊd/ floors and peered/pɪr/ into the room across the hall /hɔl/. Her 15-year-old son was still awake, like she knew he would be, sitting in his bed, staring/'stɛrɪŋ/ at his laptop /'læptɑp/screen. This had long been his nightly/'naɪtli/ ritual/'rɪtʃuəl/: After hours spent playing video games — riveted/'rivitid/ by a world of guns/gʌn/ and gore/ɡɔr/, adrenaline[æˈdrɛnəˌlɪn] pumping/'pʌmpiŋ/ — he would unwind/ˌʌn'waɪnd/ by watching videos of other gamers playing.
Turn it off, she said.
I need to finish, he said.
No, she said.
Their voices got louder. She doesn’t remember exactly/ɪɡ'zæktli/ what made him reach for the glass/ɡlæs/ on his bedside /'bɛd'saɪd/ table. He threw it with such force/fɔrs/ that it spun /spʌn/ across the room and shattered /'ʃætɚ/ against his closet /‘klɑzət/ door, carving['kɑrvɪŋ] a two-inch[ɪntʃ] gash[ɡæʃ] in the white painted wood. Tiny['taɪni] shards[ʃɑrd] glinted[ɡlɪnt] on the striped/'straɪpɪd/ rug[rʌɡ].
By then, the family’s stately/'stetli/ home in New York was riddled/'ridld/ with such scars/skɑr/ — nicks/nɪk/ in the walls, scratches/skrætʃ/ in the floor, a divot/'dɪvət/ in the marble/'mɑrbl/ countertop/'kaʊntɚtɑp/ lining/'laɪnɪŋ/ the kitchen/'kɪtʃɪn/ sink/sɪŋk/. All remnants/'remnənt/ of the boy’s outbursts/'aʊtbɝst/, which had intensified/ɪn'tɛnsɪfaɪ/ over the years, almost always triggered/'trɪgɚ/ by a simple request from his parents: Byrne, please turn off the game. Please get off the computer.
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