All that's Left, Origins

Girl's Night Out

"Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,

That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,

And then is heard no more. It is a tale

Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,

Signifying nothing."

-William Shakespeare (In Macbeth)

Thomas's & The Batter's POV

Thomas stood there, gripping the sword in his hand. It had a strange feeling inside of it, almost as if some energies radiated off it. He shut his eyes and breathed deeply, raising the sword in front of him.

"I won't make your death meaningless Jacob...I promise." He said in his mind. Thomas took another deep breath and opened his eyes. Suddenly, he took off into a full sprint through the field behind the house. He jumped up, slashing through two targets he set up, and landing back down, still running. One of the dummies he put up was holding a gun and was aiming at him. Thomas ducked under the dummy and slashed its legs, causing it to fall. He then turned around and pounced upon the dummy, piercing it's back with the sword.

Every morning he would do something like this. He'd set up every sort of situation, and would run through it the best he could.

"Forty seconds. Niiiice." Jack said, sitting on a stump with a stopwatch.

"Thanks." Thomas gasped out, breathless and tired. A good distance away, The Batter laid on his bed staring at the ceiling. The usual broken thoughts and delusions weren't here this morning.

"What are you doing?" asked a voice from the nothingness in the room.

"I don't know," answered The Batter, still looking at the ceiling. He got up and went over to an old radio in his room. He turned it on, and a familiar sadness came over him when he heard the song.

I hurt myself today

To see if I still feel

"Turn it off Don, I don't wanna hear this song right now." the voice said again, a hint of irritation in his voice. Don ignored the voice and left it going.

I focus on the pain

The only thing that's real

Don sat down, feeling his sadness grow. These were the only times he ever got without him hanging over his shoulders. But even then he could feel him begin to take back control.

The needle tears a hole

The old familiar sting

Try to kill it all away

But I remember everything

A picture of Thomas holding his gun at him flashed in his head, and he immediately began to weep.

"I'm sorry....I'm sorry.....it wasn't me......it wasn't me......" he croaked out through his rough sobs.

"Of course it wasn't you....you're too weak and spineless. Worthless piece of shit." said the voice, closer to him now. Don looked ahead of him at the mirror on the wall. Suddenly a memory of Alison came into his mind.

What have I become

My sweetest friend

Everyone I know

Goes away in the end

"You really shouldn't listen to depressing stuff during the end of the world." she had said to him that day.