He had a plan. To what purpose? To what greater good? In Axl we trusted.
⚠️WARNINGS: Sex, Drugs, Violence, Profanity,
Explosions - you name it, it is in here
*Mature audiences only, please*
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
..."It wouldn't do me much good to off myself, now would it?"
I drag myself painfully to my knees. "That makes no sense."
"What about any of this makes sense?" Axl screams wildly and then grits his teeth, speaking through them. "Let me just lay this down for you, Einstein. Plain and fucking simple. I am you. You are me. We are one and the same." He spits rage.
Right. My broken body is barely holding itself together and I look at him. As unblemished as ever. There's nothing alike about us right now, and yet he's telling me . . .
"But you have a house, you..."
"Rented. In. Your. Name." he says deliberately, lifting both eyebrows expectantly, waiting for me to catch up.
"You started all this demolition cult bullshit!"
"We did," Axl huffs in agitation. "You know, this is a delusion, Kurt. Your delusion. I let you go off into the world on the condition that you'd keep your shit together and you've been doing just that. Pretending to live a decent snowflake, materialistic life. But then you started fucking up." he spits, irritated with me.
"I've never done anything wrong!" I strain through the blood in my mouth. It's true. I've always been the shining, stinking example of all that is bland and boring and perfect.
"That window to your bedroom didn't just magically break itself." Axl walks to the gun and kicks it into another corner. Even farther away.
"What? The one that was in my condo? You're blaming me for that?"
"Well, not really. It was the girl who broke the window."
"What girl?"
I don't remember any girl.
"That call girl you picked up at a bar who looked just like Tori," he snarls her name. "You didn't go to the insomnia group for two weeks and you fucking cracked in half. You brought her home and tried to fuck her and but of course your pathetic ass freaked her out instead. Cried to her, then started beating yourself up. She panicked and broke out of there and what do you do? Go insane on an anxiety attack." He's grimacing with disgust.
"I did what?"
"I'm only here because I had to come clean up after you. Why do you think I blew up your condo? How do you think I even know to blow shit up?"
Because I know how to?
"You did that?"
"We did that," Axl corrects me. "You just got all the glory."
"Bullshit," I practically gag on blood. "Next you're gonna tell me that we're both fucking Tori."
"That fucking girl," Axl rolls his eyes. "We're gonna have to do something about her. She's caused too many problems."
"This isn't her fault." I'm quick to defend her because I just know he'll do something to her if he thinks she's in the way.
"No, this is because of your complete fucking meltdown over her!" Axl shudders, shaking off the feel of her mouth. "I didn't think it could be possible, but I'm pretty damn convinced you went off and fell in love." he scoffs.
"Yeah, I know she's pretty fucking unlovable, but it's not impossible."
"I'm not talking about her. It's you. We're not exactly the warm and fuzzy type. Falling in love isn't something we just do."
"You don't fall in love?"
"No. Much less with a lying bitch like that." He sounds disgusted again, like I asked him to drink his own piss.
"You're the one who's also fucking her!" I accuse, throwing explosives into an already raging inferno. Axl boils over, spewing vexation.
"There is no me and you, Kurt!" he howls. "There is only US. When I fuck her, you fuck her. When she fucks me, she's fucking you. I'm ready for you to get this through your stoney fucking skull, I am not only just your goddamn imaginary friend!"
If he's saying what I think he's saying, everything he's been doing has actually been me this whole time. Every fight in a deserted parking lot and basement, drowning in delusion and trying to beat it out of myself.
Every kiss.
Every hard, fast fuck.
Every servant.
Every club.
He's been my goddamn alter-ego and a figment of my imagination all along.
I use his moment of self indulgent ranting to re-arm myself. Slide across the floor and scrabble for the gun. I can barely get a good grip on it and I stick it in my mouth.
"Now, you're just pissing me off." Axl glares, quaking with barely controlled rage. You can't talk around the barrel of a gun. Everything just comes out in vowels so I pull it free, the tip dripping with bloody saliva.
"I don't need you." I argue.
"Keep telling yourself that, princess."
"I don't believe you!" It hurts my insides, but I shout at him.
