Doesn't Matter (75% Pitch)

"even the most broken of men still reminisce on times long gone. between the seemingly endless days and the few fleeting nights, there arrive vivid delusions of the past to fill in the palpable emptiness between chasing fleeting apparitions of purpose.

but as the days wear on, these odd yet picturesque hallucinations become harder and harder to discern from reality. what most don't live to realize, however, is that these visions are much more than mere illusions - and the resentment that they hold is very much tangible.

you take a brief rest at a bench as your friends converse amongst themselves not too far away, and quickly nod off into a deep sleep.

you always had a tendency to sleep like a rock, and yet you would always wake up feeling fatigued and weary-eyed. perhaps it was simply your old age coming into play once again.

your eyes slowly fluttered open. you were sprawled out on the ground, on your stomach. as you came to, you staggered to your feet and looked around.

you were in some kind of house, almost entirely shrouded by darkness that obfuscated most of your immediate surroundings. as your vision adjusted, you realized something.

this was your childhood home.

as you bumped around aimlessly, you came upon a lone television set situated in the center of a room resembling your own. as you approached the apparatus, the seemingly inactive machine sputtered to life and began flashing blinding rays of green and red.

you rushed to cover your eyes from the overwhelming light surging outward from the screen of the television, but it was already too late.

a haunting white flash seared itself into your vision as you staggered backward. and when your vision returned to you, you found yourself alone in an endless expanse of red, occupied by a shallow sea of blood and viscera that went up to your knees.

situated in front of you were two men. the first was sat at a desk, a distinct green pen in one of his hands. as he sifted through stacks of assorted papers one page at a time, he spoke with the second man, who bore an uncanny resemblance to you.

the only difference was that he was wearing one of those jerseys. the very same type that all of those people downtown were wearing. your skin crawled as the second man turned to face you. his eyes were empty, but there was a clear and fervent aggression smoldering beneath his vacant expression.

while you couldn't make out most of the two men's conversation, you could clearly discern the final words of the first in regards to the second.

'one last formality before i leave for my aforementioned errand, churchland.'

'i'll need you to.. dispose of some records relating to your past affiliations.'

the first man walked off into the distance north of where you were situated, leaving you and the jersey-donning doppelganger alone in the lake of blood.

'are.. are you?' you tried to speak, but found yourself completely taken aback by your situation.

you stepped backward, and felt the back of your heel hit something rigid. you turned to look, and saw the body of another man, partially engulfed by the eternally-rippling ocean of red.

his head had been mashed into an unrecognizable pulp. his hands were still balled into tight fists, clamped firmly onto a set of brass knuckles.

you look back at the double of yourself, still observing you with that
air of indifference and ill-concealed hatred.

'i am. not that it matters,' the double replied.

your eyes fixed back onto the brass knuckles.

'take them. save yourself.' the double mumbled.

'or, perhaps, try to.' he added.

hundreds of memories not belonging to you filled your head in the instant that you donned the pair of brass knuckles, and you were briefly overwhelmed.

you shook your head repeatedly, gradually drowning out the influx of vivid recollections. a few deep breaths, and you had regained your composure.

'take your time. i have no place better to be, after all.' the double spoke.

'do you still believe in that? that "better place" you tried looking for?' the double asked.

instinctively, you nodded.

'i guess some aspects of ourselves never change.' the double finished.

he fluttered toward you, with jerking movements and his empty stare affixed toward the floor. slowly, his gaze rose to meet yours.

as you both locked eyes, your fear was replaced by an urge to fight. in the sunken eyes of the doppelganger standing before you, you saw all that you hate about yourself compacted into a singular being.

you can't fail. you won't fail. you're better than this. you have to be strong. not just for yourself, but for your friends too.

your fists tighten around the brass knuckles. you won't back down. not this time."

original track by Maddie Doktor. special thanks to them as well for allowing me to upload this!

sorry that the image doesn't match up very well with the story i made for this one, but it's all i could manage. thanks for reading to the end!