Flip the Coin [BL]-Chapter 338. Overnight II

My fist hurt like hell; that guy sure had a sturdy face.

"WHAT THE FUCK?!" Someone screamed; someone else cursed.

He fell back into the men behind him when my instinct told me to dodge to the side. I followed through with it, and when I looked up, I saw the Hulk also smashing an audience member with a punch that was surely intended for me.

The audience member fell, and the guy he fell into punched the Hulk.

"STOP!" The guard yelled, or at least I think it was him; everywhere I heard the same voice, and only when I spoke did it sound slightly different.

Doesn’t that make me the most special among all these fuckers?

I broke into laughter when I received a kick in the stomach, no idea from whom. The next time he kicked, I grabbed onto his leg, pulled him until he fell, and then struck his knee with my fist, leaving it bent in a very unnatural way.

"STOP RIGHT NOW, STOP!!"

Two guys threw themselves on me and rained punches over my stomach and face, and the yelling continued, the crowd cheering, clearly not for me, as the circle started to fill itself slowly but surely.

"SHOW HIM!"

"HE DOESN’T KNOW ABOUT THE RULES!"

"KILL THAT FUCKER!!"

"HAHAHAHAHAHA!" I looked at the light above while hitting one of the guys on me, striking his chin.

What a surreal world we live in.

Here I am, fighting with myself; myself fighting against me—me, me, me, me, me.

It was getting warmer.

They are everywhere; I am everywhere. I am the guy punching; I am the guy receiving the strikes; I am the guy delivering and bleeding.

Is that it? Is that the gist of how this works?

You get stuffed with your own image until you choke; you see yourself so many times until you only want to kill them to finally be free from yourself.

How can someone not hate themselves after experiencing all this?

And I don’t mean a group fight with your counterparts.

I was on the floor, swallowed the blood in my mouth, and grabbed the crotch of one of my attackers, squeezing until I heard a shrill scream that gave me secondhand embarrassment to no end.

What I mean is, if you were locked inside a cell with someone for about eighty years, and you knew you wouldn’t get out before the time was up, if you saw that person shitting, digging their nose, farting, and burping to no end, and if you even heard each and every disgusting thought of the person with you, then tell me, would you be able to love them?

I raised my upper body until I kneeled down, ramming my head into the stomach of the body nearest to me before taking off one of my shoes. Then I jumped up and was again on my feet.

If you then see the cringy behavior of your prison mate, seeing and feeling how they crave attention, the ugliness of each of the fleeting and insincere emotions they have—not one sign of sovereignty, not one sign of coolness, not one bit like how you thought a human should be and behave, but just a living being, laid bare in front of you with all the scars, the vomit, smegma, snot, earwax, blood, tears, drool, piss, and shit—all and every part you and everybody else consist of, then tell me...

Would you still be able to love them?

A fist hit my head, right next to my ear, and a bell rang beautifully inside my head.

I used my shoe to smash whoever was near me before throwing it at someone who stood sideways not far away.

"WHAT THE HELL?!?!" While I was choked from behind, I could still read his lips amidst the screams and curses as the guy I struck turned to the guy next to him to punch him.

"AHHAHAHAHAHAA!"

No.

How would you be able to love yourself when you are seeing and witnessing each and every aspect, every side of how disgustingly raw this life really is?

Just how DAMN FORTUNATE we are to NOT see or witness the real truth in any other being, because wouldn’t you either vomit yourself into oblivion or be disgusted to death?

But there is still one person you are chained to, not once graced with blindness or the ability to unsee what you witnessed.

I held onto the arm around my throat and raised my legs in the air to kick into the crowd that had now taken over the whole circle. Nobody knew who was who as they were attacking each other.

"BEAUTIFUL!" I screeched while seeing black dots, liking that I could tell apart my voice from the others with ease.

IT WAS GETTING HEATED.

Caught inside a prison, never free of oneself.

I headbutted the guy behind me, and when this didn’t work, I turned my arms back and grabbed his throat in return before moving forward and throwing him over my shoulder into the crowd.

"AAHAHAHAHAH!!" I got hit in the jaw again; I felt a few teeth coming loose.

I, for one, say a bit of self-hate for your eternal prison mate is absolutely normal.

The whole room were now fighting among themselves, everyone enraged, everyone eager to get the self-hate out of their system.

Ah, fuck, you know what?

Just seeing these dumb fucks getting so easily provoked nearly brought me to feel some self-love again.

I got my second shoe and smashed the next one before throwing it at the back of the crowd so that NO ONE WOULD BE LEFT OUT OF THIS LITTLE OVERNIGHT SCRUFFLE!

That was when I got kicked in the back and landed on the ground again, feeling feet trampling over me, stepping on my ribs, on my face, on my legs, and on parts that shouldn’t be stepped on except by your lover.

Nobody attacked me anymore, as I was already lost to the surface—a forgotten victim who only served as a slight, strangely out-of-place elevated bump on the ground.

I let the pain pass, let it flood through me as I looked up in the moments that I didn’t have to shield my eyes to protect them. I looked up at the light that occasionally came through bodies above and around me.

Fuck, this whole thing is such a shitty, cringy, and obvious metaphor; whoever came up with it mustn’t be right in the head.

Look how they step on me, Henry.

Look at how they run all over me, Henry.

Look how I am hated, discarded, forgotten, and struggled against as if I were being my own mortal enemy.

Each and every time, it is me doing this to myself.

Anyway. Even if I die from fighting constantly and everlastingly against myself, I have to say that the devastating losses I had to take made the times I got the upper hand somewhat worthwhile.

What can you do?

Can’t choose your prison mate, can you?

I got kicked in the head, and that was it for me.

Kenny vs. Kenny:

Kenny won.

Haha.

*************

Snapping my eyes open, I nearly thought I was still hearing them, cursing and screaming, yelling and fighting, but that wasn’t the case; I only heard the crying of a child. It was loud and deafening as it was echoing through the vicinity.

And instead of darkness that was occasionally pierced by that one sole and lonely spotlight, I saw the sky through a milky white surface.

I was lying among black ruins and debris, and when I raised my battered body, the mute child fell into my arms, nearly making me cry as well.

Damn, that hurt.

My eyes searched for Henry, and when I found him, my heart dropped.

While the child and I were protected by a see-through crystalline little dome, Henry wasn’t inside with us; he stood there all alone in front of a gigantic skeleton, at least seven times the size of the dragon.

The bones had taken on the form of a...

"What is this?" I uttered breathlessly.

Of a spider.

A gigantic spider with hairy black bones as its feet; the radius, when outstretched, should be as big as the forest plus the destroyed black skyscraper ruins, except that on each of the legs was a big black bony hand. 𝒻𝑟ℯℯ𝑤𝑒𝑏𝑛𝘰𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝒸𝑜𝘮

The main body that was surrounded by the spider legs was formed like a tower of skulls; out of the tower, there reached more spider legs with hands at each end; the higher up, the whiter the color turned, and the higher up, the shorter the legs and the smaller the hands, until on the top, there was a single white skeleton, emerging from the spider tower of skulls, being paraded there, as if it were a holy figure.

I peeled the kid from me as I stood up and placed my hand on the crystalline surface.

Speechless, spellbound, enchanted, aroused, and terrorized by the picture of the sole, lonely back that stood in front of the monster.

All alone, neither flinching nor panicking.

How could there exist such a strong and beautiful person?

I nearly had the illusion that this was my salvation, that if I gave over the key to the cell I was locked into, he would get me out and protect me from my forever prison mate.

I heard a CRACK in the back of my mind—something shattering.

Damn... I am more than willing to believe in this poisonous lie.

I am more than willing if it’s you.