(Open to Tracer only. OOC comments allowed.)
Why is it so bright?
I hold a hand up to my face as I open my eyes, the searing light scorching my eyes. I squint, trying to see where I am without going blind. Why is it so bright here? Even the floor I’m sitting on is white! But there seems to be nothing here other than white light. Where am I?
SMACK
Ow! Fuck shit! What the hell was that?!
“Open your eyes, dumbass! I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for months!”
Whose voice is that? It kind of sound like me… I slowly open my eyes, trying to adjust them to the light, only to see… a naked man standing in front of me?! And… and… he looks like me! What the fuck is this shit?! Did I get drunk again? Damn you Grace and your spiked punch!
“You’re not drunk, and you’re not hallucinating, numb nuts”
I look up at my doppelganger in shock. “You can read my mind?!”
The copy shrugged, “I am your mind.”
I gape for about 10 seconds before speaking. “Bullshit. That’s bullshit. I’m drunk.”
My copy looked at me exasperatingly. “Do you remember drinking anything?”
I shake my head. “No.”
“Exactly.” The copy of me smirked. “You’re in your soul room. That’s why it’s so bright in here. You really do love the light don’t you, Malik?”
I frowned, suspicious of where this was going. “Yeah, I guess.”
“Then why do you insist on living such a dark life?” my copy asked.
I scowled, not exactly wanting to answer that question. Instead iI ask another: "If this is my soul room, why is there nothing here but light?"
My copy replies calmly. "Because you havee an emptiness inside you that needs to be filled."
I scowl again. Who is this guy?
“Who are you?” I ask.
“I’m you.” I frowned and my copy paused. “Okay, that’s not true. I’m kinda like your conscious… the true you… A manifestation of your thoughts, likes and dislikes.”
My gape as I think of something. “You’re another dark side?! Like a yami?!”
My copy’s eyes widen in surprise. “Oh, hell no. I’m not a yami. I hate yamis. That one you made a few years ago tried to lock both of us away. I’m not a yami. Like I said, I’m kinda a version of you.”
I raise an eyebrow, slightly calmed down, but with questions still lingering. “If you’re me, then why are you naked?”
The doppelganger shrugged again. “I’m a manifestation of you, remember? You like being naked, don’t you, Malik?”
“No,” I stated. That was a bit of a lie.
“Bullshit. You love it. You love being naked in front of another man. You whore!” he sneered.
“Hey! If you’re me, then why are you insulting me?” I yell.
“Because it’s true! You know it’s true! You know that little voice in the back of your head that tells you how much of a slut you are after you sleep with another man? That’s me! The real you- the you that knows what’s right!” He jeers.
I cross my arms defiantly. “You’re not making any sense.”
SMACK
“What the fuck?! Stop slapping me, you bastard!” I scream. “What is with you?! You’re not me! You’re nothing like me!”
“Are you sure about that?” He smirked. “I never said I was you. I’m a manifestation of you. You, only smarter. I’m the part of your brain that knows better. That knows what’s right and wrong. The 'you' that the world sees unfortunately doesn’t. I’m here to change that. It’s time for a wake up call. Again.” He sighed.
“Again?” I ask.
He sighed once more. “Yes, ‘again’. You don’t even remember do you? I must not have made a good impression last time. The mind doesn’t remember things that go on in the soul room very well, it seems.
“I’ve met you before? When?” I ask
“Whenever you’re in a state of emotional weakness or doubt. Like, after you have sex, for instance.” he responds.
“I’m not emotionally weak after I have sex, you… you… imitation!” I yell, struggling to find the correct word to describe this... thing.
My copy deadpans. “Seriously? That’s the best insult you can come up with?” He sighs and shakes his head, continuing, “And yes, you are weak. You’re in a state of guilt. You just don’t want to believe it- that you’d be guilty about something you so enjoy. It’s the weakness of all humans- to deny what makes you weak.”
I scowl, I have nothing to say to that.
My copy kneels down in front of me, looking righht into my face. “You know what you’re doing is wrong. I’m here to turn you around. I suffer when you suffer, Malik. And you’re suffering right now, because you’re so guilty about how much of a whore you are.”
Okay. That’s it. Enough of this shit. It's payback time.
SMACK
“Take that, you bastard!” I yell as I bitch-slap the doppelganger across the face. “I am no whore!”
The doppelganger falls to the ground, reeling in shock that I turned on him. Serves him right! How dare he call me those things!
But suddenly, I hear a chuckle come from my copy. He mumbles, “Humans get so mad when they have to face the truth.”
I growl. This guy needs to shut the fuck up, right now. He’s seriously pissing me off.
“Eight. Eight men you’ve had in your short time out of the Pharaoh’s tombs. None lovers, not even one of them. All prostitutes and flings.”
“I can do whatever I want with my life.” I state.
“And hurt yourself in the process?” He asks.
“I don’t care. I want to die anyway.” I reply.
“You only want to die because you can’t find a handsome prince charming to sweep you off your feet and carry you away to his castle. But of course you can’t! You’re too busy with cheap fucks!” He yells in my face.
“Don’t judge me!” I yell back.
SMACK
“I can judge you as much as I want! I practically am you!” he shouted. “You’re stuck in a self-destructive, counter-productive cycle, Malik. And you need to get out of it or your mind and your body will turn against you.’
I frown. “That’s impossible .I can’t stop. I’m addicted. If you knew anything about me, you’d know that.”
“I know everything about you.” He stated roughly. “I know you’re hurting yourself.”
“Shut up…” I mumble under my breath.
He continues. “I know you’ll never find your prince charming if you keep going the way you are.”
“Shut up.”
“I know you’re a whore and that you want to change. You just don’t have the guts or motivation, you weakling!
“Shut up!”
“I know you want to hurt yourself and yet achieve happiness at the same time. Well, guess what?! It doesn’t work that way!”
“SHUT UP!”
“Keep this up, and you’re going to kill yourself from guilt, Malik Ishtar. Change. NOW!!!”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“I SAID SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!”
[Malik springs up in Tracer’s bed. He’s sweating and panting, a hand grasping his chest in shock. Slowly, a single tear begins to fall down his cheek, turning black as it takes Malik eyeliner with it. The tear falls because of only one thing:
The ‘manifestation;’ of him was right.
And this time... he remembered.]
(OOC: Not my best entry in my history of role-playing. But give me a break, I haven't written a first-person entry like this in a LONG time. I'm actually kinda proud of it. And I’m sorry if the 'manifestation' part confused you. It makes sense to me, but I know it's confusing. Basically, it's the voice in the back of Malik’s mind that makes all those traitorous sarcastic remarks.)
I hold a hand up to my face as I open my eyes, the searing light scorching my eyes. I squint, trying to see where I am without going blind. Why is it so bright here? Even the floor I’m sitting on is white! But there seems to be nothing here other than white light. Where am I?
SMACK
Ow! Fuck shit! What the hell was that?!
“Open your eyes, dumbass! I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for months!”
Whose voice is that? It kind of sound like me… I slowly open my eyes, trying to adjust them to the light, only to see… a naked man standing in front of me?! And… and… he looks like me! What the fuck is this shit?! Did I get drunk again? Damn you Grace and your spiked punch!
“You’re not drunk, and you’re not hallucinating, numb nuts”
I look up at my doppelganger in shock. “You can read my mind?!”
The copy shrugged, “I am your mind.”
I gape for about 10 seconds before speaking. “Bullshit. That’s bullshit. I’m drunk.”
My copy looked at me exasperatingly. “Do you remember drinking anything?”
I shake my head. “No.”
“Exactly.” The copy of me smirked. “You’re in your soul room. That’s why it’s so bright in here. You really do love the light don’t you, Malik?”
I frowned, suspicious of where this was going. “Yeah, I guess.”
“Then why do you insist on living such a dark life?” my copy asked.
I scowled, not exactly wanting to answer that question. Instead iI ask another: "If this is my soul room, why is there nothing here but light?"
My copy replies calmly. "Because you havee an emptiness inside you that needs to be filled."
I scowl again. Who is this guy?
“Who are you?” I ask.
“I’m you.” I frowned and my copy paused. “Okay, that’s not true. I’m kinda like your conscious… the true you… A manifestation of your thoughts, likes and dislikes.”
My gape as I think of something. “You’re another dark side?! Like a yami?!”
My copy’s eyes widen in surprise. “Oh, hell no. I’m not a yami. I hate yamis. That one you made a few years ago tried to lock both of us away. I’m not a yami. Like I said, I’m kinda a version of you.”
I raise an eyebrow, slightly calmed down, but with questions still lingering. “If you’re me, then why are you naked?”
The doppelganger shrugged again. “I’m a manifestation of you, remember? You like being naked, don’t you, Malik?”
“No,” I stated. That was a bit of a lie.
“Bullshit. You love it. You love being naked in front of another man. You whore!” he sneered.
“Hey! If you’re me, then why are you insulting me?” I yell.
“Because it’s true! You know it’s true! You know that little voice in the back of your head that tells you how much of a slut you are after you sleep with another man? That’s me! The real you- the you that knows what’s right!” He jeers.
I cross my arms defiantly. “You’re not making any sense.”
SMACK
“What the fuck?! Stop slapping me, you bastard!” I scream. “What is with you?! You’re not me! You’re nothing like me!”
“Are you sure about that?” He smirked. “I never said I was you. I’m a manifestation of you. You, only smarter. I’m the part of your brain that knows better. That knows what’s right and wrong. The 'you' that the world sees unfortunately doesn’t. I’m here to change that. It’s time for a wake up call. Again.” He sighed.
“Again?” I ask.
He sighed once more. “Yes, ‘again’. You don’t even remember do you? I must not have made a good impression last time. The mind doesn’t remember things that go on in the soul room very well, it seems.
“I’ve met you before? When?” I ask
“Whenever you’re in a state of emotional weakness or doubt. Like, after you have sex, for instance.” he responds.
“I’m not emotionally weak after I have sex, you… you… imitation!” I yell, struggling to find the correct word to describe this... thing.
My copy deadpans. “Seriously? That’s the best insult you can come up with?” He sighs and shakes his head, continuing, “And yes, you are weak. You’re in a state of guilt. You just don’t want to believe it- that you’d be guilty about something you so enjoy. It’s the weakness of all humans- to deny what makes you weak.”
I scowl, I have nothing to say to that.
My copy kneels down in front of me, looking righht into my face. “You know what you’re doing is wrong. I’m here to turn you around. I suffer when you suffer, Malik. And you’re suffering right now, because you’re so guilty about how much of a whore you are.”
Okay. That’s it. Enough of this shit. It's payback time.
SMACK
“Take that, you bastard!” I yell as I bitch-slap the doppelganger across the face. “I am no whore!”
The doppelganger falls to the ground, reeling in shock that I turned on him. Serves him right! How dare he call me those things!
But suddenly, I hear a chuckle come from my copy. He mumbles, “Humans get so mad when they have to face the truth.”
I growl. This guy needs to shut the fuck up, right now. He’s seriously pissing me off.
“Eight. Eight men you’ve had in your short time out of the Pharaoh’s tombs. None lovers, not even one of them. All prostitutes and flings.”
“I can do whatever I want with my life.” I state.
“And hurt yourself in the process?” He asks.
“I don’t care. I want to die anyway.” I reply.
“You only want to die because you can’t find a handsome prince charming to sweep you off your feet and carry you away to his castle. But of course you can’t! You’re too busy with cheap fucks!” He yells in my face.
“Don’t judge me!” I yell back.
SMACK
“I can judge you as much as I want! I practically am you!” he shouted. “You’re stuck in a self-destructive, counter-productive cycle, Malik. And you need to get out of it or your mind and your body will turn against you.’
I frown. “That’s impossible .I can’t stop. I’m addicted. If you knew anything about me, you’d know that.”
“I know everything about you.” He stated roughly. “I know you’re hurting yourself.”
“Shut up…” I mumble under my breath.
He continues. “I know you’ll never find your prince charming if you keep going the way you are.”
“Shut up.”
“I know you’re a whore and that you want to change. You just don’t have the guts or motivation, you weakling!
“Shut up!”
“I know you want to hurt yourself and yet achieve happiness at the same time. Well, guess what?! It doesn’t work that way!”
“SHUT UP!”
“Keep this up, and you’re going to kill yourself from guilt, Malik Ishtar. Change. NOW!!!”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“I SAID SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!”
[Malik springs up in Tracer’s bed. He’s sweating and panting, a hand grasping his chest in shock. Slowly, a single tear begins to fall down his cheek, turning black as it takes Malik eyeliner with it. The tear falls because of only one thing:
The ‘manifestation;’ of him was right.
And this time... he remembered.]
(OOC: Not my best entry in my history of role-playing. But give me a break, I haven't written a first-person entry like this in a LONG time. I'm actually kinda proud of it. And I’m sorry if the 'manifestation' part confused you. It makes sense to me, but I know it's confusing. Basically, it's the voice in the back of Malik’s mind that makes all those traitorous sarcastic remarks.)