(Part 5, previous)
I end up in the cafeteria, staring at nothing. Mastication is the first step of eating. After getting food. After bringing it to your mouth. After the food has leapt into your hands, you can bring it up to your teeth full of cracks and holes, and you can fill them with pulverized chicken and rice and assorted steamed vegetables. And you swallow. And you’ll do this until you die, whether that’s in three, five weeks, or when you’re seventy-eight. Four days or so, if you don’t drink water. I wonder if Tyler has water, locked in the cage of my mind. I wonder if hallucinations need food, or if there’s some other sort of nourishment he needs. That I haven’t been managing to give him. I know he’d like to chew.
Maybe Tyler was onto something, walking around feeling like a bigger dick than God himself.
That night, I sleep like the dead, and I dream of it, too. The movie set of Paper Street yawns above us. I’ve got Tyler in my hands, his hair tight between my fingers as I fuck his throat. I’m curled over him. I’m giving something up. I’m more powerful than I’ve ever been. Tyler Durden has tears in his eyes and my cock in his mouth, and he’s not biting down. Not yet. There’s a heat to the world, and maybe it’s not ever. I feel drunk. He’s quiet.
We’re at fight club, a crowd of howling monkeys around us, and I won. Tyler’s on the ground, looking at me with pride over his shoulder. I’m pulling him apart and sinking inside. I’m fucking my best friend into the concrete. He’s not making a sound.
We’re in my cubicle. I have a large knife, and I’m gutting Tyler like a fish. And I’m burying my dick in him, and he smiles at me. His intestines writhe as I pull on them, hauling his body to me with each thrust. They want back in. I want back in. He’s warm to the core and cooling.
On top of the Parker-Morris building, I’m fucking a hole through Tyler’s shaved head. A cock is your gun, your gun is a cock, an explosion in one direction and I’ve blown mine though his skull. Pulling the trigger, over and over and over. His brain droops out of the hole. Twitching as cum and blood oozes out. Little bits of bone stick to his fried neutered testicle scalp. Rocky mountain oysters. I can see the head of my cock poking out when I fuck in. Out. In. His eyes are empty on me as I move my hands from his jaw to his temples and dig my fingers in. His brain is like plush velvet. It’s better than his throat. Better than his ass. Better than his guts.
Tyler could not cut a hole in himself better than the one I made for him.
I wake up with a rash on my dick from the pillow jammed under my crotch. They don’t bother with high thread counts, here. Might as well be steel wool.
I eat.
I take my pills.
I’m led to the visitation room.
Marla calls me, her voice floats to me through the aether to come out tinny on the telephone.
“Have you heard from Tyler recently?”
Out of the grave enough for speech and she already wants to butt back in.
I want to tell her, I don’t have any words for her. No messages. I’m sorry. My jaw could have rotted off, for all the use it is, and I stay silent.
“I found this new support group. You’d like it. Tyler could be your boyfriend.”
I’m the only one who’s left. Only Marla and I would know the truth if I smeared it like that.
I want to tell her that I hope she’s having a good time, in the real afterlife. That she’s not stuck some place like I was. I don’t want to ask about it. I don’t think we’ll be going to the same place. Marla might not be a good person, but I’m worse.
Regret and remorse don’t mean shit when you can barely even feel them. It’s cruel, how I’m keeping her ghost around. I was haunting her until death and I can’t even stop after.
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Confession time im not really into Anidala. Yes, I like the angst! The love that made vader the cruel and broken man that he became! That's cool and all.
But idk I didn't really like the characterization of Padme in the prequels. She could hold her own a bit, but the writing was so. ??? She didn't give that much of a shit about Anakin slaughtering an entire race, including their women and children who didn't do anything wrong and was like. "Anakin wtf :( How are you evil? Why would you kill those younglings?? This isn't like you!" Girl, he did that a few years ago to the sand people! You just didn't view them as "human" enough to see it as a red flag! At that point, you deserve to die from something as stupid as being very sad! Bitch it wasnt even just the flag that was red, the whole house was, and that red was the blood of the innocents that Anakin had previously spilled pre-vader 😭 You knew about most of this!
And yes. You can die from a broken heart, but it isn't... like that. She could have died from intense stress instead and had a heart attack or something, but they gave her the weakest reason to die. A broken heart. Tbh, it would have been cooler if it actually was the injuries from Anakin that killed her. It would at least be less... victorian era woman cliché where women can't handle intense emotions without fainting or dying. Obi wan didn't die from sadness. Ahsoka didn't either. They all loved him far more than they should have, and platonic love absolutely does measure up with romantic love. They painted padme as strong and then threw it all away to give Vader a reason to be Vader.
Disclaimer, I think Padme's an okay character, just a bit bland and inconsistently written. I'm also biased since I'm not huge on the prequels, but I dont mind them either. It's more of an "eh" compared to my love of the OT and spiteful love of the ST. They tried to make Anidala a romeo and juliet tragedy, but it reads more like Musk and Grime's whole "This isn't your heart." stuff.
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