Based off of the song "Volatile Times" by IAMX.

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Look at me, what have I become?

What's going on? Everything is suddenly different. My brain – is it even mine even more – isn't processing the situation. I try to move my fingers – but are they even mine anymore?

Am I Jake English? I was.

That's what someone's calling me right now.

Jake.

Jake.

Jake.

I can't reply. My tongue feels like a well-placed rodent in my mouth.

I am lost I was once a gentleman.

I can still see. That's something, at least. I move my eyes down to my hands and see the guns that I'm apparently gripping.

I see a small, almost unnoticeable cloud rising out of the barrel of the gun in my right hand.

I see speckles of blood, which could have microscopic or as large as a pumpkin, make their way up my arm. I notice a few red blurry spots in my vision, which are undoubtedly specks of blood on my glasses.

What have I done?

But the thief came out in old London town.

How did I get to this moment?

A girl. Kind of like the one I saw in my dream I guess.

Everything's hazy. I just want to sleep, but the blood I see is keeping me wide awake.

So I must leave you now, but I will remember the ups and the downs.

My legs move forward. No. Stop moving, I'm not telling you to move, dammit!

My legs won't listen. Are they even my legs anymore? Am I even in my own body anymore? Those hands look like mine. The shirt is definitely mine, along with the green coat with its flashing edging.

Another few steps. I try to speak again. The rodent worms its way down into my throat. I'm moving towards something, and I need to speak.

I need to make sure Dirk is behind me. I need to ask Dirk what's wrong with me.

I try to call for help.

The rodent chokes me and all I can taste is coins in my mouth.

Everything is suddenly black, but I can't protest to finally sleeping.

{}

Look at me in the apocalypse.

It's all my fault. I just wanted him to be able to protect himself. I couldn't always be there to save him.

Now look what's happened. He's gone.

Jake. My Jake.

Gone.

My European guilt, expecting instant fix.

It's crushing me. This guilt I have, it's like a tidal wave that no one can stop.

I have tried everything. I even stole one of Roxy's countless bottles.

Nothing fixes this. I'm broken, along with my entire world, and it's all my fault.

All.

My.

Damn.

Fault.

I imagine all the brutal services of ancient infidels.

I wonder what he's doing. If he's come back to his senses. If he's still Jake.

Or if he's out doing god knows what (if there even is a god). I hate to think of what he's become.

A monster. A twisted version of the person I once knew. Once loved.

I know the history. I know who and what Lord English was and is. I never thought that Jake was and is him.

I never thought I would be in this situation, an enemy of the person I love.

Of all the wounded, and the crying witches.

I am haunted by people I've never even met. I unleashed this…horror upon them, all because I wanted him to be able to protect himself.

Because I was so selfish.

I cared more about Jake English than anything or anybody else.

I am often told that it isn't my fault.

Not my fault my ass.

I drove through countries like a marching funeral, in the search of fools and utopias.

I've been looking. And looking. And looking.

Everywhere I go, I look for some hint that he's been there.

I can usually find signs of Lord English. The blood, bones, and guts of innocent people have become common things to see.

Nothing to suggest that Jake was ever there. Jake would never do this.

…or would he?

I can't let myself think that way.

Along the lonely roads with all the empty human souls.

I am a shell. A mere ghost of the person I once was. The guilt has eaten me away.

I have lost the ability to feel. Every step I take is towards nothing. I see no purpose any more.

Jake is gone. I have accepted this.

Filling their heavy hearts with slum religion and Coca-Cola.

Every bock is read, I'm paralyzed

Every fist is clenched, but I'm so tired.

I just want to stop. I can't sleep. I see Jake, Lord English, everyone whose body I've found.

My mind is my hell.

There are nights when all I do is stare at my sword. I contemplate the many ways that it could end me. For some reason, I haven't used it against myself.

I don't understand. What am I waiting for?

Jake. Lord English. That's who I'm waiting for. Because I know that I'll find him eventually.

Goodbye, my friends.

I found him. He found me.

His body has become warped, half human, half monster. The garish flashing coat hangs over his shoulders. He's lost his leg.

His hands are covered in blood. My blood.

But that's fine with me.

Goodbye to the money.

If we had won…all four of us, together…we could have had whatever we wanted. We could have been together.

Adieu to the fuckers that think that it's funny.

He laughs and says something about how weak I've become.

I've fallen to my knees. My hands are as red as his. This is what I wanted, so why am I trying to save myself?

I splutter and taste old coins on my tongue. I don't have long. I have something I need to say, but the blood is blocking my throat and I can't fucking speak.

I just want to turn the lights on in these volatile times.

My vision is blurring. I can't die. Not now. This is my chance. My one and only chance.

I take a shuddering breath and cough wetly. Blood splatters on to the bottom of his coat.

He kneels in front of me and asks if I'm okay. Asks if a band-aid would help.

I feel myself slipping, the dark shadows swirling and dancing at the edges of my vision.

With my last breath, I finally say what I've been holding in all these years.

"Jake."

"I love you."

And then everything is black, and nothing hurts.

{}

I just want to turn the lights on in these volatile times.

Suddenly, everything is bright, and everything hurts.

There's a dead weight on my foot and something poking my ankle.

I look down to see what it is and…oh.

No. NoNoNoNoNoNoNoNo.

This can't be happening.

I touch his shoulder slowly and see the blood all over my hands and the sleeves of my coat. I shake him.

"Dirk? Hey, mate? You're okay, right? Dirk?"

I hear my voice become more and more frantic.

I'm sifting through these memories that I don't remember happening and oh god what have I done?

What kind of monster am I?

I hold my head in my hands and scream and sob for everything and everyone.

For him.

For Dirk.

A/N: Oops. I sadstucked. This is crap, I know. Just deal with it.