My eyes are open
Jack stood holding Marla's hand. She still stood awe struck, even after all the buildings had fallen and the noise began to cease. The only thing interrupting the night's silence was the wailing of sirens. A smile crept sat his mildly distorted head.
"We should go." his words were soft, witch surprised even him. He released her hand and walked over to where Tyler's body should be. "Marla, lets.." she was gone. She wasn't there. "Marla?" he looked for her in the dark room. But she wasn't there. His search brought him to the window. "Holy shit."
His mind flashed. He had seen the trucks, the bombs, the explosions, even Marla. But now, nothing made sense. He peered into the night at sky scraping buildings, all standing, where ruble should be. The distant sound of sirens faded. The cold fluid running down his neck was gone, and so was the bullet hole.
"Marla?" but he knew there would be no answer. She wasn't there. She wasn't real. And at that moment everything became clear. He was sick. He had blown up his apartment. He pretended he was going crazy, there was never a Tyler, never a fight club or project mayhem. There wasn't even a Marla Singer. And if she did exist, he had only met her once, or passed her by on the street. His mind picked her out of all the rest and 'ran with it.' he sat on the floor of the building he was in. And realized one thing was real. A pistol lay on the ground, not ten feet away. He saw himself placing it there, along with the chair. He saw himself removing his own pants, running with fake papers in his hand.
Now it made sense. All of it, everything, didn't happen. He picked up the pistol, and placed under his jaw, and he pulled the trigger. Everything he had ever done, or had imagined doing, was just his body pushing him to this moment. As brain matter splattered the wall, his last thought, MY EYES ARE OPEN.