Every night we traveled to a new location, sticking to shadows as Tyler
dragged my impish body. Sneaking around like that, we were reduced to mere
rodents. Tyler said the mental hospital was still looking for us, it was
just best to move around, while my leg healed anyway. I guess I broke it
when I jumped out of the third story window of the hospital, although I
don't remember it.
Tyler says a lot of people tend to blank out traumatic events in their lives. Tyler always knows what to say.
I wanted to see my future worshippers again, let them know I wasn't dead like they all believed, but Tyler told me I had to wait; cant let my followers see me in a weak position as now. Tyler always knows what's right.
A month later my leg was healed enough so I could walk without my crutches. Two more weeks and I didn't need the make shift cast anymore. Another two weeks and I was, more or less, back to my old self again. Tyler said it wasn't good enough; I needed more time so I could build the muscles back up. For three solid weeks I was drilled to do 100 pushups, crunches and pull-ups every three hours and ran a mile twice a day. It was hell, at first, but with Tyler being the enforcer, after the first six days, I was able to do them all with ease, taking naps every now and then until the next drill.
On the last day of drilling, Tyler watched me do all 100 pushups and asked, while smoking his cigarette, "How you feeling?"
"Great!" I thought he had quit smoking. In fact, I'm sure of it, right before I did.
"Good. Do 100 more." He commanded and I complied. Quickly, I whipped out another 100, muscles only beginning to be sore towards the last 10. "Good job. Again."
"C'mon Tyler, lemme just…"
"No!" he yelled as he kicked me back down. "Another fucking set!" I obeyed. By the 82nd pushup of the third set, my already sore muscles felt as though Tyler had just shoved that cigarette into my shoulders, but I did them, did them to the last fucking one.
"Go shower now, you smell like shit." I collapsed onto the floor, body thumping with my heart, especially in my head.
Thirty minutes later I came out of the small bathroom; looking around I didn't see Tyler and decidedly took a break, throwing myself onto one of the beds in the room. I laid on my stomach with my face in the surprisingly soft pillow.
Breathing in the disgusting smell of mold and smoke, I coughed. It reminded me of Marla. Marla…
I rolled over, hand searching blindly the table next to the bed for a cigarette which it quickly found. I lit up, still staring at the ceiling, taking that first, blissfully euphoric puff.
Marla…
I closed my eyes again, trying to picture her face. Suddenly, Tyler jumped onto the bed, pinning my arms down, grinning. I instinctively fought back and gasped in surprise.
"Tyler! What the fuck are you doing, you bastard!" He peered down at me, still with that shit-eating grin plastered upon his face. He looked like a clown. I never did like clowns. Just as suddenly as he had jumped on me, I felt his soft moist lips on mine, for only a split second. My eyes wide with shock, I gawked at him, not knowing what to do next. He only smiled.
"Get rest. Tomorrow, my liege, you will finally get to see civilization, see you're peers and followers. You're ready." I sighed with relief that I would soon no longer have to move from shit hole to shit hole, I had to do that when I was younger. I hated it then and I hate it now.
"You mean it, Tyler?" He nodded and then pulled the covers back for me to crawl into. I had already forgotten that kiss. It wasn't important. "That's great news! To actually see people…and fight clubs…and Marla…" At that, although I was slowly drifting off to sleep, he slapped me and my eyes instantly jut open.
"No! No Marla. She has done nothing but ruin you, ruin us. We don't need her, good riddance." I didn't like this idea, it scared me. I wanted something which made me comfortable, and Marla was just that, comfort. She always made me realize what shit the world was made of, she was my reality. "No, she was a fuck. That's all. And I will find you another, one more worthy of you. Now, go to sleep, you have a big day ahead of you."
'But, I miss her…' I kept thinking about her, about fight club, about everything, and I didn't think I could ever get to sleep, but at some point I had, somehow.
***************
Tyler was the last thing I saw before I went to sleep and the first when I awoke. He was standing on the end of the bed, with the covers in his hands from just ripping them away from my warm body, exposing it to the utter cold.
"Put this on. We're going out." He said with a smile as he tossed me an outfit. It was an eccentric outfit, and something Tyler would wear, only with a pizzazz of my style mixed in. A black leather trench floated above the ground, with a silver dress, button up shirt underneath it, barely visible. The pants were the oddest, however, made of some black, plastic type material. The outfit came complete with black sunglasses with silver rims and tint.
I looked in the mirror and was astonished at the transformation that took place seemingly over night. Tyler had been busy and cut my hair: buzzed on the sides and back and only slightly long on the top. He came over and ran his fingers threw my hair, putting some kind of gel through it to make little spikes. My face was shaved, the beard that had grown over the last few months was completely gone, and I had just come to accept it too.
I now looked just like Tyler. This wasn't me, this was Tyler. Tyler was making me like him.
"Don't complain, you like it." He said, turning me towards a chair to get my black army boots on, stompers I call them. I watched him lace them up, how intricate it seemed and yet elementary simple. He then stood up and I noticed his outfit, very similar to my own, only he had a dark red trench, a metallic black shirt, and red plastic pants. What a pair we made. We looked like those typical, common trouble makers, the kind that supposedly 'always' do things like steal, loot, shoot up schools, etc. Ya know, the kind depicted in movies all the time. It was such a cliché I had to laugh at it. Only Tyler would choose such a cliché on purpose.
"Ok, now that you're all ready, we can go."
Tyler says a lot of people tend to blank out traumatic events in their lives. Tyler always knows what to say.
I wanted to see my future worshippers again, let them know I wasn't dead like they all believed, but Tyler told me I had to wait; cant let my followers see me in a weak position as now. Tyler always knows what's right.
A month later my leg was healed enough so I could walk without my crutches. Two more weeks and I didn't need the make shift cast anymore. Another two weeks and I was, more or less, back to my old self again. Tyler said it wasn't good enough; I needed more time so I could build the muscles back up. For three solid weeks I was drilled to do 100 pushups, crunches and pull-ups every three hours and ran a mile twice a day. It was hell, at first, but with Tyler being the enforcer, after the first six days, I was able to do them all with ease, taking naps every now and then until the next drill.
On the last day of drilling, Tyler watched me do all 100 pushups and asked, while smoking his cigarette, "How you feeling?"
"Great!" I thought he had quit smoking. In fact, I'm sure of it, right before I did.
"Good. Do 100 more." He commanded and I complied. Quickly, I whipped out another 100, muscles only beginning to be sore towards the last 10. "Good job. Again."
"C'mon Tyler, lemme just…"
"No!" he yelled as he kicked me back down. "Another fucking set!" I obeyed. By the 82nd pushup of the third set, my already sore muscles felt as though Tyler had just shoved that cigarette into my shoulders, but I did them, did them to the last fucking one.
"Go shower now, you smell like shit." I collapsed onto the floor, body thumping with my heart, especially in my head.
Thirty minutes later I came out of the small bathroom; looking around I didn't see Tyler and decidedly took a break, throwing myself onto one of the beds in the room. I laid on my stomach with my face in the surprisingly soft pillow.
Breathing in the disgusting smell of mold and smoke, I coughed. It reminded me of Marla. Marla…
I rolled over, hand searching blindly the table next to the bed for a cigarette which it quickly found. I lit up, still staring at the ceiling, taking that first, blissfully euphoric puff.
Marla…
I closed my eyes again, trying to picture her face. Suddenly, Tyler jumped onto the bed, pinning my arms down, grinning. I instinctively fought back and gasped in surprise.
"Tyler! What the fuck are you doing, you bastard!" He peered down at me, still with that shit-eating grin plastered upon his face. He looked like a clown. I never did like clowns. Just as suddenly as he had jumped on me, I felt his soft moist lips on mine, for only a split second. My eyes wide with shock, I gawked at him, not knowing what to do next. He only smiled.
"Get rest. Tomorrow, my liege, you will finally get to see civilization, see you're peers and followers. You're ready." I sighed with relief that I would soon no longer have to move from shit hole to shit hole, I had to do that when I was younger. I hated it then and I hate it now.
"You mean it, Tyler?" He nodded and then pulled the covers back for me to crawl into. I had already forgotten that kiss. It wasn't important. "That's great news! To actually see people…and fight clubs…and Marla…" At that, although I was slowly drifting off to sleep, he slapped me and my eyes instantly jut open.
"No! No Marla. She has done nothing but ruin you, ruin us. We don't need her, good riddance." I didn't like this idea, it scared me. I wanted something which made me comfortable, and Marla was just that, comfort. She always made me realize what shit the world was made of, she was my reality. "No, she was a fuck. That's all. And I will find you another, one more worthy of you. Now, go to sleep, you have a big day ahead of you."
'But, I miss her…' I kept thinking about her, about fight club, about everything, and I didn't think I could ever get to sleep, but at some point I had, somehow.
***************
Tyler was the last thing I saw before I went to sleep and the first when I awoke. He was standing on the end of the bed, with the covers in his hands from just ripping them away from my warm body, exposing it to the utter cold.
"Put this on. We're going out." He said with a smile as he tossed me an outfit. It was an eccentric outfit, and something Tyler would wear, only with a pizzazz of my style mixed in. A black leather trench floated above the ground, with a silver dress, button up shirt underneath it, barely visible. The pants were the oddest, however, made of some black, plastic type material. The outfit came complete with black sunglasses with silver rims and tint.
I looked in the mirror and was astonished at the transformation that took place seemingly over night. Tyler had been busy and cut my hair: buzzed on the sides and back and only slightly long on the top. He came over and ran his fingers threw my hair, putting some kind of gel through it to make little spikes. My face was shaved, the beard that had grown over the last few months was completely gone, and I had just come to accept it too.
I now looked just like Tyler. This wasn't me, this was Tyler. Tyler was making me like him.
"Don't complain, you like it." He said, turning me towards a chair to get my black army boots on, stompers I call them. I watched him lace them up, how intricate it seemed and yet elementary simple. He then stood up and I noticed his outfit, very similar to my own, only he had a dark red trench, a metallic black shirt, and red plastic pants. What a pair we made. We looked like those typical, common trouble makers, the kind that supposedly 'always' do things like steal, loot, shoot up schools, etc. Ya know, the kind depicted in movies all the time. It was such a cliché I had to laugh at it. Only Tyler would choose such a cliché on purpose.
"Ok, now that you're all ready, we can go."