Elements of a Selfish Desire

Brian was his best friend. His confidant. Closer than a brother. He had told this man things he knew would never be repeated, not even on his deathbed. All of those were the reasons he wanted to tell him. He couldn't begin to recall all of the times he had come so close to just laying everything on the line, but he just couldn't. Too much was at stake.

"What's wrong, man?" the lead asked, perplexion now lightly creasing his features.

"I'm good. Just stressed."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. Too many things on my plate. I'll survive." quickly changing gears, he posed a question of his own. "What's the word from the doctor?"

"I have to go back in a few weeks." he shrugged. Noting the look on his friend's face, he assured him, "I'll fly home after the show, go to my appointment, take the night and next morning to sleep, and fly back in time for sound check in the next city."

"Alright. Well, hey. If you're going to show me that new piece, let's do it. I've got a meeting at 5:00."

+

His thumb and first finger pinched at the bridge of his nose as he listened to the man across from him explain the necessity of delving further into his giftings for what was probably the dozenth time since they had begun their meetings. While he understood the argument that he shouldn't let such talents go to waste, his present concern was still simply the stress of living day to day with the bondage of his secrets.

Everyone had an idea the supernatural was so amazing. Despite the fact that blood drinking parties, satanic orgies, complete immortality (for the most part), and eternal erections (thanks to Mrs. A.R's books for that)were highly favorable fantasies to the mystical-loving public, it was all so far fetched to creatures and hybrids like him. Laughable, even. None of that was true. It was all complete myths, and truthfully, what sounded so glamorous about that? Beat the heck out of him. He had spent the last few years in therapy to balance his mind and emotions with the hybrid element, and he certainly hadn't gotten to the point where he found any of this amusing. Acceptance was one thing, embracing what had been done to him was a different story.

A quiet wisp, then a rapid tapping sound drew him out of his thoughts in time to notice a pen come to a stop in the middle of the dark wood floor. He would have raised an eyebrow at the attention-grabbing tactic, but he couldn't honestly say he hadn't zoned out.

"Pick it up."

Though he wanted to give a sarcastic response, he knew it would do him no good. Strong hands came to the arm of the chair to push himself up, but a negative word stopped him.

"Pick it up with your mind."

With an inward sigh, he closed his eyes and the object in question began rising off the floor. He flinched and tugged his head back slightly when the pen was stopped harshly and thrown back to the ground without his mentor moving a muscle. He didn't have to see to know that, he felt it just as if someone had stepped unexpectedly into his face.

"You cannot always stop what you're doing to take a moment, especially when you want to be discreet. Do it again."

Lifting dark lashes up from his cheeks, he locked eyes with his instructor. The navy blue and silver cylinder rose off the ground and flawlessly appeared on the table to the other man's left without delay.

"Good. Now that I've got your attention, let's move on. Tell me about what happened with your other side the other night."

"There wasn't much to it. He just-" he stopped a moment and flashed a confused look briefly. "I feel weird calling it a he. It's still me, right? I mean, I know it is. What is it though, exactly?"

"That one is a hard one to describe. Sometimes it can be your subconscious, other times it is another version of you from a different plan and conjuring, and then there are times it is something completely unrelated to you."

"No, he's me. It's not anything else. When you said another version of me, does it have to mean two mes combined into one, or could it be something like.... could it... I don't know. I don't know how to even ask what I'm wondering."

"I have not met your other side, so I can't say. Does he come out on his own, or do you bring him out?"

With a bite to the inside of one of his lip rings, he pondered the best way to explain. His eyes wandered around the room blankly as he thought. "I can bring him out. He does come out on his own, and I've figured out it happens most often when I am struggling. Like when I'm going back and forth on a decision. He will also come out if I deny myself something he wants for himself. Sex. Drugs. Alcohol. There are other things, but those are typically points of contengency."

"That make sense."

"I rarely do drugs anymore, of any kind. That makes him angry. But the biggest thing is if I turn down alcohol, or don't continue drinking when I only wanted one or two."

"He wants you to black out, or be otherwise unhinged so he can do as he pleases." getting a nod of agreement, the older man asked, "Does that scare you?"

"I'd be lying if I said it didn't." he shifted uncomfortably in his seat now. "When I am alert, sometimes it is stressful, but it doesn't scare me. Oh, and going back to your question from before. I do still use spells regularly, but it is mainly just one kind. At night I craft a barrier so he doesn't come out when I sleep."

"That is probably best. At least until we figure out his nature."

"Not that I'm ready for this, but we have to do it sometime. Do you want me to bring him out now?"

"We only have ten minutes left. It will probably take five times that to just get him warmed up enough to talk straight with me."

The guitarist's eyebrows raised and a smirk played at the corners of his lips.

Eyes filled with years of wisdom glanced over to find the clock on his mantle now read two hours prior to the time their appointment was supposed to begin. A nod towards his shoulder led him to bring his elbows up to rest on the leather arms of the chair,and a quiet rumble of a laugh vibrated in his chest. "Well played. Please, introduce me."

After a moment of internal struggle, he separated himself and forced his other side out against his (its) will. The disgruntled soul crossed his arms with a growl. The green eyed man immediately cast a spell to both keep the projection out in the open, and from storming off. He had a lot of the original Zack's personality traits, and did not like being pushed into things. He was very strong willed.

"Zack, meet our therapist," he said with a flick of his eyes across the room. "Wow, that sounded strange."

"Do you have a name you'd like to be called?"

God of Rock! he growled into both men's minds, and it drew a noise of amusement from Zack.

"Conceited son of a bitch, aren't you?" twice pieced lips snorted.

"I don't think it's wise to antagonize. And with your permission, I'm going to give him a voice. Just for the moment." despite the request, he did not wait for an answer and lifted a hand. "Now, then."

"Can you see him?" he wondered allowed.

"No, but it's not because he is an internal entity."

"What does that mean? He's not me?"

"Yes, he's you, as far as I can tell. And the reason I can't see him is because you're blocking."

"I am? How?"

"Are you ashamed of me, Zack?" his other side snickered from his seat to the guitarist's left.

"You're afraid people will see who or what you truly are. But rest assured, only certain hybrids can see you split. That isn't for now, though. Right now we need to get back on track. Let's start with baby steps, here."

"Just because I'm out doesn't mean I'll talk," the other half hissed.

"You'll talk or you're not going to have sex for six months." turning to glare at the projection of himself, he added, "I will force you out every time."

"You won't."

"I will. I'll call him to put a restraining spell over you to hold you in between realms so you can't see or hear it, either."

"I always was a ruthless bastard," he other half growled. "Fine. Why am I talking to a washed out rockstar guised as a shrink?"

An invisible force immediately closed around Zack's secondary existence, and his head straightened with the strength of the hold.

"You will respect me!" the demand barked deeply out of the usually calm man's mouth, and the real guitarist felt a level of pure, solid darkness pour over him like he never had before.

"Careful baby, I like violence."

Zack was almost repulsed at his other half's answer, but he couldn't say it wasn't true. It was like this other side of him was everything he had tried to put behind him, or kept from seeing the light of day. Prior to all this, he would have said it was his evil side. Since then, he was very careful about the word and it's usage. People just didn't know. They were so ignorant.

Letting his anger go, the unseen hand left the other presence's throat and the shorter man sat up straighter in his chair as if he were physically rising above the situation.

"Perhaps we got off on the wrong foot," he began, slowly standing to his feet. Stalking towards him now like a panther on the hunt, he continued, "I'm someone who can crush your bones into the finest of powders and let the wind carry you to places you mortal hybrids know nothing of. If you dare speak to me in a sarcastic manner like that again, I will send you into a dimension where the word torture seems like a heavenesque paradise, you sniveling, worthless, gutless, star crossed, power tripping, low ranking, wannabe ruler of the most pathetic race in all of the abyss!" his mouth snapped open violently now and let his last sentence out just this side of a deafening, other-worldly roar, "Do you understand me?!"

The human side of the genuine Avengedman wanted to be scared out of his mind. The hybrid side, however, understood that every one like him had that kind of evil inside of them. It was exactly that reason he was in therapy. He never wanted that side to come out. He wanted to be on the right side of the world, the right side of himself. His eyes fell closed and he willed himself to comply. The words that came out of his other side's mouth next surprised him.

"Yes. I apologize. What can I answer for you?"