The kitchen looked about as barren as the room I woke up in. Ancient fridge, microwave and toaster, I'm pretty sure they were around ten years old, at least, by the supposed 'current time'. The coffee machine was an expensive, state-of-the-art model, though. Once again, no posters or photos anywhere. Hell, not even souvenir magnets on the fridge! A small table with a single chair completed the picture. Yep, whoever was living there, had no habit of spending time in the kitchen, except maybe quick breakfast.

The insides of the fridge met me with another depressing picture. Open carton of milk, way past expiration date of course, few eggs, in whose freshness I believed about as much, as in declaration of everlasting love from women I usually shared the bed with. Mayo, mustard, ketchup. Half-bottle of soy sauce. Two cans of soda. No alcohol, for some reason. Obviously, there were no veggies of any kind either.

And, once again, every single branded product was in their 'old' packaging, completed with production and expiration dates conforming to the supposed time period I woke up into.

I also checked drawers, in a futile hope of finding some pasta, noodles, or rice. Even cup noodles would do. My hopes were, as usual, dead on arrival, since the only thing I found were various seasonings, the same old story with dates, in case I was still not sure about the thoroughness of this prank/dream.

And as a last sucker punch, the coffee machine was out of beans. And I've spotted an empty bag of said beans, a good, expensive blend that I liked, in the trash can. Just my luck, I guess. At the very least, my scavenging attempts discovered an almost empty tin of instant coffee. Cheap garbage for the plebs if you ask my opinion, but not like I had much of a choice.

I put a kettle on the stove and plopped down onto the sole chair. The headache was almost gone by now, which helped to clear my thinking process. Small miracles. First, time to make sure that this isn't a dream, not that I really believed in such possibility by now. Pinching my arm didn't work, neither did counting my fingers. I think this was enough of a confirmation. Chalk it up - not a dream.

So… a prank? Someone deliberately set up an entire apartment in a certain way, found out my old memorabilia of a smartphone, managed to somehow reproduce old brand products, down to production and expiration dates etched on the packaging. When? Why? Who? For what reason? The only people who could and would do something like that just to mess with my head, at least from those who I can remember out off the top of my head, would just off me in my sleep instead.

I sighed and cupped my face with my hands. Yes, no matter how much denial I wanted to channel through myself, there was another outlandish enough idea. So… I finally offed myself. And all of this was some sort of my personal purgatory. Sounds equally stupid and probable to my current self, to be frank. I wanted to laugh, but just couldn't. Yeah. This one certainly sucks.

And the last possibility. Most outlandish of them all. I really was in the past…

I looked at my hands. Once again, no scars, no tattoos either.

Assuming this is the truth, what now? Another lifetime of wrongs, living like a fucking animal, only to satisfy my base instincts? Another burnout, with dull emptiness inside? Yeah, sure, sounds fun for a while. This time I managed an empty chuckle.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

Wait. Fucking hell. My mind raced back to the stupid cringe message I've sent to Helen. If this is the past. If it's not a prank, dream, or my personal purgatory… What if she doesn't answer back? And what if she does? Fuck. What should I say to her? What can I say to her? And, the most important, what do I want to say to her?

As I felt my mind going into a negative spiral of shitty thoughts, a boiling kettle caught my attention. Coffee, yes, anything to distract myself. A full spoon, boiling water. No sugar, no milk. Not that I particularly liked my coffee black, but I just was out of pretty much everything at the moment. Stir it a bit to finish the alchemical brew.

Few moments to let it cool down a little, wary sip of the concoction. Yeah, it tasted like shit. A bit sour, overly bitter taste. But caffeine inside did its job, clearing the last bits of confusion inside my brain.

With that done, I could proceed with my despair. I knew myself too well by now to understand the simple fact. My shitty character, combined with my even shittier nature, would fuck up any 'plans to change' that I can come up with. I've been trying so many times before. Hah, yes, 'this time for sure' and 'she is the one'. And every time, about a month into this, something would inevitably happen to drag me back to the starting point.

"Abandon hope all ye…" the sound of my own younger voice was the last straw.

I took another sip of so-called coffee. Let's try and think about it in a positive light. At this point of time, I shouldn't have managed to fuck my life so completely. Yet. Yes, I am a piece of shit, but not everyone knows about this. Yet. And there aren't many people who want me dead and/or ruined as well. Yet. That should make it a bit easier, I hope. All I need to do is not to mess this life of mine as bad this time around. And perhaps. On some offhand chance. This time around. Try and not go below my bottom line. Again.

Another sip. I didn't regret my actions. Nor my choices. And, most definitely, I did not regret being a… bad guy of so many people's stories. The only thing that did bother me was how boring it all became by the end. So, all I need is to avoid boredom. Oh, so many things to do, so many things to try.

Or maybe I shall do it in the most spectacular way possible instead?

I didn't need the mirror to know what sort of expression I had on my face right now. A crooked smile, more of a feral grin, honestly. In the end, I am, indeed, a fucking animal. At least there were many people who called me that.

I chugged the remnant coffee in a few gulps, scalding my tongue and throat a bit, feeling the liquid hotness spread through my body. My grin grew even larger. Not without a reason.

***

Anger, hatred and fear equal parts in her eyes. A bit of blood in the corner of her lips.

"You are not a human. You are a beast. A fucking animal!" biting words, which I ignore. No, I enjoy them. They feed something dark inside of me. She is not a human either, after all. Just a prey.

I take a step forward, she tries to back away, but it's a futile struggle. I cornered her already. She won't be able to run away. But her attempts amuse me, so I will let her try.

It's not our first meeting. And it won't be the last, either. We both know what will happen next. The sound of my laughter fills the scene. She curses at me again.

In her eyes I see myself. And he grins back at me. Just as I do.

***

Huh. I never bothered to ask her name, did I? Would've she even told me?

Ah, I wanted a smoke. I got the habit at some point later in life. A strange feeling, my body certainly does not want it, but my mind still does. Should I buy some? I need to do groceries anyway, so might as well. Hm, do I even have money? Pretty sure card info should be saved on the phone, but which one is it? What about the PIN?

Hm. If I guessed right, and it's my old apartments, there must be an emergency stash of cash somewhere. And if push comes to shove, I can always just play my third most favorite game - 'Mug a thug'. Stroll through the night alleyways, and rob whoever is dumb enough to mistake me for a prey.

I stood up, rinsed the coffee cup in the sink and went back to the first room where I woke up.

The image in the closet's mirror was still the same. The younger version of yours truly. Sliding the door to the side, I checked what was currently available in the clothes department. I usually left the clothes shopping and choices to my current lady, or just shopping assistants. Fashion was never my strong point, why bother with looks when all you need is utility?

As such, after rummaging a bit through the closet, my choice naturally fell on the pair of sweatpants with flame patterns and a zip-tie black hoodie with red undertones. My inner edgelord squealed in delight. After rummaging some more, I found my hidden cash stash. Enough to live for a month or two in relative comfort, but not enough for some serious spending.

All that was left was to check my phone. Such a simple thing, really. Just take it in your hands, me, push the power button, enter the right PIN and check if you got any new messages. Easy, right?