"He’s done for." Michael began before Jack ambushed and grappled with him.
"Tell me how I can bring him back!" Jack cried out to him, his hair unkempt and his voice quavering.
"You cannot."
"I must!" Jack demanded, shouting and banging his fists on the floor.
"Tell me!"
"You simply cannot. This gateway… It’s not the real world. It’s merely a reflection of it. This is the exact reason why you fetched up with me. And now you are a reflection as well. A reflection of me."
Jack sat on the ground, incredulous. Michael noticed his expression and started chuckling, and later on wound up to a whole cackle. Jack listened to the old man’s lunatic whispers and laughs and clucking, and clacking until the axe rose and descended. The walls bespeckled with crimson spots of blood, and Jack lay on the ground, staring into the walls for an eternity.
Would you like to end the story differently? Keep reading.
END No. 2
"Oh, for the love of God, Jack! It’s like you could ever pick an axe up with that bad hip of yours," laughed Michael, gracefully spinning away from the tip of the rusty blade. "Besides, it’s me, more than anyone, who has the right to come at you with an axe in the first place."
"What have I ever done to you?" asked Jack in confusion. "Ever since we met in that hospital and you moved in, we were always..."
It was only then that Jack realised that he didn’t remember. He didn’t remember anything, apart from saying goodbye to Michael that day. It’s all a foggy memory… or was it a dream? Jack didn’t know. It’s all just a blur.