"Just kill yourself,"
A strained, male voice rang out.
Or did it ring in?
…I had no idea.
Okay, I did have an idea. But was there anyone on Earth who'd ever admit that they were insane?
Personally, I didn't think that.
What a great way to cheer a broken guy up.
"Seriously, though. It's the only other option available. The easier, painless option. Aren't you tired of this pain? You can't leave here, you know. You can't survive.
You are definitely going to die. Why don't you just hasten the process? Why don't you just shorten the pain? You know, there's a weird sense of comfort in knowing you're the one who gets to decide how and when your life ends. Not nature.
And, even if somehow you do manage to escape this place, you know you won't survive, don't you? Who knows what those guys would do to you if they found you?"
Although the tone of the voice sounded blunt — almost too blunt — it was true. Every single word uttered.
And the weight of those truths made my bones ache more than they already did.
There was no escaping this one. Death was already knocking at my door.
My stupidity caused this. The thought of the food and other stuff I could afford with the extra cash dulled my reasoning, making me do something quite unusual for my normal self.
And my normal self in question?
Nothing much to speak of, really.
I was a royal scavenger, if that made any sense. That was what I liked to call myself.
A scavenger who never gave up on his shitty life, no matter how shitty it got, and always chose the.. best path for survival.
But what I called 'survival' might've been different from what others called it.
I ran all my life, away from the things I deemed a potential danger to me. And I always remained on that path. Steady in survival mode.
But, like all humans eventually do… I fucked up. Real, real bad.
But still,
Kill myself?
The thought of it stirred a weird feeling deep within my stomach.
Nah,
I let out a weak, yet strangely cocky scoff.
That ain't me. I'd rather be killed than kill myself.
I groaned, wincing in pain.
So what?
What if the pain is unbearable?
What if I'm still going to die in the end anyway?
Ha! So be it.
Let it be so that this is the first and last time that I actually fight for something.
That I actually disregard the optimal, painless path.
I've run for far too long.
"I've never been one to quit," I said, "You should know that very well."
A big, fat lie.
"Sure you haven't. But.. you've been one to run away. You run away from everything that screams potential danger. You get scared easily… You are a coward." The voice that strangely resembled my own echoed incessantly within the farthest regions of my mind. "Aren't you tired of living this pathetic life?"
A defiant smirk stretched on my lips.
I am tired. But what's the point? It's still the same death I'm headed to at the end anyway.
I might as well enjoy my last moments.. of pain.
I shrugged, "Yes, I've run away countless times. Yes, I'm a coward, I admit it. But even though I'm a coward, I'm still someone who knows what I want. And I'm damn sure that killing myself ain't it."
The voice became silent.
Suddenly, the voice tried to speak again, "But think about the pain–"
"I've endured pain all my life." I said in a low voice, furrowing my brows, "This isn't any different. I can still endure."
Silence. Complete and utter silence.
Ya done yapping?
I scoffed once more, shifting my lower body to assume a better position where I sat.
That's better. Although the silence is deafening, it is… more soothing.
I just have to endure for a while, and then…
It'll all be over.
The owner of the strange voice that made such an incredibly compelling argument was none other than…
Yeah, there was no way I was going to admit that I was going bat shit crazy.
But it was a part of my mind.
The cowardly part.
My eyes were closed. Shut tightly.
Goosebumps sprouted all over my body. A result of the bone-chilling cold that blew over the city, and over my torn and tattered clothes.
My eyes were swollen. Hence, the reason I closed them to rest.
At that moment, darkness plagued my vision. An endless expanse of darkness.
Or… just nothing at all.
I just felt like dramatizing it. But really, I felt blind.
Even trying to open my eyes was an unjust punishment; my eyelids felt heavy, and when I moved them, a wave of unendurable pain flashed through my skull.
No way I'd open them. Not anytime soon, at least.
Forget my eyes.
My face was the problem.
Hah.
The damn thing had been bruised. And it ached so much.
They beat me thoroughly, broke almost every bone in my body.
And truthfully, it was a miracle I escaped the arms of those damned bastards.
While enduring the pain and desperately running away from them, I found an alley where, somehow, they didn't think to look, and I hid there.
Just stayed at a corner with my back resting against the wall, sitting on the pool of my own blood that trailed from my open, numerous wounds, as I fervently hoped they didn't find me because I no longer had the strength to resist.
I'd been there ever since. Like five hours or so.
I had to. I was in their territory, after all. The territory of the Murilan Gang.
Shitty name.
That very fact sparsely explained it all.
Murilan owned this half of the city, while the gang I worked for to survive owned the other half. They were enemies.
And.. I sold 'goods' in said enemy territory.
Hunger really did all sorts of shit to a man.
Slowly, I raised my neck, and I gritted through the pain as my eyes fluttered open, taking in the sight of falling snow.
Oh, it's snowing.
Above the sky, the sun hid behind the cascade of thick, massive clouds.
Already evening.. or maybe night. I'd been here for a while after all.
My trembling lips parted to speak.
Only a dry, throat-squeezing cough escaped.
After the cough settled down, I clenched my fists and whispered, "Man, I really hate winter."
As I spoke, blood trickled down my lips.
Those Murilan bastards fucked up my internal organs as they broke my ribs, making every breath I drew hurt.
The pain felt like someone kept scraping the inside of my lungs with a hot blade.
The clouds and snow blurred in my vision as my eyes grew weaker, strength slowly exiting my body.
Did I even actually live a 'life'?
I raised my arm.
Hmf.
I wonder why my mind easily got used to the pain.
I opened my palm.
Snowflakes fell and melted on it.
I clenched. Water dripped down.
I… didn't.
Didn't even have a family.
…No,
I did.. once.
But that was… a long time ago.
Now that I think about it, it was ever since my parents died that I spent each passing day doing my best to survive.
Well, not really my best. I ran away a lot. And I'll probably still live the same way if I'm ever given another chance.
"Ptui!" I spat out blood as I gripped my ribs, the blood staining my palm. "Fuck… it hurts."
I gritted my teeth.
I wonder why I acted all stubborn, refusing to just end it all myself.
I really can be stupid sometimes.
"Exactly. But it's coming to an end already. I'm strangely proud of you," The voice said once more.
I blinked. And sneered, "Shut up, coward."
The voice offered no reply.
The grip on my ribs slowly loosened.
But it makes me wonder..
My malnourished body gave out as I fell on the ground.
If I'm actually given a second chance, would I still live my entire life running away, as I think I would?
Lying on the ground with my head on the bag that housed the contents that had caused my problem in the first place, my breath thinned.
A small school bag.
As I felt it under my head, I let out a forced chuckle.
Definitely wouldn't be a gang's lackey and sell drugs in an opposing gang's territory if I'm given a second chance.
A soft groan escaped my mouth as I winced slightly.
"I hope the entire world gets destroyed. It caused me a lot of pain." I whispered. A tender, last-second joke.
Then, I closed my eyes, letting my soul sleep and drift into eternity.
…Or so I thought.
[Ding–!]