'Cold...' Damien reflected as he felt immersed in water. His naked body was exposed to the freezing elements all around him.
He attempted to open his eyes but felt as if they were not present. More accurately, they were never present. He felt lost; what was going on? Such thoughts rose to his mind.
That is until he felt a sharp pain in his chest. He ran his hands over it, clutching the area around his heart tightly. He opened his mouth and gasped for air, then felt himself suffocate.
Damien clutched his throat, and fluids began to flow down it without his consent. It had the same viscosity as water, but the taste was repugnant, almost offensive.
His body trembled as he sank deeper into the liquid darkness in which he found himself. Fear gripped his heart tighter.
'What have I done to deserve this?' He considered, losing strength in his body. The liquid continued to enter his mouth, travel down his throat, and throughout his body.
The liquid that had flooded his system had entered his veins and forced his blood out through his pores. Damien's body had already numbed itself; however, he was unable to activate his body's fight or flight response.
The capillaries inside his muscles began to swell before exploding, ripping away any flesh from his bones. "Argh...!" The explosion and his screams were muffled by the liquid substance surrounding him.
While he couldn't see it, he was leaving a trail of his own blood as he descended even deeper. The constant violent explosions of the fluid-carrying passages caused large tissues of his skin and muscles to peel away from his body.
The pain was excruciating, so much so that no matter how much his body could numb it, he would be able to feel it. And if he could, he would not doubt his very soul wouldn't be affected as well.
'It itches...!' He yelled in his mind before raising his left hand to his right arm, albeit with some difficulty due to the liquid's resistance.
As he touched his arm, he felt the tendons of his bare muscles and how painful it was to touch them directly, particularly in the areas that had become open wounds.
He was extremely irritated by the area around them. He gritted his teeth before sinking his fingers into his muscles and tearing them away from his body in an attempt to relieve the itch.
He scratched his skin and muscles, tearing and removing his body's channels. Although this appeared to be an act of suicide, it felt more like a relief to him.
His actions caused pain, but it was only temporary. The itchiness was the main issue for him because it felt like...
'Why... Why... WHY!'
It was originating from his bones. He had torn away every fleshy part of his body, but the itchiness persisted. The organs that kept him alive were now left behind and began to float to the surface, leaving behind the one who had abandoned them.
'Why... Why am I still alive...?'
He reflected with grief. He couldn't feel or move his body any longer. After removing his fleshy layers, the pain went away. 'And yet, I still feel it...'
The itch in his being persisted, like a tenacious leech gnawing at him nonstop.
'What's the purpose of this... Why am I here...? AND WHAT DID I DO TO DESERVE THIS!?'
Why did he have to be the one who suffered such a fate when he was anything but good? He never did anything to endanger others.
He cared for his parents, siblings, close relatives, and even his friends. He worked hard to earn enough money to provide them with the lifestyle they desired, all in order for them to be happy.
All so he, too, could be happy with his life.
So why...
'Why am I being treated like this...? I excelled in my studies, worked so hard that my hands developed calluses, never cheated, and treated everyone equally... So why...?'
If he could, he would cry...
So much so that he believed that if he still had a fleshy body, he would shrivel up from crying so much.
"Damien? He's a good guy..."
'Huh...?' Amidst his anguish, he heard a voice in his head. It sounded familiar: it was his best friend, Jason.
They met in high school and have been friends ever since, even through university, where they founded a political party that won several elections.
Their relationship was surely as close as two peas in a pod.
After hearing his voice, an incredibly vivid and detailed image of his friend appeared in his mind, and he appeared to be conducting some sort of post-mortem interview.
He was dressed appropriately in black formal attire and sat at a white-clothed table. Cameras were all pointing at him and flashing. The interviewer's microphone was pointed directly at him.
"Could you repeat that once more? Our microphone went out." The interviewer enquired with an embarrassed smile on her face.
"Hahaha, sure!" Jason spoke before sitting up straight and leaning his arms over the table.
He appears to be accompanied by his wife, who clings to his arm. She wore a beautiful dress that complemented her hair.
'JASON! CAN YOU HEAR—' He attempted to call out his name with joy in his voice, hoping that he would come and save him. That is until he said something he never expected him to say.
"Damien is a nice guy, but he was always in the spotlight and was very humble about it. No leader should try to hog the spotlight and respond so casually about it.
"That is why I believe I should be elected as the next Prime Minister. Although I've always been on the sidelines assisting him, I'm confident I have the ability to lead us as well, if not better, than he could!"
Jason spoke with a subtle smug expression on his face, mocking his now-deceased "Best Friend" and encouraging everyone to vote for him.
Damien looked at him in disbelief. Why would he make such a statement about him? Thoughts like these appear in his mind, along with a sliver of doubt.
'I refuse! He would not say that about me! We are friends! I saved him when he was struggling financially! He must be joking!' Damien watched and watched. The cameras clicked, and the lights illuminated Jason's face repeatedly.
He still wanted to think it was a joke. A harsh little joke that they could possibly laugh about... But that belief was dashed as he watched his wife speak and did not refute her.
Jason's wife, Melissa, was sitting beside him and nodding her head along his words.
"My husband is correct! Why do we need someone who gets all the attention while our workers have to slave away and watch as someone they elected gets all the fame and money?"
The image darkened before cutting to the next scene of them in the car.
"Was it a good idea to send them after him, you think, dear?" Jason's wife, who sat in the passenger seat, turned her head to the side and asked Jason.
"Hm? Oh, you mean Miss Sharon? Of course! How else are we going to be in power?"
'SO IT WAS YOU; I KNEW IT COULDN'T BE BECAUSE OF A BROWNIE!' Damien yelled at the image in his mind. His metaphorical heart felt like it had snapped in half.
The image darkened before disappearing. It then displayed another image of his other close friends speaking negatively about him.
"That guy... Always seems so stuck up due to how intelligent he is. Smart people like him are usually looking down on us "Stupider" folks."
Some felt disdain towards his intelligence and how hard he worked to get to where he was.
"He isn't a great guy once you get to know him."
Some lied about how he truly is in private.
"He was just some rich guy that used his parent's money to get to where he is."
Some lied about his rise. They knew he had nothing and had to scrounge around to survive, but...
'These... Filthy liars...!' As he continued to hear their words, a deep sadness overtook him. He had made numerous friends numbering in the hundreds. He had already gone through about two dozen of them.
'Not all of them are going to talk negatively about me, right...?' Despite having witnessed those who had described him negatively, he maintained the belief that someone out there thought of him positively.
However, he preferred to hear it from someone close. Anyone outside of that was influenced to see him in a more positive light, so it doesn't matter who was involved.
However...
None of them said anything positive about him other than the standard response of—
"He's a good guy."
"He's a great guy."
"He is very nice."
These answers provided him with absolutely no satisfaction. Instead, it caused him even more grief. It was finally delivered to his wife.
"My husband is the greatest! He works hard and made enough to where we and our kids can live off of our entire life!"
Damien stared expectantly at the image of his wife and two children, hoping she would say more. Unfortunately, the scene then darkened.
'Huh...? That's it? THAT'S ALL SHE HAD TO SAY!?' He then paused before coming to a realisation.
'She only married me for my money...' Although he was glad that they would be able to survive without any sort of financial issues, he couldn't help but fall further into despair.
He then watched the screen brighten up to reveal the faces of his family. That was the last straw...
'THAT'S ENOUGH, RID ME OF THIS TORTURE. I'LL DO ANYTHING, PLEASE!'
["Anything?"]
The voice of someone then appeared in his mind. It was feminine but also... Not?
'YES, ANYTHING! NAME IT AND ILL DO IT!' His mind was already far gone, so the sudden voice in his head didn't seem out of place in his chaotic mind.
["... Answer this question then..."]
'Yes!?'
["What do you think the meaning of life is?"]
The androgynous voice within his mind questioned him. He was taken aback to be suddenly asked such an existential question, especially because his entire existence back home felt like a lie.
As if recognising his unwillingness to answer such a question, the voice continued:
["Life... Is it just the beginning of the end? Is it the end of a meaningless beginning, similar to a dream of someone who couldn't achieve in life? Eventually, everything would come to an end. That is just life."]
The voice paused again, but this time for considerably longer.
["And yet, despite your limited lifespan, you humans make such good use of it. Why does this happen? Is it the companionship that drives you forward? That couldn't be because you're still fighting each other. So, what would it be?"]
'...I am not sure...' Damien responded after a slight pause. He was unsure how to respond to the voice that had a tinge of static behind every word spoken.
["Is that so...?"]
The owner of the voice paused for a moment before continuing, this time with an amused tone in its voice.
["Then I want you to find it out."]
'Huh...?' Damien couldn't help but be astonished by this request. Such a simple one, but he knew it might not be that straightforward.
Why do they want him to find out? He was simply a deceased politician with nothing but bones remaining. He was just a person no one ever truly liked.
He was just a skeleton...
A skeleton that is still conscious...
'Why me...?' He enquired, hesitant to address the mysterious voice.
["Hm? Why not? What do you still have to lose? Everyone back home despises you; why not start over and see if you can find a satisfying ending in this one?"]
'Are you perhaps suggesting I can choose to be reincarnated...?'
["To carry out such an activity, I would need to contact a few... family members..."] The voice strained a bit at the term family members before continuing.
["But I'll do something different. Something that would only provide long-term benefits..."]
'...'
'Benefits...' This word describes the cause of every person's life purpose. Why would people go out of their way to do something they don't want to do if there is nothing in it for them?
While the theory may be a few cases where that theory can be voided, it does not apply to all. Everyone wants to win, and no one likes losing. And those that do still get something in exchange, no matter how much they deny it.
"What do I have left to lose...?"
Nothing... He had nothing to lose but his already broken mind. His surroundings began to brighten as if sensing his acceptance.
He couldn't stop thinking about everything everyone had said about him. The growing cracks in his soul, as well as his thoughts, abruptly came to an end. He let out a mental sigh.
'... The good guys are always the ones being torn apart. For what purpose? Regardless of how hard you strive to impress others, at least one of them is eager to stab you in the back for their own selfish benefits.'
Damien stopped before continuing, but this time, the voice in his head was more firm and confident.
'...From this moment forward... No more playing the fool. No more, Mr. Nice Guy. No one will ever disrespect or betray my trust again, whether in the past, present, or future. Not one soul...
'And if any of them do, I'll devour and crush them with my bare hands... That's a promise...'
He vowed before his body became engulfed in his increasingly brightening surroundings. He then disappeared, the only traces being the flesh he'd discarded on his way down.