The End

How many times had it been?

How often did he witness cruelty beyond comprehension?

How many times has he asked himself if it was all worth it?

How many people died because of him?

How much suffering has he inflected upon others?

How much did he suffer because of others?

How many of his choices could he justify?

How many times was he wrong, but couldn’t or wouldn’t see it?

All of these questions and more went through his head at the moment.

His moment.

The only moment that can’t be taken from him.

It’s been years since he last asked himself such questions.

Years since he questioned himself and others.

It should be a joyful thing, a good thing.

And it was, it was one of the best things that have happened to him recently.

Although, a little late, far too late.

He could ask himself all he wanted, but he wouldn’t be able to receive an answer.

Even if he would get an answer, it would be useless to him now.

Because this, this was his moment.

His last moment.

His last few breaths.

His death

.

...

…

His freedom.

.

..

…

And yet, he couldn’t enjoy his last moments, like he thought he would.

No, he was tormenting himself in his last moment with useless questions.

Why now?

Why after all this time?

Why when it was all too late?

He asked himself the same questions over and over again, never coming to a conclusion.

He didn’t know why he asked himself.

It wasn’t because of shame, guilt or regret.

No, he lost these emotions a long time ago.

So, why now?

He couldn’t answer, he didn’t know, he didn’t want to know, he couldn’t allow himself to know, he didn’t deserve to know, he…

He…

He knew the answer.

He always knew it.

He just denied it.

Like so many things in his life.

His eyes stared to get heavy.

The last bit of strength leaving his body.

And yet his feeling of shame, guilt and regret started to grow.

His life flashing before his eyes.

All his regrets pilling up.

All his shame coming to haunt him.

All his regrets tormenting him in his last moment.

Watching all his failures again.

Seeing all the people who died because of him.

Hearing they cries of desperation.

Hearing them plead for him to save them.

He never lost his emotions.

He just ignored them.

Suppressed them.

Bottled them up.

Until now.

Now it all made sense to him.

That’s why he thought that death would free him.

That’s why he wished for it.

So that he could finally allow himself to feel again.

So as to lose himself in all his pain, and just give up.

Because, if he had realized this sooner, he wouldn’t have been able to keep going.

He would have just surrendered, and giving up.

A small smile managed to creep across his bloodied face.

He couldn’t help it.

It was just too funny.

He tricked himself into believing that he lost all his emotion.

He tricked himself into suppressing his emotions.

He tricked himself to go on, to never give up.

And yet here he lies, giving up, finally, after all this time.

Just a few weeks earlier it would have been impossible for him to think about giving up.

He was too focused, too obsessed with his goal, too stubborn to give in.

And now here he lies, dying, with a smile on his face.

But not because of the reason he thought he would.

Not because he was finally free, at least not the kind of freedom he expected.

He wasn’t free from his burdens, his responsibilities, or his pain

No, all of this stayed with him, and some old things, emotions, started to resurface.

And that was the reason why he was smiling, because after all this time, after all his suffering, he was and still is, human.

All of his questions were answered with just this one realization.

Tears stared to roll down his face.

He is a human.

He was a human.

He dies as a human.

Nothing else mattered at the moment; nothing was more enlightening than this realization.

When his death meant that he could finally come to peace with himself that he can call himself human again, then so be it.

It is well worth its price.

For a man who lost everything, who sacrificed so much and destroyed even more, for someone like that, life is just a small price to pay.

The more he thought about it the more tears stared to roll down his face and the bigger his smile got.

And the more he regretted his life.

He started to sob.

The sob turned into a scream of frustration.

And the scream turned into crying.

Tears, for all of his loved ones he lost.

Tears, for all the people he couldn’t save.

The scream, for all his wrong decisions.

Screaming because of his stupidity.

Crying because he gave himself up.

And the smile because he was finally done.

Because he did it.

And all of his smiling, crying and screaming, turned into one last question.

One last regret.

Why was no one at his side?

Why was he all alone?

Even at his last moment he was alone.

.

..

…

During the middle of the night, in a collapsed and burning building, lies one dying man.

His left arm ripped out, right eye missing and lower-body on fire, he lay there crying.

Shouting over and over again.

“I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die alone. I just want to go back. I…I…i…iiii….”

But no one heard his pleas.

Until he drew his last breath, he was alone.

All alone.

Ending his long and painful journey.

Dying with nothing but regrets.

Leaving nothing, no body, no loved ones, not even regrets.

He died.

-

--

---

And that’s all there was to it, for death is eternal.

Death is final.

And he is just one mortal.

He was just one mortal.

A broken and sad man.

A lone man.

But also, just a man.

Now a corpse.