Silence

Tyler... so that is my name... Argh... what an horrible pain... I quickly focus back on the memory to escape it.

"Thank you for listening I guess, Tyler..." Munch said. "So what happen is that..."

He clenched his teeth, and his entire body shook. It lasted for close to a minute before he finally mustered the force to calm down enough to speak:

"I... you know, I'm starting to get a bit old... fourty years old, to be more precise" Munch said. "Said like this, it's not that much, but in the lower sectors... well, you live here too, I don't need to give you too much details. My parents are already long dead, and I don't have any siblings. I'm a barman, and for a sector V's rat, I'm pretty rich, so you could think I'd find a wife or something pretty fast, but on the other side I'm not that young, not that handsome... and of course, not that good with women too. Haha, I'm pretty jalous of you, Tyler, it's amazing that you can still look and talk that good even with everything you drink"

I shrugged:

"You look better when you're more fit and you're fit when you exercise" I replied. "Running and parkour are the best workout, and I can garantee you I do that all day when I have to escape the cops... or really anybody I stole money from to get here and help your buisness"

"Yes... and I guess that talking is just your natural talent" Munch laughed weakly.

"If you say so... I'm not into men though, so I won't be able to help with your loneliness, sorry"

"Tssk, you bastard, you think I didn't see you kiss this guy yesterday because there was a 0.01 point bet?"

"Ehm... you know, money is money, bet is bet... Continue your story instead"

"Right. Anyway, I had money, yes, but no one close to share it with. And I didn't want a wife that would only be there for my wealth. I didn't even want a romantic relationship in particular, just someone that could help me to escape my loneliness. And that's when I met him, a young boy, left alone in a street"

I sighed internally. What a cliche story, I already knew how it'd end... but hey, having good relations with my alcohol provider, and making sure he wouldn't drop his buisness - and his life accessorily - was kinda like my job, so I kept listening to his story as quietly as I could.

"I don't know, it was just a sudden need, to help him. So I asked him if he'd like me to adopt him" the barman continued, starting to tremble again. "It's stupid right? Even a starving child wouldn't accept this kind of suspicious offer from a stranger. Yet he did. I don't remember much about the order, but after that I welcomed him to my home and filled the papers for adoption. That's one of the few advantages to live in the lower sectors: nobody ever bother to waste much paper for us, so the process was pretty quick. Then, he became a son for me. He was so adorable..."

He started crying as he kept speaking. It was obvious he was trying to keep it in, but failed miserably.

"It... it was only for two years, and we had no blood ties or whatver... but... but... he was my son... so why! WHY! WHY WHY WHY!"

He hit the bar with his fist again, almost breakng his knuckles and startling half of the people in the pub.

"Why! Why... Why did he have to die like this..." he cried. "Not even something exceptionnal, just a stupid fall in the stairs... Why did my son have to die like this... It's not fair"

I did say some words to comfort him as he snapped and bursted into tears. I don't remember them, though. Because at that time, it just felt so unimportant to me... The truth is, despite how I acted at that time, I felt absolutely no empathy for him or his 'son', or whatever.

It wasn't even that I couldn't feel emotions or anything. But no matter how sad this story was, even if I felt bad for Munch, I genuinly couldn't feel the slightest bit of sadness for his son's death. A fall in the stairs? How stupid was it?

...

No, that wasn't it, it was just a lie I told myself back then. Now, I realize why i didn't feel any sadness at that time: out of spite.

A kid that was saved just like this, for no reason at all? Why was it him? Why... why not me? All this time I was struggling in the street, nobody ever came to help me. Nobody ever cared about me. Where were people like Munch when I needed them? I should've been the one to be saved from all of this! I SHOULD HAVE BEEN THE ONE PEOPLE CARE ABOUT. WHY! Why no one cared about me?

But now I now the answer. It's because I'm just a rotten piece of shit, that can't do anything but deceiving myself and the others. After this day, Munch was only the shadow of himself, acting as always but without any soul in it. And I didn't care, I was just happy that from this moment on, he sometimes offered me a drink when he needed to talk. The worst was that I was actually feeling guilt, but to such a low degree that it was overcomed by my joy getting a free beer.

And then, after years of being a worthless trash, I met Erica and John. That was my opportunity and I took it, trying to forget all the past so I could be a hero, and finally matter in this world.

...

A hero? No, that's not true. Sure, the Paradise Council is rotten to the core, but in the end, they're the one who could drag humanity forward. What did I do, except creating chaos on my way for my own benefit? I didn't want to be a hero, I just wanted to rebel against society to prove others that I matter. To prove myself that I matter.

That's it, I remember everything: Alicia, Harry, everyone else, all those that died for me... I betrayed them all, and I couldn't even stay loyal to myself, denying my past and my own will myself.

I know why I'm in hell now: not only because I'm human, but because I deserve it. I am beyond salvation, I am the worst of the worst.

And I can't even say that I hate myself. Because, from the very beginning, there was no 'myself', only meaningless masks.

.

.

.

Now, It feels as if I have been there for an entire year. Even if I didn't think it would be possible, the pain actually kept getting worse and worse all along. But at least, there is something that can bring me a sparkle of joy in this lonely hell: finally, I almost managed to open my eyes. A bit more... just a bit more... and I will finally be able to see the true appearence of hell.

.

.

After what feels like a month, my eyes are finally fully opened. I take a slight moment to adapt to the light...

... the light?

No, it's impossible, that can't be. That can't fucking be!

And yet, the truth is now in front of me: this light making my damaged eyes burn is noneother than the light of the stars all around me.

That is the true face of my hell: the boundless emptiness of space, without any protection, and without any hope than anybody will ever come to save me. I try to move my arm toward the stars, but it doesn't move. Finally, I realize the source of my suffering: my body, slowly destroyed my the pressure and the coldness of space, with my blood and my guts trying to escape it.

And my Blessing, modifying my view of the time, allows me to live each and every instant of it. Each second where my body keeps getting destroyed feels like months, years to me. The worst is that everything seems to only get closer as my complete destruction approachs. I realize that I'm now trapped in what seems to be a twisted form of the Achilles paradox: the more I approach my death, the faster my mind runs, and the slower eveything around seems to be. This way, no matter how near I get to deliverance, I will never obtain it.

I try to pray to the stars. No voice comes out. I try to extend my left arm toward them. It doesn't move. I try to extend my right arm. I have no right arm. My gaze stays fixed on them, silently praying them to help me, to save me from this eternal suffering.

No answer. The stars remain silent to my voiceless begging. Only one answer reaches me: their infernal light, burning my eyes horribly, forcing an even worse on me.

I realize that stars won't answer my prayers, they won't save me. Stars are nothing, but burning spheres of gas.

I pray Genova. No reply. I pray the Silent One. No reply.

Please, if there is a god, save me. Anything, anyone, save me.

.

.

.

What feels like one more year passes, and still no reply. It could be more, it could be less, I don't care anymore. Fucking Blessing, go away. WHY WON'T YOU FUCKING LET ME DIE?

I can't stand the pain in my body anymore. I can't stand the pain in my eyes anymore.

I can't stand myself anymore.

I try to scream, but my jaw stays still and my mouth doesn't open. It wouldn't be of any use, anyway: there is no sound in space, only silence.

I'm still alive, I still have a mouth, I still feel pain, even more than ever before, but I can't scream.

In this eternal attempt to scream, only one thing can be heard, deafening.

Silence.

(End of Tyler's point of view)