The memories of an unknown time

He breathed heavily. He had a fever that he caught two days ago. The fever was so strong that he could barely move out of bed. Multiple spirits were all there whispering to the ears and mind of Jack, and one of them was whispering something else. He could not understand the words at this point; his mind was cloudy, and all the words were going over each other, even if the sentences they made were real sentences. Because of the many spirits talking all at once, he could not make any of them out.

He closed his eyes; he just wanted to rest for now and not listen to any of their words, their oh-so-hateful words that he would always hear the moment they appeared. It did not take long, and Jack drifted into a deep sleep, one where there was no sorrow or anything, as in this sleep, he saw nothing; the pure darkness was around him. He was asleep; he was aware he was asleep, but he had no control over his dreams. There he was in complete darkness, the only place where he had peace in his life. No trouble, no words to hurt him, and no one to blame him for anything.

He opened his eyes, and he did not wake up. It was different; he felt drunk, and he saw that in his right hand he was holding a beer of "Oettinger". >Huh... Oettinger? > Jack thought to himself that was something he had not seen for a long time. He sat in a bar, and right in front of him was someone. The moment he saw his face, his eyes widened. It was the face of a comrade, a friend, someone who was close to him in the army.

>>What's wrong Jack, you seem like you have seen a ghost. His friend remarked that he held the same alcohol bottle, seeming, however, less drunk. Jack had his hands on the table, pushing himself up to sit straight, and he looked at Flame, his friend.

What did he want to say? He did not know what he should even say. He had the feeling this was only a dream; however, this feeling of drunkenness, the loud noises from his leg that had fallen asleep, his not-missing left arm, and his constant headache were all too real for it all to be just a dream. Just like that one time... That was in the thought of Jack; he remembered how he had experienced something like that once already, but he could not remember it that well.

>>Cheer up, man, it seems you had a bad dream in the brief time you were asleep because of the alcohol," he said cheekily. He drank the alcohol with Jack's eyes, just following the way he drank it. He looked at his bottle of alcohol. As he was about to drink it, there was a smell—the smell of rotten eggs.

There was a realization. He realized what was going to happen. He wanted to shout. He reached his hand to Flame, but he was too late. An explosion occurred, and he saw that Flame was swallowed by the flames. The scenario changed. It was a dream; it was just a dream, but it was too real of a dream. It was like, back then, he was reminded of the past of a place he was in that was like hell, something he thought was just a dream before, like now. Rain fell. Flame was on the ground, his face completely burned, the skull partly exposed, and more of his body burned. Flame was dead.

He looked around, and everyone else was dead too, everyone except him. He touched the left side of his face and felt the burnt skin; it was completely burnt, and he could feel all of it on his left hand, which was also completely burnt. Flame suddenly grabbed the leg of Jack, pulling himself up and speaking in a deep voice: "I died because of you." The voice was filled with hatred and great agony. Each time Flame moved, Jack saw the pain. He flinched out of pain every single time but clanged upon Jack's shoulders.

>>I died because of you; you killed me. You are the reason it all happened. Those were lies. Jack knew it, but he could not help but cry. These memories all came to his mind. The memories were all vivid. He was mumbling the words, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm just so sorry." He was crying as he was saying that. He woke up. He had clenched his chest. His heart was beating.

>>Why don't you just kill yourself, Jack? Maybe this time you will stay dead. The flame spirit spoke. Jack looked at him, and a weak smile came on his face. He smiled with emotion and excitement.

>>That's right... I just ended myself.

******

It was a sunny day, the sky was there, no clouds or anything; it was as beautiful as it could be with Jack there on a cliff. He looked at the far distance, his eyes glowing, and he had a smile on his face. He said, "Death is the way to escape suffering, and denying death any longer will make it worse for me," and he jumped down from the cliff, hitting the ground straight with his head.

The skull broke the flesh, squeezing it, and the entire head exploded like a balloon, with the blood and brain mass spreading around like water that was once in a balloon. The bones at his chest pierced his organs cleanly, and the bones at his arms and legs busted out of there through his flesh, bending and breaking in the end.

There it was the dead body of Jack. Being there, no one would know he had died; he had no meaning in this world and lived. There was nothing for someone like him in this world that was once his home.