Chapter 1:

A mom without her son



Why does all of this have to happen at that very moment?

Why couldn’t you all wait for just one single fucking minute? Huh? Why do you people have to be so goddamn loud AT THAT EXACT TIME, I do not care if your son just got blown up, I do not care if your dog just got shot, and I would a hundred percent not give a single shit if everyone you know is dead! I DON’T GIVE A FUCK!

You people couldn’t at least have a little conscience, a little respect for a dying kid’s last breath, all of you just have to lack empathy when it comes to me huh? Is that it? What did I do to deserve this, what did I fucking do to not have the chance to listen to my own child’s last words, tell me people, what did I do?!

My kid just died, my reason for being just vanished, and instead of feeling melancholic or sorrowful, I’m.. angry?

“Ahah ha,” an inaudible sound that barely resembles a laugh came out of my mouth, following it is a realization. Wow! I just laughed at my own kid’s death, such a wonderful person I am! Does living a fucked up life turn me into a fucked up person too? Is that even a question? I got irritated because everyone couldn’t give me a moment of silence with my dying kid knowing that they were being brutally massacred and cannot possibly not cry in pain. How can you even be more self-centered than that?

“Ahahahaha,” another sound comes out of my mouth, but this time it clearly shows signs of a laugh.

Stop laughing


Stop fucking laughing



A sudden colossal noise resonates throughout the entire building, striking my two eardrums as to coerce me into putting a halt to my guffawing.

“Looks like they have really done it this time huh?”

Around me are bodies, corpses, still warm since they have only been killed just not more than ten minutes ago. The killer is of course me. Well, at least the ones that still resemble a body were my victims, the crimson pile of meat that remains here that was once innocent people having their casual enjoyment in their weekend were my victims’ victims.

But, even if the direct threat is gone, there’s still something pulling me into a predicament. The tower where I am currently in is starting to collapse. I stand up and look at the ground after walking to the nearest window, my gauging ability isn’t great, however I can tell that from where I am, jumping down is not an option.


Now that I realized, I am still clinging onto life. Why? Really, why? My kid just died and I couldn’t hear his last words. It could have been my only motivation to keep on living but it is now lost forever. And yet, I still want to live. Wasn’t my kid the only one on my side in this unfair world? Wasn’t my kid the only enjoyment and pleasure for me in this boring world? Wasn’t my kid the only one left who cared for me in this inconsiderate world? So why? Why do I still want to live knowing that I am now alone?

The building finally reached its lifetime before I could find my answer, as though punishing me. The lower floors finally lost it’s balance, which results in the entire upper floor descending into the ground of which will be its grave for eternity.

“It was a shitty life huh.. the fact that I haven’t even shed a tear but instead, care for my own survivability, I do deserve this.”

Remarked myself on my absolute lack of sympathy for my own child for the second time. The term I have been using all this time for my kid sounds like I'm referring to a random young one I found on the street. I didn’t use the word “son” or even call my kid by his name. But in reality, I really loved my child, he was the only real thing I could call joy, at least it was when he was alive, a corpse can’t bring me any kind of happiness wouldn’t it? That’s why I’m not mourning for my kid, since this thing lying on the ground in the middle of this building isn’t my son, just a vigorless, inert body, a.. thing. My beloved boy, my bright and joy, my reason for living this whole time, to me was only… Yes, that’s right, so that’s the reason why I was angry, I was a total dickhead all along! (Not like I didn’t realize that sooner).

As I was rambling on about myself being a hypocrite for calling the world a fucked up place, the building walls finally make contact with the ground. I try to smile in my final moments, but then fail embarrassingly. In no way am I satisfied with life. I don’t want to die accepting that the world made me this way, I still haven’t gotten the so-called ‘character development’ or at least found a path to enjoy my miserable life neglecting all the shit stains that happens in it. In the end, I still couldn’t find a single memory to deceive myself into thinking that I had an average life, despite having done nothing memorable to this world.

“Dang.. I really fucking hate my life”

I mutter those words as darkness envelopes my vision.

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