If you had to tell a story, how would you start?
The story of a novel, short story, fable, myth, the role of a screenplay or other forms of narration that you can find with just a click, with which you wish to make yourself known as the last vestige of life. Whether in a simple library where your story is gathering dust and waiting for a good reader, or in the movie you always wanted to see telling one of your adventures.
Everything has a background that attracts us when given the opportunity, something that in our unconscious drags us, because we are identified with it or because we hate it, it doesn't matter how good or bad a story is. How bad does it have to be for you not to like it? How good are your standards? And does this imply that you will learn something regardless of whether it's good or bad? What development do you expect... and from what point does it begin?
It seems my story has a development starting from the end.
Personality #14: {Does it really hurt you that much to leave it all behind?} 'Yes'
I..... hate it.
"How will I tell my death?"
The person in front of me is a tiny mosquito, but equally annoying. Accused of crimes against humanity and drug trafficking, in addition to being an experienced hitman. All he's been doing for the last half hour or well, "week" is torturing me until my organs want to escape from me. I don't know if I'm lucky because my body is so resilient thanks to what I've lived through, or unfortunate because of how much I want to die so I don't have to see his idiot face.
I'm not exaggerating, or maybe I am?, the public speaks of masochism when you're the one who lets yourself get caught. Wanting to leave or stay with your captor because it falls to you... Isn't that similar to some syndrome I heard about once?... What was it called?... this... this... ah! Stockholm Syndrome. The lack of sleep and empty stomach make your state far from optimal for remembering; drugs like scopolamine that cartels have at their disposal make their normal tasks usually one or two hours, not a week.
Personality #4: {Of course!, as if our conditions were normal hahahaha}
"You're already rambling little cockroach, I remind you that we've only been half an hour since your last blackout and we have plenty of time"
At that moment all I could spit from my mouth was a stream of blood that slid from my shirt down through my torn pants and onto the floor. This while I fall after he kicks me and sends me flying across the room, leaving me planted against the wall.
I watch as the blood falls slowly and I can only have blurred vision, but not from physical pain, but from sadness in the memories that arrive.
Any past.....
Personality #4: {heh}
***
Still, I must say that, although I have a body with unprecedented training or experiences, it should be noted that all they've done is give me bathtub water that they send me to when they feel bored or when they run out of conversation. The water in the jungle isn't very clean, let alone for drinking.
Nothing lasts forever.
No body is immortal, which is why the last thing to be lost should be your mind. And my morality and charisma are the only way I can distract myself that I can actually express, even if I'm just a puppet with no defining trait. That's why... is my head okay?, or am I just rambling with my captors to keep myself in one piece?
That's what I think I am.... An amalgamation of things with no proper way of upbringing, a terror and at the same time the terrified.
Personality#4: {You're truly a disgrace}
Oh, I've strayed again, what were we on... Ah! my captors
In my terms, I'm losing weight the way any fitness-addicted trainer would wish on any of his overweight boys desperate for saturated fats with no remedy.
How much self-esteem, irony, and sarcasm does it take to keep me on my feet?
After all, I don't hate stubborn people; I just hate stupid people who don't think they need change.
And I am change walking
So am I stupid or persistent?, Clinging to not losing myself in madness, does that count as persistence?
Then the idiot in front of me could be taken as stupid, right?, or perhaps there's a story that justifies his actions. What does the week we've spent together say... hahahaha I sound like a masochist.
If experience is the measure of how stupid people are; it's like saying God sent us into the world to commit stupidities so we could learn, that's what it seems like, I don't know what God says. Even if there are people who aren't like that, there's no exception to the curiosity of something new and risky that puts you on your new line of life. Like the people in front of me...
If this is a test for these people, I will be the one who judges whether they deserve to have their miserable lives marked by me.
In the room there are a total of 9 armed men from head to toe, 6 probably trained abroad by their team wearing a modular tactical vest, covered in pockets and straps, where they kept magazines, knives and small explosive charges, multipurpose pants. Perhaps hired each one by the cartel, what you'd also call mercenaries; the remaining 3 seem low-profile cartel subordinates, kids if I could say so. All with a Glock 17/19, the 6 men with FN SCAR-L/SCAR-H rifles and the 3 kids only with their short pistols and simple camouflage military uniforms. You can tell by measure who's running the show.
In any case my resistance was declining at an alarming rate and although I had been able to drink water during the times they tortured me in the bathtub, I haven't eaten anything in a week.
Feeling an empty stomach is tedious, and anyway it's not even my primary concern. I was already somewhat accustomed, thanks to training since my childhood and of course if you could say I even had a childhood.
Am I complaining, or am I already rambling...?
Memories keep coming
Perhaps "He", who instigated me to obey those orders since I was a child, would be called a master, but because I keep these memories so vividly. I would say that I hate every day of my life, because of him, I'm alive the way I am; that life he gave me is the reason I would want to commit suicide right now.
The treatment he gave me in my early years is greater than any torture they do to me in this room; for which I think that in a way I should be grateful regardless of the hatred I carry for him.
Wait... hahahaha, am I still a masochist?
Am I really a masochist?, since when do I have such low self-esteem to degrade myself by saying so much bullshit.
But who could say that he's as close or idiotic as to call him that "Master or MÁSTER as an abbreviation". The supervisors called him master and we always referred to him as MÁSTER. Both out of obligation and out of respect.
Respect instilled by admiration leaning toward the fear he could instill.
For each district there is a MÁSTER assigned, as understood so far the rest of the commandos remain hidden and their MÁSTERS await orders to move to the next stage.
After the incident of the 5th district, the way we could move changed. Everything went wrong....
So I'll simply say he's my superior... or not... better... Mmmm maybe you can't even say he has a fixed role. Since the interaction between him and all of us was that of a cynical sociopath playing with his first creations.
After all, he is the creator of that place, of my torment and that of hundreds of my brothers.
The MÁSTERS have full rights over each district, which gives them a green light to do whatever they want with the Códices, all in order to bring results.
***
Damn it!, I feel my eyelids drop.
Every time I try to sleep he or a subordinate comes with a bucket of ice water, and if that's not enough they bring the high voltage cables and continue.
"aaah, how sad that our dear guest fell asleep, well what can be done. bring the pliers, let's speed this up, it's already pissing me off"
At that moment I blacked out for better or worse from the pain or from what was coming.
I ended up calling the one torturing me Rudolf, similar to the name of a dog from a companion of mine from the district, who, even though my companion called it, it never paid attention and broke everything in the store where we slept.
Like Rudolf, I gave all the people in the room dog names, although without telling them why those names, since if they found out I'd end up a floor deeper than where I was and then yes, I could say I could sleep peacefully forever.
My senses are more acute than those of normal people, for that reason the slightest sensation is already enough to be on alert. After 5 minutes I regained consciousness, although not by will.
"since you're awake, how about we continue".
Aaah, he again, he doesn't get tired. And yet I feel empathy for what I see of the poor souls without destiny. It's horrible to be a slave no doubt...
"I've tried this very few times so I don't guarantee they're going to come out whole or in pieces. The thing is we'll remove them all anyway, I hope you enjoy it"
The idiot laughed horribly, if I had to describe it I'd just say it's agony to hear such an ugly voice. Worse was not what bothered me at this moment, what annoyed me was a pointed pliers he had in his hands and with which he was trying to remove my nails.
He peeled and removed them twisting them in a way that made the pain greater; Just basic forms of torture.
At that moment more memories of my past came, shitty memories that returned and screamed at me; or rather it was I who screamed in those memories. Days when I didn't have these personalities yet and I was tormented being locked in that place.
A place that, ironically, I called my home; of course if we only count that I lived there, ate, defecated and that regardless of the most horrible testimony of redemption or hope I've ever heard in my life, it didn't compare in the slightest; I seriously wished to die.
The degree of pain mine and that of those who accompanied me in that time. It makes me see myself as a complete egoist, compared to how they, would have spoken happily of being together at these moments if they were alive.
But they left me alone!
Damn life!
If only I could see them...
Personality#4: {Ha!, and now are we just painted or do you just like fucking with your shitty narration}
'.....I'm sorry.....'
Personality#4: {Come on continue!, you're crazy anyway}
***
Beside Rudolf appeared a semi-transparent presence that spoke to me only making me feel bad but with the objective that I see things as they are, because without them I'm just a container of death and emptiness.
In this prison I have, there is only one will present and it is to kill everyone responsible for a death.
If waiting to accomplish this tedious mission wasn't torture enough; the reality was that I had strayed too far from the main objective and that, although the army came to get me out, it wouldn't be to find me alive; but the corpse that with so much effort they've tried to obtain since the fall of the principality.
There are ways to describe how merciless those of higher rank are in order to save themselves from their clumsy attempts at glory, but nothing compared to what the MÁSTERS could do.
If I get out alive I wouldn't want to return to the place where they were the cause of this evil and the death of the other Códices. If only I could die in a way that makes my brothers proud. If the other Códices saw me in this situation, they would only look at me with rage.
Personality#4: {I do, after all you didn't keep your promise when we said goodbye, did you?}
'CAN YOU LEAVE ME ALONE?!'
'.....'
'stay quiet'
One fact is that we lived to be the ultimate weapons of a country in corruption and that out of simple fear or out of "lack of control", they made the decision to kill us all.
'But!'
what they did has no forgiveness. Killing us, was in our terms, just by saying a few words we would have followed almost any of their orders at first, for the same reason they let it go to their heads and fear then blinded them giving us proof that we shouldn't follow anyone. And yet, the way they chose to eliminate us... is monstrous.
And my brothers...
I lived for them, they gave their lives for me, and now I don't know how to reciprocate their sacrifice.
I should die. 'Guys...'
In light of this I ask:
In what way?
"As far as I know, there is no dignified way to die, after all, we are only beings created by God, that no matter our maximum splendor, we couldn't avoid having an undignified death."
That's what my brother told me
In simpler words, no matter how much you shine at the beginning or end of life, death will always be an action of perfection that in our world will be shown imperfect. You can't control the perfection of the concept "death", only the imperfect action we have in our world.
In this way it only proves that your death will always be undignified.
At first I thought that if you or I or the rest of the world died; somehow they would be happy or rest in peace. But that's an ideal you think when you believe you die in some honorable or calm way, you're at peace when you're already dead, not before. You will always be burdened until the last moment of your life, whether by illness, sadness, fear.
Of all the ways, there isn't one that's dignified, however...
If I know that you can live that way, after a long time I understood it.
Not die, but live.
For that same reason, after my brother finished with the first explanation, he wanted to emphasize something to me. I don't know if it was his intention to tell me, but he said the following:
"Perhaps there is no dignified death for anyone, not even for us Códices. But I believe that we can lead a dignified life. I believe that the fact of living in the way we want allows us to give ourselves the perfection we choose. Perhaps that free will, is the answer and the wall is the control of the laws of the world."
Perhaps having options is what gives you hope.
After that my brother went to eat, and that would be the last night I would see him smile looking at me with those same broken eyes.
We are machines for killing and with our specialties, but can't we live that desired life?.
At this moment the question just comes to me: how should I die?, I don't know if it's a bit morbid, but I can't see myself having that dignified life my brother talks about.
Live or die.
'What do I do brother, help me I don't know what to do.'
***
'aaaaaaaaah!' a desperate scream clouded my mind, I refused to give them the satisfaction of seeing me scream
After returning to reality, I only had my toenails left, although not for much longer.
The person I saw transparent in the darkness and in the room only made a gesture of disdain on his face before turning around and remaining watching the mercenaries with indifference.
Personality#4: {Pathetic}