This is my first story posted to Snafu or any site for that matter. I've been thinking of Altruism, and how people killed it through selfish desires and sadistic pleasure. How the only people who are Altruists are forced into the job of caring for others, and end up killing themselves because of society's habit of ridiculing that which they don't understand. This is for those people. It's rated R for the various references to death and gore.
Chapter I - The Loner
They watched, as I, the spectacle taking place before them. I wondered what drived the boy to show off his dominance by beating on someone smaller then him. Was it insecurity, or something more primal? I found myself walking forward, trying to stop it, but I couldn't. I was dead, after all.
After the crowd dispersed I watched the smaller one laying on the floor. As far as I could tell, he had battered ribs, a black eye, and bruises all over his face. Yet he did not break down. I pondered what drived him to continue his miserable existence. Slowly, he got up, and walked to the buses. I floated above him, trying to see a break in his emotional state. But I saw nothing. Ah well. I already filled up my quota anyway. I caught the first Spectral Hole I could find, which happened to be in the gymnasium of the school. Sometimes I asked myself, Nix, why keep going? It was a terrible fate to spend eternity taking the energy produced from the pain of the living. But then I poured myself some wine and forgot about it. When I pulled the trigger, I thought I was going to a better place. I was wrong.
When I "woke up" I couldn't move. My soul was weak, because of the fact that before I died, I had multiple Reapers feeding on me. So I participated in the cruel joke that all suicide-ees have to participate in. I fed on the pain of my parents, and hated every moment of it. But if I didn't, I would of probably disintigrated. I hated that expression on my father's face when he found my corpse. It made me feel like I was terrible for killing myself. But they all deserved it. None of them understood my pain, and some didn't even try. I did get startled by one thing though. He started crying into my shirt. How could he do that? If he really cared, he would of tried harder to stop it. Like I always say though, you never really know someone until they're at their weakest.