—"He who has a why to live can bear almost any how." — Friedrich Nietzsche
Paris, France. 28th August, 2025. 17:43.
How long has it been since I last interacted with another human being? It's hard to tell how long I've been here in this small apartment in the 11th Arrondissement of Paris.
Days pass, the sun rises, and sets. But that's about it.
Everything seems to have happened so fast. From leaving everything and everyone behind to remove myself from their lives to avoid being a burden. The only thing that kept my sanity intact was my cat. Lia. I wasn't sure why I named her that. Maybe because it sounded cute?
Actually, it's because I recited a list of names and she reacted to "Lia." I thought it was a pretty cute reaction and that's how I decided to call her that.
Honestly, that was a stupid move. If it wasn't for that, perhaps the weight on my heart would not be as suffocating as it was now. My days consist of me staring at the white walls in front of me, occasionally playing a video game on a console I haven't touched in years. And, of course, taking care of the precious life in my arms that I couldn't find it in me to part ways with.
"Meow."
There, she was. Always there to make me feel a little better, if even for a moment. I could have stayed like this. Forever in this cycle of pointless repetition. I was already prepared to meet such a fate. That is, of course, until the nightmare that was about to come next.
The sound of a window cracking was the first indicator that something was amiss. Immediately, Lia ran away from my embrace. She didn't run toward the exit of the bedroom. Instead, she stopped in the corner of the room and started hissing. What could have caused her to behave in such a way?
Soon, that question was answered.
"Is someone home?"
My whole body froze in place. Who...was that? A voice. Inside the house. Inside the room. How was that possible? This voice was not a familiar one. So, why was someone inside the room with us?
Slowly, I turned my head around. Only to be faced by a person that wasn't a stranger, despite the unfamiliar voice. In the darkness, I was barely able to discern his silhouette. A tall male figure. His hair reached down to his shoulders, and the mask that concealed his identity made the situation far worse.
No, not a mask. More of a...painted face. Like the ones in old paintings, that was torn off from the frame, and placed on his visage instead. To the point where it didn't look right. No matter what angle you looked at it, it seemed to twist and turn. Even more unsettling was the fact that, no matter how many times the expression on the painting's face changed, his actual face was not affected at all.
Lia was hissing in a manner that would indicate danger. And I agreed with her. Every cell in my brain screamed, alerting me of the imminent threat to our safety. He shouldn't have been able to break in. Unless he climbed up the outside wall of the building and broke the window, that was. Which, given that I lived on the 6th floor, was a feat on its own.
And, the damn window was intact.
I slowly stood up from the bed. "W-what are you doing here?" I questioned the individual in a low murmur, unsure of what else to say in a situation like this.
"Meow!" Suddenly, before I had time to react, Lia leaped from the ground, lunging at the mysterious figure, claws bared and hisses erupting from her throat. With her sharp claws, her paws slashed the fabric of his shirt and scratched him multiple times, cutting him and causing him to bleed.
"My, my." Surprisingly, the man didn't flinch. All that came out from his mouth was a soft, mellow whisper. Before his hands, in a swift and fluid motion, tried to catch Lia's small, fragile, and delicate body in his hold.
That didn't sit right with me. Not one bit. "Get your filthy hands off of her!" I yelled, charging forward, using the entirety of my weight to push him to the ground. The two of us, along with Lia, crashed into the wooden boards beneath, and the struggle to save her from him continued.
She was fighting back, her claws still piercing through his flesh. Blood was dripping from his open wounds, his clothes were soaked, and his screams of pain filled the air. He tried to get her away from him, struggling against the powerful grip of a small and ferocious predator. Meanwhile, I was bashing his face—if one could call that a face— with my fists. Endlessly punching that thing.
I can't really give up now, because if I do, what would happen to Lia? Could we have made a difference together? Would the two of us have gotten rid of the intruder and saved the day? Maybe. But that thing was just playing games, toying with us. I could see it in its cold, dead eyes. Its gaze was locked onto me, its lips twisted in an amused grin. Despite its current state, the creature had the upper hand, and it knew that. I could sense that. The fear, the anxiety, the adrenaline rush—all that was pushing me to try harder. To not let go. For her, at least.
She is my reason to live, after all.
"Damn..." the creature growled. After a short pause, his tone became a little more casual. "...you. Just how annoying can you be?!"
Just as his voice echoed, the atmosphere in the room grew denser, and suddenly, the entire place felt different. Something had shifted. The world warped, twisted and turned, the colors of the environment were drained away. It was like reality itself had been corrupted.
The man's arm was extended, reaching for the black void. As the shadows consumed the room, the entity's skin and the surrounding furniture began to fade. Soon, the dark abyss was the only remaining presence in the space, devouring the light and replacing it with a thick, oppressive veil of emptiness.
"Truly fascinating." His voice resonated, a blend of curiosity and satisfaction, coming from a direction unknown to me. It was like the words themselves were a part of the pitch-black abyss. An eerie and ominous feeling crept through every fiber of the surroundings, sending shivers of unease throughout the area. I couldn't pinpoint its exact location. It was everywhere. Yet, nowhere to be found at the same time. It was as though the void was the origin of his speech, rather than any particular source.
"Just like that silly Queen and the others, you have the same…willingness to ruin it all for me."
I understood at this moment why the fear of the unknown was considered the strongest kind of fear that humans were capable of. You couldn't attack something that wasn't physically there. Or could you? Well, I wouldn't have a clue.
And so my torture began. Within a split second, a searing pain tore through my abdomen, a deep gash in the center. At the same time, an icy chill coursed through the depths of my soul, spreading to the rest of the organs. My breath hitched, a strangled cry escaped, and I could hear Lia's hissing, and her frantic scratching, somewhere in the distance.
Yeah, that's she's my why. Right there. She's the reason. And that's not going to change. Ever.
But, no matter how much willpower I had, no amount of courage could have helped me. A single slash wasn't enough. Two slashes. Then, four. Five. Eight. Ten. Twelve. Thirteen, slowly I lost count, and the numbers blurred together, and soon the agony was no longer distinguishable from the previous wounds. Each and every slice cut through the muscle, ripping apart the very core of the body, tearing and destroying the inner parts, rendering them completely beyond repair.
Until, finally, the inevitable happened. I fell. The last of the strength left in the body had dissipated. I could not even feel the sensation of touching the ground. It was as if my connection to the external world had been severed, and the once-familiar surroundings had become distant and surreal. A numbness settled in, and I lay in an unmoving state.
"Lia..." The word escaped my lips.
All that could have possibly remained was the lingering warmth of her memory. The image of her adorable round, golden eyes and her sweet, loving purrs, was the only thing that kept me from falling apart in the midst of the darkness that enveloped me, threatening to engulf my consciousness and plunge me into the endless, inescapable night that awaited.
Throughout the entire duration, that monster had been laughing, creating a bizarre symphony that defied all expectations.
In the end, I could no longer fight against the inevitable pull of oblivion, and succumbed to the encroaching shadow.
As my eyelids grew heavy, a sight appeared. In a flash of light, the monster's true appearance was unveiled.
—He wasn't something I could understand.
It was a nameless horror.
Something that seemed almost alive.
Loomed over me, and the sight was unlike anything I could ever comprehend or imagine, a grotesque and terrifying spectacle. Every detail, from the shape of the limbs to the contours of the features, were wrong, distorted in a way that made no rational sense, a twisted and deformed anomaly. It was as though the boundaries of existence were challenged, and a monstrous abomination was born in the process.
Even though the slashes were painful, the very sight of this thing was causing my very cells to burn.
Cracks and distortions spread across my psyche, as if the mere act of witnessing this aberration was enough to tear at the fabric of sanity and unravel the very foundation of perception.
Lia was gone. That's all I could have thought of, at the time. Where could she have gone? Could the monster have killed her and then eaten her, or did she escape to find a better life than the one she could have had, had she stayed in the apartment?
A bitter laugh slipped past my dry, parted lips, and the corners of my mouth pulled up. I was aware that the sound that came from my throat sounded nothing like a normal human would have emitted, and that knowledge brought a certain sense of irony.
—I was a mess, to begin with, so, perhaps it was appropriate that my final moments were just as chaotic and disjointed.
With a resigned exhale, my eyelids drooped shut. My vision gradually faded, leaving behind a vast, unyielding void that was devoid of color or form.
"It's the end...huh?"
Humans aren't logical creatures, so why should they be rational in a situation like this? They're emotional beings, after all. In fact, I'm not sure if there is anyone who could stay calm and collected in a situation like this. Sure, there are those who may appear to maintain their composure on the outside, but deep within their hearts and souls, a tempest of emotions churns, a whirlwind of sentiments that cannot be contained or explained away by mere logic and reasoning.
It is during these trying times that the complexity of human nature becomes truly evident, revealing that beneath the veneer of civilization and sophistication, the primal essence of the heart still reigns supreme.
As my mind was beginning to drift further away from reality, the last few memories of life started to flicker before my fading eyes. The recollection of a peaceful, mundane afternoon when I was sitting in a classroom. Probably Philosophy. Yes, it had to be that. I could see a middle-aged female professor in front of the board. Her dark, long hair was tied in a bun, and her brown eyes had a glint of determination. Her demeanor exuded an aura of confidence and authority. Her glasses, resting atop the bridge of her nose, framed her intense and focused expression, adding to the seriousness of her persona.
"We have to ask ourselves: what is the meaning of being alive? What is the value of living and, ultimately, dying?" Her words were clear and resolute. She was passionate about her subject, and her dedication to her students was apparent. She believed in her teachings and wanted to instill a deeper understanding of life in her pupils. Even if, to some of them, her lessons didn't make a lick of sense.
I think this wasn't part of the class, and that was simply an extension of her own philosophy and worldview.
"Everyone is a main character in the story that life writes for us. We have to understand and appreciate our roles and the impact we can have on the world, no matter how big or small," the teacher said. There was a genuine desire in her voice to inspire her students to seek meaning and purpose in their lives. "But, at the same time, we also are secondary characters, background, or even scenery, depending on whose point of view is being presented."
To her, life was not just a collection of events or experiences. Rather, it was viewed as a grand narrative, a tapestry woven with countless threads, each thread representing a person's journey and the connections they forge with the people and things in their life. She believed that everyone was the central protagonist of their unique tale, shaping the trajectory of their own existence, and affecting the course of the wider saga that is the shared human experience.
"To live is to have a reason to keep on living, and to die is to lose that purpose, and, therefore, no longer exist. So, what is your 'why,' dear children? Why is it that you continue to exist?"
Well, miss. Turns out I won't be able to give an answer to that. Because, in a moment, the curtains will close on my performance, and the show that is called the play of life shall end. For good.
—How pitiful, isn't it?
The entity spoke, a voice that reverberated from a place unknown, the cadence and rhythm of its speech was in perfect sync, despite its eerie and inhuman origin. Its syllables were crisp and enunciated, punctuated by a hint of an accent that suggested an intelligence far beyond that of an earthly being.
There was a richness in its intonation, and its phrasing was eloquent, and deliberate, and carried a depth that was both captivating and unnerving, suggesting that the speaker possessed wisdom and insight far surpassing the comprehension of ordinary mortals. It conveyed the impression that the creature was an ancient, ageless being, and had observed the universe and its myriad mysteries, and had acquired an incomparable understanding of the intricacies of existence.
"I'll tell you, boy. Your 'why' was not strong enough. I was hoping for more. Much, much more." His words held an eldritch, chilling, and unsettling tone, and were tinged with disappointment, and regret, and a touch of frustration, as he voiced his disapproval. "Such a waste. Perhaps the next one will put on a better show."
And, in the next instant, everything came to an end, and a new beginning began, in the form of an ink-stained paper that appeared, floating, in the empty space of a blank, white room. On it, a simple phrase was written in the blood of an innocent feline.
"Well, then. Shall we restart the clock? Goodbye, ———————"