Leaning against the wall, Zephyr saw Seven struggle to sleep multiple times and fail in each attempt.
Folding his hands, he simply shook his head pitifully, hating to see Seven this way.
"What do I say to him?" he asked himself, knowing well he lacked the skills for situations like this.
He would only make things worse.
'But he's suffering, who could say it was his fault?' he muttered, sitting on Elias' bed.
Stuck in a human suit, he tried, but really, what did Their Creator ever see in these sorry excuses of their replacements?
If He and His Carpenter Son weren't so prideful, why else would They entrust huge responsibilities to these weaklings instead of calling them back to their glory?
'These weakness incarnates, how could they ever get any work done? Hahaha...' Zephyr laughed painfully, his mask slipping as deep red fluid flowed from his eyes.
What weighed on him was heavy; heavier than what the world could bear.
Recalling...
He and his brothers were superior in design and more. Yet, despite being spirits with free will, they were subjected to eternal servitude to God and humans.
In other words, slavery...
'And the humans He bestowed with so much love?' he looked towards Seven, his eyes tweaking a bit with disgust.
'Fated to be conquerors only to be fettered...'
'They became slaves to sin.'
'All thanks to us...' He smiled bitterly, his evil half flaring at the realization of the highest act of injustice ever.
Because God still showed them mercy.
Like their pathetic existence wasn't already enough slap to their face.
'...'
An unconditional love like that, he could only wish... Was there still space for him in His realm?
'I mean I have already taken a step, betraying rebellion itself, ignoring the risk in that plan. I lived up to my name—traitor, so? Is there still a space in heaven?'
He lowered his head and considered telling Seven how he came to be. Maybe that way, he'd see death as what it truly was—in this case.
A cure!
His smile widened, his face carrying an aloof expression as he reminisced...
---
The moment of impact was familiar: splintering bones, the icy kiss of pavement, the crunch of flesh meeting concrete. The people above gasped, their voices rising in a panicked chorus.
"Someone call the ambulance!"
"Is he still breathing?"
"Check for his pulse!"
'As if it mattered!'
Voices rang through the air as everyone panicked at the scene of a robust-suited man who had just committed suicide by jumping from a rooftop. His blood splattered on the concrete floor, with his bones broken and twisted in unnatural angles.
People slowly gathered around him with cautious steps.
The scene was devastating, and deep within, they all knew that there was no saving this man.
"Oh my goodness, he moved!" someone in the crowd shouted in shock.
Then the snapping began!
Cracking sounds could be heard as the man lying cold on the floor started moving. His bones realigned, and whispers turned into screams.
After a while, a robust man dressed in a blood-drenched suit could be seen in place of the mangled corpse; he exchanged glances between himself and the people around him.
The surprised and amused look on his face did not go unnoticed.
Lights flickered as the death wish enthusiasts constantly took photo shoots of him, whispering questions that begged for answers.
Ignoring the shocked crowd, he staggered forward, the body still unfamiliar, his control slipping.
It was quite comical, but no one laughed at the stupid attempts of a dead man trying to walk.
A step, another. Then—
He kissed the ground...
Bright lights assaulted his eyes...
A deafening roar resounded...
A speeding ambulance!
Splash!
His head exploded as blood and white brain matter splattered on the concrete floor.
---
In a distant part of the world, a young woman wrapped in white clothes had logs of wood draped over her. She tried making movements despite the crushing weight, but the effort only awarded her the slightest twitch of her fingers.
As her consciousness sharpened, she heard muffled wailing sounds and chants of prayers.
Still powerless to do anything, she could only stay in place, consumed by an unbearable agony as the atmosphere around her heated up, and a fierce inferno engulfed her entire being.
---
In another place, a different scene...
The lady who lay still on the bed lifted her head slowly. Her eyes gradually adjusted to the light in the room, revealing the figure of a man who kept pacing back and forth, his face troubled.
Shifting slightly, she felt a soft cushion beneath her bare body. Instinctively trying to move the hand, her eyes narrowed at the realization that they were bound—
Each was restricted with a handcuff at the opposite sides of the bed frame.
It only took a few seconds for reality to kick in, but before she could conceive another thought, indistinct noises of a heated argument reached her ears.
It only got louder, and before she could process the presence of the loud visitor, she heard two bangs, and with it followed a painful feeling of being penetrated, and just like that...
Oblivion.
---
Similar events repeated themselves again and again in different parts of the world in such ways that they went unnoticed by everyone.
Zephyrus, the fallen angel possessing wind abilities, lived through thousands of lives even if the life cycle extended for just a few seconds.
It wasn't enough that this had to happen so many times he had lost track of their numbers, but he had to feel each pain they went through before dying again.
He's killed and tossed into another empty human suit, ready to repeat the cycle once more.
Having had ample time to think during those times, he kept zipping through lifecycles; he ghosted a smile, half rolling his eyes at the approaching machete.
'Since I can't change the sealed fate of the dead, how about I rewrite that of the living... ungrateful for life.'
Having made a decision...
Closing his eyes, he braced himself for the hit.
Hopefully... the last one.
---
A young boy could be seen standing on the balcony of a house in his pajamas. He looked downwards, the tears from his eyes falling towards the distant ground.
His chest heaved up and down, and his shoulders trembled; he let the soft breeze dry up his tears, which were instantly replaced by fresh ones.
Opening a bottle that contained an unknown liquid, he threw his head back and emptied the contents in his mouth, his face twisting in agony and strange satisfaction.
The sound of a bottle falling on a tiled floor rang, amplified by the stillness of the night.
Thud!
He fell on the floor, wriggling and twisting whilst holding his stomach like that would reduce the pain that tore through him. His mouth foamed as his eyes rolled backward, leaving only the whites visible.
Before long, a sharp flash could be seen in his eyes as he swiftly sat up, stuck his fingers in his mouth, and emptied his stomach contents on the floor.
This happened in one swift motion and after a few minutes of puking, his eyes darted slowly around his surroundings.
Smiling at no one in particular, he moved his limbs amusingly, getting used to his new, now permanent suit.
"#@$$#$$$_&!"
"Perfect! I'm here for good." he muttered, his voice raspy and barely audible.
He could still hear the churning of his viscera as it grumbled disapprovingly at remnants of the substance that destroyed it.
The healing kicked in, slower than usual but performed the required effect. He wiped the puke from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand.
He was doing great, for someone who already experienced scores of death.
He heard a few steps and chattering approaching him, his eyes suddenly turned sharp as he crawled to the rail of the balcony quickly.
Pulling himself up and steadying his posture, he adjusted his weight and threw himself over towards the other side.
Mid-fall, with a deranged smile playing on his lips, he spread his hands wide in the air as the wind caressed his face, afraid to meet his landing instead.
With a thud, he landed on the floor, dust and debris rising on impact. As the dust cleared, his mangled figure could be seen as the dust settled. His feet were in adjacent positions with each other, but he was seen still moving.
"$#$@#((&#$@$-$_+$#+(__$--+$$"
"Ouch!"
Interrupting him were a few panicked voices, and thinking fast, he used his relatively good hand to drag himself to a dark corner shadowed by a roof in case someone proposed looking down.
Seeking solace there, he tries to reconstruct his bones for better healing. Biting down on his lips occasionally to endure the pain, he naively thought he should have gotten used to...
He stifled a scoff, his ears picking a sound.
Footsteps were approaching!
The flash of the torchlight was insidious...
Searching for the suicidal son, he had been given very little time to enjoy the warmth and shelter it provided for his soul.
Remaining still was useless. His hiding place was anything but secure, and with his bones halfway from healing, he could barely stand up.
He would be caught. And then what?!
With the increased rhythmic pounding against his ribcage, the watery substance dripping off his face, and an irritating feeling crawling beneath his skin... he looked away, feeling the torchlight shine on him with its blaring flash.
---
Seven's room...
Zephyr smiled, sitting on Elias's neatly arranged bed.
"Good times!"
There was no going back for him now. His master would never take him back. But it's only expected, their Creator did the same...
He glanced at Seven, who was currently half asleep, stress lines marking his face, betraying the unease that haunted him even in sleep.
"The likes of him fall all the time, but He still chases after them. We fall once, he says it's eternal. Why them? And not us? Not me?"
"Maybe that's why I'm not Seven... Why I'm perfect but not complete. Don't you miss me too, hey carpenter?"