Work Text:
William had climbed onto the highest rooftop of his estate and spent the last few moments of his life gazing at what he would leave behind. The family that couldn't care less if he lived or died as they too were dead, a lover that turned out to be nothing but a whore and a business that had collapsed when news of his father's true nature reached the public's attention. His family and friends were just faces he would leave behind, his lover a regretful memory. William T. Spears was once a man of high class and respected by those of equal wealth. But everything came tumbling down after his father's crimes were considered unforgivable by the state. Such crimes had given the Spears family a bad calling and left them to bask in the sins of the father. Soon he would be removed from his estate and forced to live on the streets of London. He wouldn't survive a day never mind the rest of his life. Committing suicide seemed to be the most logical conclusion in his current situation. Now here he was, staring at his estate remembering things that he wished he could forget. He wanted his memories would fade to black like his life when he ended it. That tree he used to climb when he was a child to see the nest of pigeons, that bench was where he and his lover spent their first kiss and that fountain was where his father's crimes were revealed to the family. So many memories, good and bad that he wished would leave his corpse when he died.
What would greet him after he died? Hell? Purgatory? Heaven? Or just black? Was there a place after death like his mother had firmly believed in? Was there indeed heaven where all the kind souls would go after their mortal bodies died? Was there a hell where masochistic, perverted, murders like his father would go after their souls left their cursed bodies? Was there a purgatory where he would have to wait and pray that he would go to heaven rather than to the fiery inferno of torture called hell? Or was death just like sleep, darkness so deep one could drown in it and so thick that not even a ray of light could cut it? He didn't know; he wasn't a firm believer in the religion his mother had forced upon the family, he couldn't understand it, it wasn't something he could so easily grasp, unlike others. His mother had struck him when he confessed his confusion of their religion and did not mention any more of the matter to anyone in his family or anyone he had considered a friend. Memories he wished he didn't have involved his father, the wandering hands and inappropriate touchings at night time when his mother was asleep. He couldn't readily confess something of this nature to anyone, his mother wouldn't believe him, his friends would find him to be lying for attention and the police wouldn't care less. This was a matter for the high class; the wealthy would deal with this by either making it worse by involving themselves in the acts his father committed or by killing his father if they were affected by the nature of the man. If it were not for his father to be caught touching that young girl, then his torment would have continued along the many others affected by this torture.
Now the business had collapsed, his mother had turned to alcohol and soon drank herself to death, and his lover had confessed her true nature when she learnt that there was no more money to be gained by a bankrupt family of nobles. Everyone was gone in his life, friends had abandoned him, and the public outside of his country estate never went near him in fear that he too was like his hanging father. This was the conclusion he had come to, how to relieve himself of both the pain and the stress he had felt over the past few months, this would be finally the end of everything. The night was chilly; he didn't care, the cold was just something that came with death and this cold was nothing like the coldness he felt towards all those in his life. The darkness used to scare him, stories of demons crawling through the night and killing children were the stories that his mother told him to keep him in line whether she believed his behaviour was out of line. But now the darkness was something he no longer feared; this darkness would greet him when he finally closed his eyes for the very last time. He was ready, William T Spears Jr of the Spears family was prepared to die, prepared to greet death like an old friend, the one that hadn't left him when his father's crimes were presented to the public. The ground which he would greet was gravel, it was tended to on a regular basis, but the servants of the estate had long left for other occupations leaving the estate empty of life, so the garden had fallen into despair.
One step, that was all it would take to fall and connect to the ground. Just one step and everything would be over, he would be forgotten by history, and his memories would be defeated at last. He would welcome whatever would greet him after death, whatever it may be darkness, fire or light he would greet it and not complain. One step... Just one tiny step. Did he regret his decision? Was he truly ready to die? Could he turn around and walk back into his estate and hatch a plan that would welcome him back into society? He could think of nothing but death. Death was the only option he had, the best idea he came up with and now was the time to die. He could wait for no longer for death, and so he had come to this rooftop. The wind of the night seemed to agree with him; it pushed against his back as he stood on the ledge and appeared to force him to take the final jump. He took the step; he dropped, life flashed before his eyes. Small, fleeting memories that he couldn't care less for and he hit the ground... Then blackness.
"William T. Spears Junior
Son of William T. Spears Senior and Katherine Marson-Spears
Age 21
Born 5th May 1699
Died 17th November 1720
The cause of death - Suicide by high fall. Injuries included many broken ribs which have pierced his heart and lungs. Severe damage to the head, broken skull as a result of landing face down. Other injuries - none of the particular interest of remarking upon.
Other remarks- none."
"Collection complete. Welcome to the life of a Grim Reaper, Mr T. Spears."