((A/N: This is the first fic I've written in forever, and I am sorry for that much. This story is the death of Stein, and his entire life that added up to his eventual suicide. As dismal as that sounds, I entend of having moments of happiness and sadness, everything one would and would not expect. This fic is rated M for a reason. It will inculde torture, scientific expiriments, sex, and who knows what else. But I'm really enjoying writing this story, and hope you all find it interesting as well. Reviews are much appreciated. By that, I mean PWEATTY PWEATTY PWEASE? Lol...insert the 'is not mine' disclaimer))
The end.
That is all, not another letter will I inflict upon whatever poor bastard finds this.
Because this is the last anyone will ever hear of Franken Stein, teacher, scientist, madman. Whatever else they've titled me. I could honestly care less.
And it is my pleasure to guarantee you that recording this will be my final act.
It is not out of some obscene self loathing that I end my life, not with a fit of madness or an epiphany about the 'sin' in my lifetime I have so willingly performed. No. I end my life with the simple pretense of ending it. Apathy. Nihilism gets old, believe it or not. In fact, I use to bask in my lack of caring. It made everything so much simpler. It made my interests and hobbies more...humane, perhaps. In my eyes that is. Looking back, my total lack of concern for the bodies I shredded likely did nothing for their comfort.
I digress.
Today, I am committing the horrid act of suicide. As simply put, I intend on doing something irreversible, but easy. Something clean. I see no need to make a show, I'm not looking for attention. A strong Soul Menace applied to the bolt through my skull will likely do the job.
Pain, shame, rage. All of these things will be instantaneously wiped clean. The madness, the sanity, none of that will matter anymore. And you have no idea of much of that idiocy I've been forced to deal with.
I don't care if there is a heaven, or hell, or nirvana, or paradise.
I'd prefer abyss.
It'd be more peaceful, I'd expect.
Ironic, I think. Here in my last act, my being calm. I cannot even bring myself to care. As always.
I have met Death. Hell, I work for him. I fear him not. I cannot fear. But as I sit here, scribbling down a morbidly sarcastic suicide note, I find myself pondering all of this. All of it. My, in my hour of need, I have become a whining bitch. That was unexpected.
Ah, hell.
If I am to die within the hour, I may as well dictate my most 'interesting' life. What an autobiography this will be. Heh. If whoever found this takes the time to read it, what a world of hell they'll be in.
My life isn't pretty, or rounded, or fair. There will be no happy ending, middle or even beginning really. Just the truth. I don't feel like sugarcoating, that's all I've ever done. I don't think I'll spare a detail. I won't censor the thing's I've done, what I think, what happened by my hands.
This will be interesting.