The everpresent feeling of pain.  That irritating remembrance reminds you that you are alive.  Of course, that leads to the depressing realization that you are alive and that the weight you carry about grows heavier. It's that deceptive baggage you carry that you pray that you can free yourself of its shackles with one more drink.  But that last drink only leads you down one of two paths. One path, you lose your mind temporarily, and you damage yourself. You black out and wake with the blood pooling in the palm of your hand from where your blade kissed your flesh.  It wasn't to kill yourself but to release all that pent-up hell.  At least this time, as for next time, maybe you will get luckier.  The Other path just leads to another drink, and you find a strange peace as you drown in your depression. You hurt so much, but you feed off it, and if you are lucky, you pass out before the feeling fades.  

 

 

Swinter died again, but it was Swinter, so this was like a regular thing for him. Swinters eyes slammed open, and he immediately started choking and flailing.  Like he was in… syrup?  Calming himself, no, it's just water; they had tried to drown him again.  Calming his nerves, he let the water fill his lungs, and he was ok again for now.  Realizing his eyes were open, his heart sank. They had thrown him into the deep, far off from the shore. He was trying to clear his head enough to figure out what to do.  He thought it was a catastrophic outrage death wouldn't at least cure the hangover.  The pain in his head and the pressure from the depth on his body were almost too much to bear.   And the pain around his ankles let him know weights had tied to hold him down.  

 

Panic filled his mind as he knew he only had a few minutes before he would die again.  And this cycle would repeat until he reached the surface, or it would just continue.  Already, he could feel himself slipping back into the other place.  Letting the panic fuel him, he pulled his upper half down to his lower and felt around his ankles. Rope, not chains, that would be good.  The knots, of course, were too tight to undo, so he took hold of the rope and started to pull himself into the depths.  After a good 20 pulls, Swinter began to get angry.  How long was the rope holding him down?  Another ten, and he felt the ocean floor.  

 

Feeling around in the pitch black, he almost laughed. This village had spared no effort in this. He was not simply bound to a significant weight and tossed in. It was a giant net filled with boulders. His mind started to go black. He had seconds now, and he tangled himself in the hemp mesh of the net. At least now, I won't have to start from the beginning, he thought as the blackness took him. 

 

 

It started the same way every time.  Seeing his wife reach out for him and Swinter desperately trying to get to her.  He would begin to rise into the air and get within a saint’s whisper to her before what tethered him to the earth held him in place.  Her face contorted in sorrow as yet again he failed to reach her.  After years of this, she would still be there, and he would still float up to meet her. But they both knew he would never touch her again.  Her Death had been permanent.  She held her hand to her chest and mouthed the words I will always love you.  Milky-colored tears fell from her eyes as she turned away from him.  That was the last time he had seen her.      

 

That had been Many decades and lives ago.  But Swinter still held hope every time he died, he would see her again. Without her presence, the other place he went to when he died had become just flashbacks of her death. He was forced to watch as the Mechanical abominations tore through her. Helpless to stop them.  Swinters life returned, and he screamed or would have if there had been any breath left in him.  The only thing keeping him moving was knowing this would happen over and over for eternity if he didn't get free.  Untangling himself from the net, he felt around the ocean floor for a sharp rock. 

 

 

As his hand grazed a long, slightly curved piece of smooth metal.  He stopped as the memory of his wife broke into his living mind.  There was only one thing that had metal that felt like this. It was a gritty smoothness with a slight vibration.  Willing himself to continue, he felt around till he felt the mechanical arm the blade was attached to.  A surgeon they had called them.  The machines that flayed humans and stitched parts to themselves.   One like this killed his wife, and later, he had seen his wife's face on that machine.  

 

He stopped fighting and couldn't move from the effect of the memories. He let himself die over and over. He didn't bother to count.  Eventually, sorry was overtaken by anger. Feeling for the blade's release, he found it, and its binding clicked open.  With the blade free, he quickly cut through his binds.  Clinging to the blade, he started to swim up. Without any air in him, it was like swimming with a body of bricks.  

 

Drowing several more times, his body would slowly start to sink while he was immobile.  But he managed to swim up more, then sink back.  Eventually, he made it to the surface, and his lungs filled with air, and he choked out of the water