A life so hard that nothing can be said about it.
My life has been tough. But I held on to one simple, stubborn dream: to make this country great again. Once, this land was called the "golden bird"—rich in wealth, pride, and strength. But that was long ago. Now, most of it is gone.
I wanted to be a leader who could change all that. To build a place where people didn't have to worry about money much, where everyone could live with dignity and hope. A country we could all finally be proud of.
I was in eighth grade when I first learned about colonization. Reading those pages, I couldn't help but wonder how different my life—and my country—might have been if those white ass men hadn't come here under the guise of business and conquest. But history is history, stubborn and unchangeable. So, like everyone else, I had to accept it and move on.
That realization planted a seed in me—the seed of a dream. A dream to make this country great again, to restore what was lost, to build something better for the future.
After years of studying and fighting my own battles, I graduated and took a step toward that dream. I fought my way into a national party by sheer effort and determination, believing that this was the path where I could make a real difference. But destiny had other plans.
One by one, my ideas were ignored, dismissed, or outright rejected. I had so many things I wanted to change, so many things I wanted to build, but every time I took a step forward, I was met with resistance. I realized quickly that I was not welcomed as a force for good; instead, I was seen as a threat to those whose only goal was to fill their own pockets. People who cared more about money and power than the country's well-being looked at me as an obstacle—one they had to push out of the way. That's when destiny stepped in.
It was a Tuesday morning when everything fell apart. I was sitting in my small office, going through old files, actually. I was looking for something, anything that might give me a clue about the corruption I'd been investigating within the party.
That's when I found it.
A ledger. Names, dates, amounts. Prominent party members, government officials, all connected to a network I didn't know existed. My hands were shaking as I read through it. This wasn't just corruption—this was systematic theft from the country itself.
I sat there for hours, staring at those names. I knew what I had to do. I knew it would destroy everything I'd built within the party. But for the first time since joining, I felt like I was finally on the right path.
I made a copy of the ledger. Then I walked out of that apartment with only one thing on my mind: expose them all.
When I got home, I knew something was wrong immediately. There were shadows in places shadows shouldn't be. I thought maybe an animal had gotten in, but then I heard them— footsteps, deliberate and calculated. Assassins. They were waiting for me.
I didn't think. I just ran.
My heart pounded as I raced down the stairs, two at a time. Behind me, the sound of their footsteps echoed like death chasing me. I had the ledger. I had proof. I just needed to survive long enough to reveal the truth.
Then I saw his car.
My best friend. Relief crashed over me like a wave. He was the only person I trusted with the truth, the only one I'd told about my plan. I scrambled into the passenger seat, gasping for breath.
"The reporters," I said between shaky breaths. "We need to get to the reporters. I already called for a press conference—"
"They won't come tonight," he said quietly, eyes on the road. "It's too late. They'll be there tomorrow afternoon."
I wanted to argue, but exhaustion settled in. It made sense—it was the middle of the night. I could wait. "Okay. Just… take me somewhere safe."
"There's somewhere I need to go first," he said. "Just one place. Then we'll figure this out."
I nodded, too desperate to ask questions.
But as we drove deeper into the darkness, I began to feel something wrong. Trees started appearing on both sides of the road. Dense forest. The kind of place where no one could hear you scream. My instincts screamed at me—why would he bring me here? Why now? At this hour?
"Where are we?" I asked, my voice uncertain.
He didn't answer.
Then I saw the headlights. Multiple vehicles, blocking the road ahead. My blood turned to ice.
"No," I whispered. "No, no, no—"
The car doors flew open. Gunshots erupted into the night. I bolted from the vehicle, running blindly into the darkness of the forest. Branches whipped at my face, drawing blood. My lungs burned as I pushed my body to its limit.
Behind me, more gunshots. One caught me in the left leg, and I fell hard, pain exploding through my body. I crawled forward, desperate, refusing to give up
That's when I looked back.
My best friend stood there with the men—the assassins, the killers sent by the politicians I'd tried to expose. He was talking to them, gesturing, pointing in my direction. He was with them.
The betrayal hit harder than any bullet.
"Why?" I screamed, my voice breaking. "Why are you doing this?"
He didn't even look at me. He just smiled—a cold, empty smile that erased every memory of friendship we'd ever shared. He had told them everything. Every plan, every detail, and every person I trusted. He had sold me to the very corruption I was trying to destroy.
I collapsed onto the forest ground, my leg screaming in pain, my mind shattered. I looked up at the night sky, at the stars that seemed so distant, so indifferent to my suffering.
"Why?" I cried out to the darkness, to God, to anyone who might listen. "Why is my whole life like this? Why? What did I do to deserve this? When I finally thought I could do something good, something right, this is what happens? Why, God? Why?"
A gunshot rang out.
My friend crumpled to the ground beside me, blood spreading across his chest. He had been shot by the very men he'd allied with. His eyes went wide with shock and regret as death claimed him, his final moments filled with the realization of his own betrayal.
And I was left alone in the darkness, bleeding, broken, and utterly defeated.
One of the killers moved closer, eager to make sure I was really dead. I did the only thing I could—I lay perfectly still, pretending to be lifeless. But he was no amateur. Even after bending down to check, he fired another shot. By some luck—maybe the night's shadows or a flicker of fate—the bullet only grazed my skin. It missed any vital spot.
When they finally left, I stayed still for a while longer, unwilling to risk revealing myself too soon. Slowly, with all my strength, I pushed myself up and leaned against a tree. My body was burning with pain. I could feel blood soaking through my clothes. There were three wounds—one deep in my left leg, the grazed one on my side, and the worst one in my back. The hurt from that last one was sharp and cold, like a flame burning inside me.
I have never felt pain like that before. Each breath was a struggle. I knew I didn't have much time left. My mind started to wander, trying to find comfort in memories. I thought about the happier days with my parents—smiling faces, warm hugs, laughter filling the house. But those memories slipped away like smoke. The faces I loved the most started to blur. At that moment, I realized how much I had forgotten, and the pain of losing them washed over me harder than the wounds.
Tears welled up, and I found myself whispering to God, asking why all this was happening to me. What had I done to deserve such suffering? I thought about all the plans I had—the dreams for my country, for a better future—and now it seemed like everything was slipping through my hands. My body grew weaker, my vision dimmed, and slowly, I felt myself fading away, drifting into darkness.
I thought I was slipping away into darkness, ready to give up. But then, out of nowhere, a soft, clear voice echoed in my mind. It wasn't a dream, and it wasn't some trick my mind was playing. It was real—I could hear it, like a gentle whisper reaching through the silence.
Before I could even understand what was happening, my consciousness faded completely. Suddenly, I felt myself floating, weightless, and lost in an endless sea of darkness. Time and space lost all meaning as I drifted farther and farther away from everything I knew.
And then, something completely unexpected—something ridiculous—happened.
I couldn't make sense of what was happening, but one thing was clear—maybe God had given me another chance. Suddenly, I found myself small and helpless, a newborn again. A beautiful woman gently held me in her arms, and next to her stood a man—her husband.
At first, I wanted to deny it all, to refuse this strange new reality. But deep down, I knew the truth. I was reborn. These people? They were my new parents.
And just like that, my second life had begun.
To be continued…