#rapio

Grief, love and loss.

Alexander Hamilton hates the concepts of such mediocre concepts.

He always thought mourning would be a pointless concept meant for the weak and soft unlike how he usually is. For it is a hindrance towards his goal of a legacy. That is — until he experienced said losses, himself.

“I didn't mean to do it.” His words came out uncharacteristically quiet. He tried again, but the words died before he could let it flow out of his throat.

For how he is so foolish, that he is unable to foresee his mistakes until the moment has reached to be ‘too late’?

‘ Eliza. I'm sorry, my dearest Betesy, I deeply apologize for the misfortunes known as my actions and what affects it has caused upon you.’

He had written, yet the second he finished the sentence, he crumpled up the fine paper and tossed it away immediately. Running his hands over his face, feeling his calloused fingers and palm get wet from the tears streaming down his eyes.

Standing up from his desk, the floorboard beneath him cracked. He resides not in his and his wife's shared bedroom, but in a guest room. Ironic as it is his estate and home, yet for his wife's anger and fury is too much for even him to bear.

What a curse it is to love someone..

He had taken the guilt for his actions straight to his very core. Shameful in everything he had done, he wishes nothing but to atone for his actions, adopting just the family name Hamilton in use. He doesn't feel like he deserves using his given name.

To sacrifice so much for a person's approval. Why must he condemn himself to such a trouble? Though, he must admit. Trouble he had brought upon himself and to those whom he loves.

That matters not now for he had committed a grave sin. Blinded by his ego, and deaf to suggestions, he had crafted a catastrophe of a pamphlet uncovering his darkest journey. Every truth he uttered, no matter if said truth was of a person he was close to or not, it's his truth which mattered. But, in doing so, he had stripped his dear wife of her voice.

He hadn't realized that in the favour of speaking for his name, he had ruined his family’s life.

For his wife had banished him from their shared house — one he doesn't deserve off, he has wasted away in his office. Once again drowning himself in work, the only way he can. Occasionally, he'd visit, offering peace and apologies, though it is not nearly enough. Angelica will usually kick him out as well..

For how he is now, everything he had cherished went down hill. His relationships with his friends, in which he had thrown under the bus in favor of his own work and so does his family — gods is he stupid — and he is left with nothing but the bitter betrayal that chained his being as if he's a prisoner.

He must've been selfish, he knows he is. But he couldn't quite handle it anymore. The humiliation from his political rivals, the love which had turned to hate and how the inability to be enough forever haunts him — how could he salvage this now? How could he get out of this trouble now?

…

He couldn't.

The exhaustion that washed over him is palpable. He wishes not dwell on it any longer. He knows the only way for him to escape this is through death.

Ironic for he spent his life avoiding that impending doom.

Maybe it's an appropriate time for the end to come. To prolong this suffering would be of no point other than his own personal torment. And for how much he hates himself — he's positive he'll lose his mind the moment all his mistakes caught up to him.

For one last time, he picked up a stack of paper and a quill. Dipping his fine quill onto a glass of ink, he began to write.

First — To my dearest, Eliza. My beautiful wife and most forgiving, best of wives and so best of women, daughter of Phillip schuyler. The weight of my transgressions had caught up to me. So I write this as an apology for staining your name and silencing your voice, for making you feel helpless and frail.

Second — To my sweet boys and girls, my beloved children are cared for and cherished by many. And to Phillip, for my boy, you must read this letter to your siblings to mention my farewell ….

Third — To my dearest Angelica. The apology I have for having caused harm and betrayal for your sister will never be enough, disregarding that entire fact— my mistakes and wrongs have been noted and I have suffered accordingly to my actions. Our bond in which I have cherished, I apologize within the depths of my heart and pride, for the actions which caused you harm.

He wrote too, to Burr, his first friend — his enemy. For how he could remember vividly the first time he talked with someone in the bright palace of New York city. Someone who faces his whims from start to finish, watched him grow from a mere nobody to a member within the cabinet and a founding father to this new nation, the source and advocate — architect of the new and improved financial system.

And to Madison and Jefferson, to his foes whom he had fought with the sharp edges of his words.facing front to front even in public spaces,aiming at each other’s throat for their position to be challenged. To rise beyond their level. Looking at it, their arrogance is to be questioned. Well, his arrogance, mostly, but he still stood for what he had fought for, his beliefs and ideas are the only thing keeping him alive anyway.

Dropping his quill, the sound of glass clinking as its edge clashed against the quill loud in his ears. He had folded his letters neatly and put it within the top drawer of his table, for whoever will search for his disappearance will find them easily. His eyelid had lowered, he could feel it swollen. To be sure, he walked over to the corner of his office where a mirror resides. To reassure himself of his doubts, the mirror shows the reflection of a man Alexander would've recognized as his “usual” self, except for the deep space of pale splotch across his entire body. His skin is almost ashy in comparison to his lively warm tones back when he was in the military. His cheek bones have sunk, not by a lot, but enough to show that he had lost some weight.

Has he been eating? He hadn't been keeping track lately.

Walking away from the gruesome view of himself, he took a satchel and slung it over his shoulder. He'll take a walk and refresh himself, one last view before the end approaches.

As he was walking uphill, the warm light of dawn shined upon him. Colouring the side of the hill along with himself with a beautiful orange glow.

He reached the peak of the hill with some struggle. It's been a while since he did anything physical. Hamilton set seat on top of the place, promptly admiring the beauty of the scenery before him. “It's beautiful.” He murmured, hypnotized by its beauty.

Beautiful things too, must come to an end too. As the sun rises up, the warm glow slowly dissipate for the sun to emerge form behind the clouds to shine this earth once more.

Hamilton stood up, preparing to walk down the hill and find a quiet place to end his life. Though his foot betrayed him as a misstep led him to a sharp rock, he slipped down, preparing for himself to hit something hard and perhaps kill himself in the process, but as he hit soil, the ground beneath him opened and—

“GaHk-!” He gasped for air as his body fell deep into the soil. The earth had opened what seemed like a path for him, a hole going straight down for he felt his clothing and hair rise up from the air blowing beneath him.

Hamilton closed his eyes, attempting to stay calm. It's what he asks for— death. This will certainly lead him to death. He'll repent what he did to Eliza. He'll suffer accordingly for his sins as the gates of hell swallows him.

But he did not land on hell.

“what is this..?” Hamilton croaked out, for he had not fallen painfully into a pure white room of no shadows. Barely solid in stature of a ground.

He rubbed his eyes, adjusting to the bright light, groaning annoyedly at the situation.

“Hello!” A cheerful yet eerily familiar voice quipped, resulting for him to immediately snap his eyes open.

The glare he got from the bright light is painful, but what's more so terrifying is the form staring back at him. “You…”

“Nice to meet you! I'm Alexander Hamilton! What's your name, good sir?” Said the man above him— Alexander.

That can't be true. He's Alexander Hamilton!