A/N: This story takes place between season 1 and 2. Be warned, it's pretty dark.

They don't understand why I have to do this, none of them do. He killed my brother, and I must get my revenge. I don't know what we ever did to them. We are, no, we were peaceful citizens simply trying to help the world.

My brother, Rulo, an innocent citizen was drafted into the fight against them. Now, me, Rito, must track down the most gifted warrior in the entirety of the world. Me, a simple woman trying to avenge her dead twin. Me, a mother, a spouse, and, and now a murderer. I can't do it.

I pack up my bags. I leave, probably never to see my children again. Oh, my darling children. What will they think when they find out that their mommy's a killer?

I grimace. What must be done must be done.

I found him, but I am still a chicken, a wuss, a scaredy-cat. I can't bring myself to kill, to take another person's life. He lies there so peacefully, no idea of the harm - emotionally and mentally - that he has caused me.

My nation would be ashamed of me. If I was able to kill him, and bring back the body no less, I would have the highest honor possible bestowed on me. My family, and my descendants, would live in comfort forever.

He has a slight smile on his face as though he is not a monster.

As though he has not split apart so many families in his quest for (his version of) 'peace'.

He has a nation backing him, as though that could deter me.

A monster.

A murderer.

An eye for an eye.

He was the monster first, but as they say, two wrongs make a right. My brother may not have meant anything to him, but he meant the world to me.

The knife moves a centimeter closer to his neck. I am surprised that he has not woken up yet, surprised that I have not yet been caught. Four months ago, I would have been horrified at my actions. But everything has changed.

The panic, the paranoia, the fear, the hysteria, the insanity that I have been holding back for months now, begins to bubble over. The knife falls to the ground. My hands grip my head, and I rock back and forth. I grab my knife, and run back into the woods.

I would scream, but I know I would end up dead.

My breath comes in short gasps. The tears stream down my face. This never happens. I try to take a few deep breaths to calm myself, but nothing happens. As a usually emotionally stable person, I've only broken down three or four times during my life.

Is it just me or do I hear footsteps. I am trapped in my own body. I am lifted off the ground, carried away. I try to look around, but my body's gone into lockdown. I hear voices. Not in my head, I'm not that crazy yet, am I?

''Who is she?"

"I don't know. I think she woke me up."

''Why was she here?"

"Do you think she's dangerous?"

"No, I think she's crazy."

The voices begin to fade out, and soon I see black. When a wake up, I see three faces – one scowling face, one wary face, andHIM!

The monster.

I scream. I run forward, to charge, but in my hysteria, I don't notice his two companions running to stop me.

"You! You absolute monster. You killed him!" I scream, but then I collapse to the forest floor, sobbing. "You killed him. . ." I whimper, trailing off into a whisper.

I don't notice anything around me; I'm too wrapped up in my own thoughts.

I break apart their circle, and run into the woods. I don't know how long I ran. I stop, lean against a tree. I'm in an absolute state of paranoia now, glancing around myself every two seconds. I have to finish my mission. I can't go home without victory. But even if I do succeed, nothing will ever be the same again. I pound my fists against the tree trunk, my wails echoing throughout the forest.

Hands rake through hair. Tears stream down a face. I realize it's me. I don't know what has become of me. There is a wild look in my eyes. Crazed, even.

Suddenly, I begin to slip into darkness. But before I do, I have two more distinct thoughts.

I cannot kill the avatar.

A man's loyalty is to his nation first. Anything less makes him a traitor.

I'm dead. That's the first thing I think when I see all white around me. But I feel the wind blowing over me. Does that happen to dead people? Am I in the Spirit World? I'm not dead. Dead people don't feel a dull ache all over their bodies. Wait, if I have a body, so that means I'm not dead, right? I laugh a little at my astounding logic. Then I realize my current positions.

I don't know where I am. I mean I'm still in the Earth Kingdom, but where? I could be anywhere from Omashu to Ba Sing Se. And I'm in enemy territory. I look Fire Nation, I speak like a citizen of the Fire Nation, and I hold the value of the Fire Nation.

I won't be able to survive three minutes here. I'm as good as dead. I start walking. I come to the edge of a cliff. I don't want to jump, but it's probably the most painless death. I still turn away. I'm not that desperate yet.

A wind starts up, my hair blowing around in a flurry. Waves charge at the Cliffside. The ground shakes. Cracks appear. I break into a jog. Then a run. A sprint. The cracks chase me back into the jungle. Last time I ran this fast, I was running on adrenaline, rage, and fear. I begin to slow down, but the cracks continue. Physically, I am running from a storm. Mentally, I am running from the demons inside me. Emotionally, I am running from the past.

The cracks catch up to me. I fall.

Finally, peace at last.

A/N: I wasn't trying to romanticize death, because death/suicide is a horrible thing.

It would make my day if you reviewed. Constructive criticism is always welcome.