Author's Note: If you've come here because you're reading my other stuff, yes, I know I should be updating the multi-chaps, but I had a rough day today and decided to write about someone who had a worse day, and imagining Aubrey Posen as she came off the stage at the first ICCAs fit the bill. I expect this will only be a two-shot. Forgive me any grammatical errors. Make my day better, please, and review!

Trigger warning. (To tell you specifics would give away the end, so just be careful.)

"Posen! What the hell was that?" Alice is screaming in my ear. We are off-stage; I don't really remember how I got here. The taste of vomit in my mouth, my stomach still churning, still recovering from the fact that I just spectacularly tossed my cookies over the entire audience at the ICCAs.

"Are you even listening to me!?" she shrieks, voice rising several octaves. Distantly, I realize that I never knew she had that range until this very moment. "I said, what the hell was that?!" I raise my chin to look her in the eyes, like a true Posen.

"Vomit. To eject all or part of the stomach's contents through the mouth, usually in a series of involuntary spasmic movements," I say, monotonously spouting off the dictionary definition that I cling to. Involuntary, it says. Not something I did on purpose.

If anything, she gets madder. "If I had wanted a definition, I would have consulted a dictionary."

Okay, so maybe that wasn't the right response. Should I apologize? "I'm sorry?" It is a more a question than a statement.

"Damn right you should be. Do you know what you did, Posen?" She spits my name out of her mouth, like it was a bad taste.

"I interrupted our set."

"Interrupted?!" Her face is red now, eyes flashing. "Interrupted? You just single-handedly destroyed our chances of winning the ICCAs. You disappointed not only us, the school, our fans, but also every other female acapella group. We were going to be the first to win the ICCAs, and now we're the laughingstocks of acapella. And not only did you just ruin the dreams of aca-girls everywhere...You. Embarrassed. Me."

There is silence after her final statement. And then Bumper Allen (where did he come from?) adds, "You know, you can't be the Barden Bellas anymore...now, you're the Barfin' Bellas!" And all the Treblemakers break out laughing, jeering at us.

I look around. The faces on my fellow Bellas are a combination of in shock, embarrassment, and absolutely disgusted. I can't even look at Chloe. She is the only one who stands anywhere near me, but of all of them, I can't bear seeing the disappointment I am sure is in her big blue Disney eyes.

That is, at least, until an imposing figure approachs us, eyes like steel. That is the one I can't bear to disappoint, the one I have worked my entire life not to disappointment. "Aubrey Marie Posen!" he intones. "Look at me."

"Yes, father?" I look up. He stands there, dressed in his army uniform, an large bear of a man. I can feel the Bellas shrinking further away from me; even Alice, through she pretends not to be, is intimidated by my father. Chloe stays, a foot or so just behind my left shoulder.

"You have embarrassed me. You have disgraced the name of Posen. Not only this...incident," he says, with a sneer, "which I didn't even want to attend, but your mother convinced me, saying it was important to you, but you have allowed your preoccupation with this...group..." another sneer "...to interfere with your academics." He holds up a sheet of paper. My face blanches. How on earth did he get that? "A C on your midterm, Aubrey? I can't even begin to tell you how ashamed I am of you right now."

"It was a rough day; I had two midterms that day, back to back. I've done well in the class apart from that test. It only dropped my grade to an A minus. If I do well on the final, I can still get an A."

"An A minus, Aubrey? You have an A minus in a class right now? A stands for Acceptable. Everything below it is a failure. And stop making excuses for yourself. Explanations are excuses."

"Yes, sir."

"You know my motto."

"Yes, sir."

"What is it?"

"If at first you don't succeed, pack your bags."

"That is correct. However, against my better judgment, your mother has convinced me to give you a second chance. Listen closely. You will bring up your grades. You will not lose your 4.0 gpa. If you do not do this, you will no longer be a Posen. I have no room in my life for anything less than perfection. You will be cut off financially, because all you will be good for is flipping burgers at McDonalds. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, sir."

"And lastly, if you do bring up your grades, I will allow you to finish college at Barden next year. But if you decide to continue on with this nonsense," he says, waving a hand around the Bellas, "you will redeem yourself here, as well, next year. I have no room for embarrassing failures in my life. What will people say to me? You're supposed to be a credit to the Posen name. Have I made myself clear?"

"Perfectly, sir."

"Good. The next time I speak to you will be when your final grades have come in. Do not disappoint me, or it will be the last time we speak." He turns on his heels in crisp, military fashion and walks away. I vaguely note my mother, standing quietly in the back of the room, waiting for him to escort her out. While most people might expect their mother to come up to them, to comfort them even after they've royally screwed up, I don't. She did what she could for me, in mitigating my father's decree. It was more than I had any right to expect, and I am grateful to her for it, and ashamed that I needed it.

There is a period of silence in that backstage room. I know dimly that all the Bellas are still here, that they have all witnessed my father's censure. I just don't know what they will make of it. It can't get any worse, can it?

"Aubrey..." Chloe's voice speaks first, caring and comforting. I don't deserve a friend like her, I really don't.

Alice cuts in. "So, Little Miss Perfect isn't so perfect after all. Ha. You're a disgrace. Even your father agrees. What was that little thing you said earlier? 'If you're not here to win, get the hell out of Kuwait'?"

At that point, something in me snaps. I can't take it anymore. Between the cardio I do for the Bellas and my own workouts, I'm in good shape. And fast. I take off in a blind run through the hallways, until I find an outside door, which I take. There's a voice calling "Aubrey!" but it disappears when the door slams shut. It's nighttime, and it's raining, and I'm alone in New York City, but right now, I don't care. The only thing I care about is getting as far away from this as I possibly can. It's not very Posen of me, to run from my problems, but I guess I'm not much of a Posen anymore. My father said as much.

I don't know where I am, I don't know where I'm going, but finally I stop, hands on my knees, chest heaving as I catch my breath. I realize that my feet hurt; I wrecked my heels in my mad dash, so I just pull them off. Actually, I welcome the pain. I deserve it. I deserve to be punished. I keep walking. I wish I could run, but I guess I'm not in as good shape as I was. Another reason I'm a failure. A fuck-up. Useless. Unacceptable. A disappointment. I screw everything up. And not just for me either. Alice was right. I let the Bellas down. I ruined the dreams of aca-girls everywhere. I let everyone down. These thoughts are my companions as I walk mindlessly down the street.

I find myself at an overpass. There's a pedestrian path on the side, I take it. For all this is supposed to be the city that never sleeps, it is quiet. There are cars, taxis mostly, zooming past me sometimes, but that's all. I wonder about their occupants, what their night was like, whether they notice the broken blond girl in flight attendant uniform walking alone barefoot. I conclude that I am beneath their notice. I have sunk so low as to be invisible. There's nobody left who cares. I let everyone down.

I stop somewhere in the middle and look down. Somewhere far below me is water. I should know where I am; I have studied maps of New York below, partially in preparation for coming here. But I don't, and I don't really care right now. I know I could flag down a taxi and get back to Lincoln Center, or our hotel nearby. I have a fifty dollar bill pinned to the inside of my waistband. Aubrey Posen is always prepared. Or at least, I was. How can you prepare for this? How can you prepare for your life suddenly taking a turn for the worst, until you're walking the streets of New York City, barefoot and alone? You're holding on to your dreams of law school, of success, of finally being perfect, finally being enough to make him proud, by a thread? If the thread breaks, you're looking at a lifetime flipping burgers at McDonald's, or some other menial, minimum wage job, no friends, no family. How can you prepare for something like this? How can you prepare for life like that? Is it even worth it?

I look down again. It would be so easy to end it all now. To never again have to be a disappointment, to worry about not being enough, to agonize over the future, to reach for perfection and fall short every time. It could be over. It could be over tonight. Right now. So easy. Say good bye to pain. Say good bye to everyone, not that they'd miss me, not after what I did. Say goodbye to...Chloe? Chloe had always been a friend, more than I ever deserved. Would my death make her sad? It might. Chloe would be the person who would feel sorry when a complete failure of a human being died. I would be doing the world a favor, getting rid of myself, and Chloe would still be sad. But she would move on, make better friends, people more worthy of the sunshine that's inside her. I would be doing her a favor, getting out of her life. She could probably even lead the Bellas to finals again next year and win, without me there to mess it up. Why would they ever invite the girl back who vomited all over the audience? My whole group would be penalized if I stayed.

I climb up to stand on the edge of the railing. The more I think about it, the better the idea seems. The water below me is enticing. It would be so peaceful. A short moment of flight, and then drifting away. My body would be found eventually. My father probably would claim it, because it would reflect badly on him to not give his daughter a funeral. They would no doubt say it was an accident, that I got mugged and thrown into the river or something. He would never admit I had committed suicide. That wasn't something a Posen did. But I wasn't much of a Posen anymore.

I close my eyes, feeling the wind in my face and the rain on my skin. These are my last moments on earth. I don't know what happens after death; I have heard so many things. I guess this is my chance to find out. Maybe nothing happens. Maybe, when you just die, you die. You end, just like that. I would be okay with that. It's better than what Dante suggests. In the Inferno, all suicides are entombed, living, in trees, in the Wood of the Self-Murderers, to be eternally fed on by Harpies, due to the sin of taking their own lives. I don't really believe I shall be eternally damned for sinning, for taking my own life. If there is a God, which I can't even say for sure, I don't think He's that cruel.

I'm ready now. It's time. This is my decision, my choice. I am a failure. I don't deserve to live anymore. Maybe it's the coward's way out, but I'm past caring. Far past.

I take a step forward, and suddenly I'm falling.