AN: I have given up on "How Long..." If anyone wishes to continue/fix it be my guest. My passion for it isn't so great anymore. This one called for me though. Honestly, (even if I got Kartik) I wouldn't be able to handle being Gemma. The pressure and the guilt would crush me. I wouldn't mind Libba Bray, but I'm not. (Expertly snuck in disclamer!) WARNING: This author abuses the word I and commas. i.e. I,I,I,I,I,I,I,I,I,

I sit at my bureau. Sorrounded by combs and velvet boxes filled with glittering treasures.

I attempt in vain to tame my active curls, but not even a whip would help them. So I pin my hair up even as it fights venomously against its bejeweled capturer. My eyes stare at my porcelin skin dappled with its random brown dots.

My eyes flutter closed...praying to whatever God would listen to a girl like me, that when I open them...I'll be different. I'll be the girl who saved mother, in turn saving father, Who didn't play apart in the violent shattering of Ann's heart, and stand idle as Felicity's spirit was massacered by the realms. I could have stopped Pippa from dying and damning her to an afterlife with a dreadfuly corrupted soul. I could have not have left Kartik doomed to a life of hiding and shunning by his only family. Not even giving kind words in exchange for his pain, but instead I was cold and detached even as I heard the tune of his breaking heart.

I had so many oppurtunites to be a savior. For Lady Hope to ring true, and I let them casually pass.

I open my eyes to a monster. I spoilt all I touch. My love is a curse and a spring of pain sprotting out death and hurt. I feel like a curse on all life. Because I am.

Even after I have save my side of the realms, what happens to the other side? The ones that couldn't save themselves as Circe and her minons crept into their minds, melting in like dollops of butter on warm toast. Maybe somehow, I could have given them back their humanity on a silken pillow.

But who would bring back mine?

The tears swell in my emerald eyes. They fall but I wipe away the drops of sadness as the trickle down my cheeks fiercely. I try to erase their memory. Whose? I interrogate myself inwardly.

I open the eyes who have resently betrayed me. My cheeks are now stained in streaks of bright, raw pink. Another tear falls. I bring it to my bloodred lips and taste it.

There's my proof.

My humanity.