Cold. So cold.
Why was it so cold?
Tears melting snowflakes as they hit her face, she ran out, away, never looking back.
She didn't have to.
But she wished she could.
Instead, she saw what would haunt her until her death.
Those eyes.
She had killed him.
She had killed her brother.
He couldn't be dead.
I killed him, she thought, I killed him.
Joey.
I killed Joey.
Ever since she had removed her bandages, she had seen the world as it was meant to be seen: cold, hard, and heartless.
She had seen too much.
She felt tears flow from her eyes as she remembered the knife in her hand. The one she had used to kill Joey.
She had meant to kill herself.
To stop seeing all the hatred, all the pain, all the bitterness.
She had wanted to end it all. She had tried. Just moments ago, she had tried. Before Joey found her.
He had tried to console her, to tell her that the world wasn't all bad.
He had tried.
Then, she had stabbed him.
She had been so sick of hearing about good. She knew the truth. There wasn't any good left.
No, she prayed, I didn't kill him. I wouldn't. It wasn't me. I couldn't.
But she had.
The look of anguish, of pain, of realization in his eyes had been burned into her mind.
That look reflected everything she felt.
No, she thought bitterly, of what I am.
Nothing. I am nothing.
Tears blurred her vision as the frozen forest grew in front of her. She knelt down, bringing the knife to her wrist.
To end it all.
The pain, the torment.
The confusion.
The visions.
Crimson drops on the snow, falling slowly. Trickling out painfully.
The knife shone black in the snow.
Drops of blood mingled with her tears on her wrist. She screamed.
The thoughts pounded in her head, different and varied.
But she couldn't forget the look in his eyes.
This was the only way she could forget.
This was the only way to end it all.
Why was it so cold?
Tears melting snowflakes as they hit her face, she ran out, away, never looking back.
She didn't have to.
But she wished she could.
Instead, she saw what would haunt her until her death.
Those eyes.
She had killed him.
She had killed her brother.
He couldn't be dead.
I killed him, she thought, I killed him.
Joey.
I killed Joey.
Ever since she had removed her bandages, she had seen the world as it was meant to be seen: cold, hard, and heartless.
She had seen too much.
She felt tears flow from her eyes as she remembered the knife in her hand. The one she had used to kill Joey.
She had meant to kill herself.
To stop seeing all the hatred, all the pain, all the bitterness.
She had wanted to end it all. She had tried. Just moments ago, she had tried. Before Joey found her.
He had tried to console her, to tell her that the world wasn't all bad.
He had tried.
Then, she had stabbed him.
She had been so sick of hearing about good. She knew the truth. There wasn't any good left.
No, she prayed, I didn't kill him. I wouldn't. It wasn't me. I couldn't.
But she had.
The look of anguish, of pain, of realization in his eyes had been burned into her mind.
That look reflected everything she felt.
No, she thought bitterly, of what I am.
Nothing. I am nothing.
Tears blurred her vision as the frozen forest grew in front of her. She knelt down, bringing the knife to her wrist.
To end it all.
The pain, the torment.
The confusion.
The visions.
Crimson drops on the snow, falling slowly. Trickling out painfully.
The knife shone black in the snow.
Drops of blood mingled with her tears on her wrist. She screamed.
The thoughts pounded in her head, different and varied.
But she couldn't forget the look in his eyes.
This was the only way she could forget.
This was the only way to end it all.