This place I am in now is Hell. It must be. It is everything I ever wanted. It is everything that I felt to want. The purest white snow, with no shadows to disturb the absolute white blanket that lies before me. It is soft, and cool, instead of frigid against my skin. There is a small lake, but the top is frozen over. It looks thick enough to walk on.

It is everything I could have ever wanted. It seems the purest place I have ever seen. So I know that I do not belong. And yet…I am here. And the place calls to me. Every small, soft, falling snowflake beckons me to stay. And there is a feeling of belonging within me. Even though I know I shouldn't be here, I feel as though I should. I head into the Hell, anyway.

I walk through the snow, it isn't too deep, and I can barely feel it on my legs. It is though I was burning. I fall and make an impression in the perfect snow. The burning in my chest is relieved. The pain there is replaced with a strange sensation. A sensation of…belonging again. I look into the falling snowflakes, and am disgusted with myself. I have ruined the perfection of the snow. I stand quickly and look at what I have marred in the perfection of the blanket. But there is no impression. There is no indentation of where I had fallen. I was simply a small thorn, stuck in the fibers, and now that I have freed myself there is no evidence I was there.

I breathe out a sigh of relief, that I am not the cause of such a terrible crime, to destroy perfection.

And though it remains perfect, it remains Hell, too. I know I deserve to be damned, but did my fate have to be so terrible? And though I have found that I know I should be here, and the pain in my chest is relieved, the pain I feel inside cannot be soothed by this snow. I should be happy. That I was granted such a place to be tortured. That I should have a place I could find a small amount of solace when I sleep if when I am waking I should feel unbearable pain. And there is nothing I can do.

I move further on, and wander for a while longer in the snow, and I consider sleeping. I'm not tired, feel as though I will never be tired, and I know sleep will come, anyway. I wonder further, past the lake. And I see a small hut. I remember this place. It was a place that I had known before, and I had happy memories here. It was the best place in the world to be for that short time. I think about going inside, but I know I shouldn't. As soon as I left that place, I knew it would be as though it never existed for me.

The sight of this hut that I remember makes me think back to better times. And I can remember times where I was happy. I then I think about how happy I was to be loved by a family. Then I remember how happy I was just to be recognized. I remember how happy I was for fighting for another's dream, my dream.

And I cry. I walk to the lake, on the lake, the tears spilling from my eyes. I shouldn't feel this way. I remember what happened, and I know I did what I wanted. It was the one thing I wished to do. And I would do it again. It was the only thing I could offer after that point. There would have been no reason for me to live otherwise. I was of use to him one last time.

And I keep crying. He is not here, no one is here, and I know he never will be. And if something does happen, he will not choose to come to me. He will find a place where he belongs, and he will be happy. And so I smile a sad smile. I smile because if he is happy then I can be happy. And this place still seems like Hell, but at least it is more pleasant then any Hell that people scare others into thinking Hell is.

I stay where I am for a long time. Or at least it seems to be a long time. The sun doesn't change position, and it makes me think that no time has passed. And then I remember once again where I am, and how the Sun probably doesn't move. I wallow in my self-pity; I am ashamed for feeling this way, but too close to drowning in it that there is nothing I can do.

I focus on what I can hear. If I look at what is around me, I will only be reminded of the hell I'm in. But I do not hear anything. Even if there could be the sound of something, it would be muffled by the snow. Words cannot be muffled by snow, though. And I hear something, and I recognized who must have said it.

"Haku…"

Well, that's all, I assume you can all tell who the end is. Sorry to those of you thought it sucked, it is after all only my second attempt at fanfiction.