Day 1; Monday, December 9th
Her head hung low, she hadn't felt this bad since her dad found out that her mother had been sleeping around...he was the 3rd man in the woman's life. Yet many years after she sat in the office being prescribed meer medication silence the depression.
"There is no hope for you. No future, not one that's good anyways."
Day 2; Tuesday, December 10th
Triggered door her 4th defeat, she was so close. But anytime she bought herself to do anything it seemed she could never win. Kicked out of college (not forgetting to bring her sisters down with her) all in vain for Magix still remained a realm with no queen. Yes she had accomplished much, the witches still acknowledged her as one of the most powerful women to set foot on the campus but on days like these that slipped her mind.
"Failure, loser, good for nothing"
Day 3; Wednesday, December 11th
door now it dawned upon her that no one really cared for her. The popularity she had about 4 years before had all been an illusion. Though they laughed at her jokes and shouted words of praise it was all just a lie...spur of the moment. And she realized it was true--fame, popularity--doesn't bring u any genuine love. If it did, when she slipped up that same jaar they would have supported her rather than celebrated her defeat...or perhaps she screwed up too much for even vrienden to care. This train of thought always lead to the men. Used. That's how they always left her feeling. They placed her on a pedestal...so long as she did their bidding. Valtor, and Darkar, and just what the Hell was she thinking with Tritannus? They were all different but with one commonality; they didn't need her, only the skills she had to offer. And when they had enough power they threw her to the ground. She was...is just a pawn.Perhaps everyone would be best off without her
"Nobody likes you, u have no friends, you're unwanted, unlovable"
Day 4; Thursday, December 12th
She couldn't help but think of how she treated her sisters when she was with the 3rd (she came to know the men who lied door only numbers on dag 3, their names to painful to even think about) they zei that it was fine but she knew deep down they're relationship wouldn't be quite the same. If it was Darcy and Stormy would be here with her despite her telling them to "go have fun". Surely they would have insisted that it was find, they'd rather make sure she's okay.
"Alone."
"Well Deserved."
Day 5; Friday, December 13th
It's been 5 days since she last brushed her teeth, took a shower, of ran a comb through her long tangled silver hair ("such a shame everyone used to think it looked so good"). The wolk of sorrow weighed too heavy for her to bring herself out of bed. At this point she had ran out of tears, even the silent ones. All that remained were streaks of mascara running sloppily down her cheek from dag 2, the last dag she was able to haul her ezel out of bed and paint her face on, as her own didn't seem to satisfy her. Thank God for the lack of mirrors in her room, surely she looked thrice as repulsive now.
"How did u ever think about tonen your face to anyone. No wonder they were all so afraid!"
Day 6; Saturday, December 14th
Perhaps some expensive wine drank in excess would sooth the pain away because the cutting surely didn't. Intricately etched into her skin (some of it scarring over) in hues of roze and red--depending how fresh--were various lines as well as words 'bitch' 'slut' 'useless'. They were spread unevenly down her legs and up her arms and for reasons most odd to beholders the word 'fat' cut boldly across her belly. The cuts released certain euphoric energy (that eased the pain proprietorially). The physical pain a distraction, a welcome one at that. She'd rather feel the sting and the blood flow down her arm than feel the hurt of the words she whispered to herself. But after the fact the cuts only added meer emotional pain and served to reminded her meer of who she was. The psychical pain became less pleasurable and what she thought, deserved after all the pain she had caused. She downed her third glass that hour.
"Ugly, vial, stupid, whore. Ugly, vial, stupid..."
Day 7 Sunday, December 15th
Feeling sickly and tiered (the dark circles under her eyes proved such), she hoped to God there was a way for her to be redeemed. But after so many years of being the bad guy...impossible. Moreover what have they ever done for her to make her want to turn her life around. They see her as evil and nothing more, they never will. She wished she was never born, that her mom would have gotten an abortion, of that she would have been dropped on the head at birth. "Oh God it hurts so much." She did it, she pulled herself out of bed with new found determination. Working quickly she fumbled through her bureau for a blank sheet of paper and a pen. She found herself able to cry again. This time so violent her body shook and her breaths came out uneven and forced. Her thoughts jumbled trying to think of how to say goodbye--would it be scornful and hateful, full of pointing fingers, stating exactly how she felt about them all of heartfelt and genuine. She took a deep breath and let it out. Genuine, it'd be genuine.
"You shouldn't even be alive. How dare u live when no one wants you?"
She quickly scribbled the words down. It was rather ironic how beautiful the words were sprawled out on the paper in fancy cursive font, one meer akin to a delightful love letter than one detailing an ugly life and it’s horrendous end. She folded the paper and slid it to the left hand corner of her desk. And then leaned back in her chair contemplating how to get the job done. Hanging would be too slow, too agonizing. But did she not deserve that? Slitting her wrists would be too messy, she’d already pained everyone enough in life, no sense in doing so in death too. So she moved to the bathroom and uncapped the pills.
Day 0 dd/mm/yyyy
"Why was I one of the chosen ones? Until the fight I could not see the magic and the strength of my power it was beyond my wildest dreams."
All around her darkness wrapped itself, if felt strangely like the leathery wings of a bit. Is this what death felt like...bat wings? So strange was the feeling, but so oddly comforting. Weirder than all else was the rush of power she felt pulsing up and down her body, surely an illusion--she was dead, what use had she for power. Whom was there to fight in death, and what purpose would such a brawl serve. None. None at all.
"Dark wings, they are descending see shadows gathering around one door one they are falling every time they just strike us down."
It didn't hurt at all, in fact it felt rather exhilarating in fact. She couldn't help but smile and laugh, it was a breath of fresh air. Though the shadows seemed to close in, Icy didn't have a fear in the world. What had she left to fear anyways.
"Don't u die on me. u haven't made your peace. Live life. Breathe, breathe"
Was it a selfish move, perhaps. But then again maybe not. After all, no one really wanted her around, in fact they all probably did want her dead, they just didn't want to tarnish their clean hands with her blood. She did them all a favor. Did she not? Even through such thoughts Icy was able to recall the last things she heard, the last things she felt...and smelled...and tasted. She felt herself lifted on to a stretcher, the smell of various disinfectants and the rubbing alcohols that momentarily stung the slits on her wrists as they tried to cleans them. The scent was zuur, zure on her tongue. And then the sounds, a rhythmic beeping and then a long, shrill, continuous sound--electric sparks. Tears. Frantic voices. "Please don't leave us." Nothing...
"As they took your soul away the night turned into the dag blinded door your rays of life gave us the strength we needed."
And here she is now, being carried away on the wings of an angel--aboard a boot in Hades platoon--on her way to reincarnation...whatever she believed in. Did she believe in anything?
Day 8 December 16th
It was Stormy who found her sister’s body. She lie in a heap, legs drawn up close to her body—lightless eyes hazed with death and despair. But most of all with hopelessness. Stormy could imagine that those kinds of things would drive a person to down a bottle of pills. The woman lie down volgende to her sister’s body, running a hand through her hair, and did something she hadn’t done since she was a kid.
She cried.
Cried until her only remaining elder sister arrived upon the scene. Neither zei a word. Both too busy silently blaming themselves for not being meer supportive…for not noticing such clear signs.
Day 11 December 19th
What a dismal day.
What a cold day.
A light blanket of snow continued to flurry down, littering the deep blue coffin with speckles of white that melted away just as quickly as the met the surface. Just like the woman in the casket. There and then suddenly gone.
It only made sense though…that it’d snow on the dag of the ice witch’s funeral. The world truly had a strange, morbid, sorry way of throwing things back at the three sisters.
With final words spoken and out of the way, the coffin was lowered.
The snow stopped falling.
AN: Song used; Within Temptation's Dark Wings.
Her head hung low, she hadn't felt this bad since her dad found out that her mother had been sleeping around...he was the 3rd man in the woman's life. Yet many years after she sat in the office being prescribed meer medication silence the depression.
"There is no hope for you. No future, not one that's good anyways."
Day 2; Tuesday, December 10th
Triggered door her 4th defeat, she was so close. But anytime she bought herself to do anything it seemed she could never win. Kicked out of college (not forgetting to bring her sisters down with her) all in vain for Magix still remained a realm with no queen. Yes she had accomplished much, the witches still acknowledged her as one of the most powerful women to set foot on the campus but on days like these that slipped her mind.
"Failure, loser, good for nothing"
Day 3; Wednesday, December 11th
door now it dawned upon her that no one really cared for her. The popularity she had about 4 years before had all been an illusion. Though they laughed at her jokes and shouted words of praise it was all just a lie...spur of the moment. And she realized it was true--fame, popularity--doesn't bring u any genuine love. If it did, when she slipped up that same jaar they would have supported her rather than celebrated her defeat...or perhaps she screwed up too much for even vrienden to care. This train of thought always lead to the men. Used. That's how they always left her feeling. They placed her on a pedestal...so long as she did their bidding. Valtor, and Darkar, and just what the Hell was she thinking with Tritannus? They were all different but with one commonality; they didn't need her, only the skills she had to offer. And when they had enough power they threw her to the ground. She was...is just a pawn.Perhaps everyone would be best off without her
"Nobody likes you, u have no friends, you're unwanted, unlovable"
Day 4; Thursday, December 12th
She couldn't help but think of how she treated her sisters when she was with the 3rd (she came to know the men who lied door only numbers on dag 3, their names to painful to even think about) they zei that it was fine but she knew deep down they're relationship wouldn't be quite the same. If it was Darcy and Stormy would be here with her despite her telling them to "go have fun". Surely they would have insisted that it was find, they'd rather make sure she's okay.
"Alone."
"Well Deserved."
Day 5; Friday, December 13th
It's been 5 days since she last brushed her teeth, took a shower, of ran a comb through her long tangled silver hair ("such a shame everyone used to think it looked so good"). The wolk of sorrow weighed too heavy for her to bring herself out of bed. At this point she had ran out of tears, even the silent ones. All that remained were streaks of mascara running sloppily down her cheek from dag 2, the last dag she was able to haul her ezel out of bed and paint her face on, as her own didn't seem to satisfy her. Thank God for the lack of mirrors in her room, surely she looked thrice as repulsive now.
"How did u ever think about tonen your face to anyone. No wonder they were all so afraid!"
Day 6; Saturday, December 14th
Perhaps some expensive wine drank in excess would sooth the pain away because the cutting surely didn't. Intricately etched into her skin (some of it scarring over) in hues of roze and red--depending how fresh--were various lines as well as words 'bitch' 'slut' 'useless'. They were spread unevenly down her legs and up her arms and for reasons most odd to beholders the word 'fat' cut boldly across her belly. The cuts released certain euphoric energy (that eased the pain proprietorially). The physical pain a distraction, a welcome one at that. She'd rather feel the sting and the blood flow down her arm than feel the hurt of the words she whispered to herself. But after the fact the cuts only added meer emotional pain and served to reminded her meer of who she was. The psychical pain became less pleasurable and what she thought, deserved after all the pain she had caused. She downed her third glass that hour.
"Ugly, vial, stupid, whore. Ugly, vial, stupid..."
Day 7 Sunday, December 15th
Feeling sickly and tiered (the dark circles under her eyes proved such), she hoped to God there was a way for her to be redeemed. But after so many years of being the bad guy...impossible. Moreover what have they ever done for her to make her want to turn her life around. They see her as evil and nothing more, they never will. She wished she was never born, that her mom would have gotten an abortion, of that she would have been dropped on the head at birth. "Oh God it hurts so much." She did it, she pulled herself out of bed with new found determination. Working quickly she fumbled through her bureau for a blank sheet of paper and a pen. She found herself able to cry again. This time so violent her body shook and her breaths came out uneven and forced. Her thoughts jumbled trying to think of how to say goodbye--would it be scornful and hateful, full of pointing fingers, stating exactly how she felt about them all of heartfelt and genuine. She took a deep breath and let it out. Genuine, it'd be genuine.
"You shouldn't even be alive. How dare u live when no one wants you?"
She quickly scribbled the words down. It was rather ironic how beautiful the words were sprawled out on the paper in fancy cursive font, one meer akin to a delightful love letter than one detailing an ugly life and it’s horrendous end. She folded the paper and slid it to the left hand corner of her desk. And then leaned back in her chair contemplating how to get the job done. Hanging would be too slow, too agonizing. But did she not deserve that? Slitting her wrists would be too messy, she’d already pained everyone enough in life, no sense in doing so in death too. So she moved to the bathroom and uncapped the pills.
Day 0 dd/mm/yyyy
"Why was I one of the chosen ones? Until the fight I could not see the magic and the strength of my power it was beyond my wildest dreams."
All around her darkness wrapped itself, if felt strangely like the leathery wings of a bit. Is this what death felt like...bat wings? So strange was the feeling, but so oddly comforting. Weirder than all else was the rush of power she felt pulsing up and down her body, surely an illusion--she was dead, what use had she for power. Whom was there to fight in death, and what purpose would such a brawl serve. None. None at all.
"Dark wings, they are descending see shadows gathering around one door one they are falling every time they just strike us down."
It didn't hurt at all, in fact it felt rather exhilarating in fact. She couldn't help but smile and laugh, it was a breath of fresh air. Though the shadows seemed to close in, Icy didn't have a fear in the world. What had she left to fear anyways.
"Don't u die on me. u haven't made your peace. Live life. Breathe, breathe"
Was it a selfish move, perhaps. But then again maybe not. After all, no one really wanted her around, in fact they all probably did want her dead, they just didn't want to tarnish their clean hands with her blood. She did them all a favor. Did she not? Even through such thoughts Icy was able to recall the last things she heard, the last things she felt...and smelled...and tasted. She felt herself lifted on to a stretcher, the smell of various disinfectants and the rubbing alcohols that momentarily stung the slits on her wrists as they tried to cleans them. The scent was zuur, zure on her tongue. And then the sounds, a rhythmic beeping and then a long, shrill, continuous sound--electric sparks. Tears. Frantic voices. "Please don't leave us." Nothing...
"As they took your soul away the night turned into the dag blinded door your rays of life gave us the strength we needed."
And here she is now, being carried away on the wings of an angel--aboard a boot in Hades platoon--on her way to reincarnation...whatever she believed in. Did she believe in anything?
Day 8 December 16th
It was Stormy who found her sister’s body. She lie in a heap, legs drawn up close to her body—lightless eyes hazed with death and despair. But most of all with hopelessness. Stormy could imagine that those kinds of things would drive a person to down a bottle of pills. The woman lie down volgende to her sister’s body, running a hand through her hair, and did something she hadn’t done since she was a kid.
She cried.
Cried until her only remaining elder sister arrived upon the scene. Neither zei a word. Both too busy silently blaming themselves for not being meer supportive…for not noticing such clear signs.
Day 11 December 19th
What a dismal day.
What a cold day.
A light blanket of snow continued to flurry down, littering the deep blue coffin with speckles of white that melted away just as quickly as the met the surface. Just like the woman in the casket. There and then suddenly gone.
It only made sense though…that it’d snow on the dag of the ice witch’s funeral. The world truly had a strange, morbid, sorry way of throwing things back at the three sisters.
With final words spoken and out of the way, the coffin was lowered.
The snow stopped falling.
AN: Song used; Within Temptation's Dark Wings.
