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.

"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?


Yup, this was an alternate ending to Seven Below. In fact it's the original ending. I was going to make her suicide a success, but went with the happier ending last minute, and I kind of wanted to post the other version. That in mind, (and for the sake of me fearing I'm gonna get in trouble for 'encouraging suicide') that's not what I'm trying to do here. In fact that's the last way I think one should solve their problems.