Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from FFVII. –sniff- At least I can say the story's mine.

Prologue

I know what I have done. I have stopped. I have not only stopped eating, sleeping, fulfilling the daily requirements that mark me as a person, a living, breathing woman. I have stopped thinking. This is because thinking hurts. My brain begins to hum as the thought process fires the nerves. My chest tightens, and I cannot breathe; though my eyes are not seeing anything, they start to tear up. I have cried too much—I do not want to cry anymore.

            I have stopped moving. I no longer care what goes on around me. I have stopped feeling, because there is no point to it. Sensations no longer appeal to me. There can be nothing in my sight that makes me happy. There is nothing in the world that can induce joy in me. When I hear voices that are not my own, I do not listen. Words are not for me to hear. My mouth is dry, and I cannot taste. Smells do not register, and I am not capable of opening my eyes; I do not want to see the world.

            I do not want to see the world, because it is ugly. It is cold-hearted. It is cruel. The world has lost my trust, and the levity I once saw in those around me, the hope I once saw in the infinite stars, have all been stolen. They no longer matter to me.

            I am dead. I have no connection with the living, waking world save for my body. I have died, faded away until there was nothing left. Despite my wishes, I was not able to leave myself behind, still possess the terrestrial limits I was born with. My lungs are still inhaling, and my heart still beats beneath my ribs, yet none of these things register. There is nothing that can awaken me.

            I have fallen asleep, sunk below the waves without any intention of resurfacing.

            And I am fine with this.

            I am fine with all of this. Because I am free. I am free from thinking. I am free from dreaming.

            In this new, unexplored land of unconsciousness, I have found that my mother does not haunt me, and the nightmares that have dutifully trailed by my every waking movement are, to say the least gone. I do no have to worry about catching the man who killed my father hiding in the shadows of my own bedroom, and my friends…two lives of the hundreds he stole, no longer stare at me with black, sympathetic eyes.

            I am not reminded constantly that Cloud is dead.

            He is not dead like I am dead. It is not the same thing. He is really dead. His soul has gone. While I am still trapped inside this once-beautiful, no longer lovable frame, he is truly liberated. He is truly free.

            But I will not think about it. I have cried too much. I can sink, now, and leave. No one will miss me. They should be happy. I am dead. I am free.

To be continued…really. I'll try, not matter how long it takes. ~Raine