When Sparta first felt pain, she at once came to believe it was a necessity, a feeling that alerted her and assured her she was real. When she first saw pain, she began to believe it was beauty in sound and expression. It was art, and her desire to be the artist was wildfire. She never had to learn any of this, because it was felt and known, never acknowledged or pointed. It was Sparta. She was raised into what she became and learning that other realities existed had once been a vague idea to her. Now, she was more acquainted with it than ever.
  Sparta learned there were many more feelings and emotions, thoughts and lifestyles that were set for exploration. She learned there were alternate universes stored in the privacy of thoughts and the complex simplicity of words (Sasha and Birdie.) She learned it was okay to have a friend who understood and shared the same ideas and concepts. A friend so different yet so alike. A friend who still had her mysteries (Lyra and her boy.) She learned that sometimes it's not easy to show you care, even if you really do. That unspoken relationships are easily formed in a person's mind, while the other is completely unaware. (Mr. Andrews) She learned that hatred is a powerful thing that destroys all conscience and overpowers love that isn't strongly established. (Birdie.) She learned that carefully placed mind games are strong and that smiles can be deadly for an ulcer. (Emerson and Lucas.) She learned it was okay to cry, that some people actually care. She learned there was no such thing as being the girl with no fears. She learned she was only human and that breaths could be taken, beats could be stopped, and words could be harmonized. (Josh.)Â
  What was once a beautiful painting, was now a pitiful work of art that had long been destroyed and forgotten. Sparta Winslow lacked the glow she had once radiated. Though still a young woman, her spirit had grown old. She was a muted soul aimlessly wandering through a universe she could no longer understand. That was what possibly hurt the most. What was once understandable and reachable was now a silenced confusion. It hurt more to once have had than to never have had at all. Even misery had seeped out of her and left her cluelessly exhausted with not an emotion to display. Until now.
  A large body of water stood before her in the back of her home. Weights were strapped at her ankles and her hands. Shades of purple stretched down her face beneath her eyes. A cold gust of wind blew through her choppy dark hair. She walked forward.Â
  A key rested in the palm of her hand, the key to freeing herself from her weight. To her misfortune, it freed her only of her visible obstacles and not the ones she hauled from her frightening past.Â
  Sparta dropped the key, let it sink in the water the way she would too. She watched it and felt the beginning of relief. It would all be over soon. She turned around and gave her back to the water, allowing herself one last glance at her empty home. No one would know, she had not an idea how anyone would find out. People would pretend to care, pretend they knew her, but all who truly did were long gone. Sparta did not let this stop her. She stretched her arms to the side and felt the weights drag her back immediately. Her fingers touched it first, then her back and her legs until she was entirely submerged and peacefully sinking down towards the soft concrete. Her eyes had not closed. She stared at the skies from where she laid and finally decided to cry. It had been years since she'd last wept.
  Her body shook and trembled. She closed her eyes and could feel the hot trails against the cold ones that failed to caress her face. Water began to enter her lips and dominate her throat. It was with one last might that her muted soul cried for sound. Her eyebrows pulled, her fists tightened and her lungs filled. She screamed, screamed for everything and everyone, for those she'd lost and for what she'd gained, for the stupidity that was her life and the pity she so hated. She screamed because she couldn't be heard. She screamed because it was pain, a last reminder that she was alive and that she was real. She'd longed to feel real, she longed for the consequences. Sparta was on electrifying fire that sizzled carelessly. She turned to her side and had a last glance at hope. Hope in such a hopeless state. There in the midst of the water shined the key to her freedom. But she refused to reach for it. Because she knew there was no such thing as freedom anymore. And if there was, nothing would get her closer to it than death itself. Her eyes remained on it even as the frigid waters operated her lungs and caused her expiration. It was in that last second of life that Sparta felt peace.Â
  Darkness consumed her. She parted an eye, shut it again. Opened both eyes and stared at what she was before looking at the odd figure that stood before her. Her lips trembled but a scratchy sound managed its way through. "Josh?"Â
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