Trying To Do the Unimaginable (Closed)

Rain poured down from the cloudy gray sky, turning anything remotely pleasant about RiverClan's territory into a soggy, muddy mess. Most of the Clan was huddled in their dens, staying warm and telling stories with their loved ones, or out on a hunting patrol trying desperately to see any type of prey in the thick haze of falling water. One lone she-cat sat under a skeletal old beech tree, the leaves offering no protection from the storm. Her huddled form was cold and wet, soaked to the bone, her ragged, dripping calico fur clinging limply to her thin frame. She should have been back in camp like the rest of her Clanmates, curling up in her nest in the warriors' den or standing in a tight circle with her family to try and brighten the gloomy day. Except she didn't really have a family. Not anymore. If a family was someone who cared about you, someone who would bring you extra moss for your nest when you were sick or an extra large piece of prey when you were hunting all day, someone who would put their nest right next to yours and tell you that they loved you- Shellwater had no one.

The senior warrior's dull orange eyes stared at nothing, letting the deafening sound of the rain wash over her and try to drown out her thoughts. She wasn't sure why she had come out into the territory- she just knew that every time she saw Otterleap or Splashwillow in camp, her heart shattered all over again. Her life had been one long series of tragedies and losses, with a few false promises of happiness tossed in between. It was like she was some project that only existed for StarClan's cruel amusement. It wasn't enough that she had been disfigured for life as an apprentice, covered in physical and emotional scars that would never fully heal over. It wasn't enough that her childhood crush had led her along, gotten her pregnant, and then abandoned her for another warrior who already had a mate. It was nowhere near enough that all but one of her kits had died. No, none of that had caused her enough pain throughout her lifetime. Apparently, she didn't deserve a single shred of happiness in her unfortunately long life. The two cats she had trusted above all, the two cats she thought really loved her for who she was- they hated her. Otterleap had never loved her. And he had taken away Splashwillow with him. But maybe it was too much to ask to lead a good life. Maybe, she would die soon, and be in StarClan with Snowpaw and Sparkwillow and Blossompaw and Mosspaw and Turtlepaw and her parents- if any of them still loved her, too. She would have sped up the process, would have let herself go into the sweet oblivion that she longed for now above all else- but every time she tried, she remembered. Every time, she remembered Otterleap- his voice, his face, his eyes, his scent, his determination to save her... the way he sounded when he said he loved her. That he wanted her. That she was beautiful. It was all a lie.

So here she sat, alone, wallowing in her own grief and self-pity like the rotten piece of crowfood that she really was. After all, there was nothing else for her to do. She couldn't stand the glares and looks of pity she got in camp. She couldn't see clearly enough to hunt for any food, and no one trusted her to patrol the borders. What reason was there for her to do anything but sit like a wet lump of fur in a muddy puddle of water and misery? No reason at all. Useless as a mewling kit, broken as a twig on the Thunderpath, alone as a pebble hurtling down a rushing stream, she sat there by herself. No one to see her grief, no one to understand, no one to care. But it was probably better that way. The less that RiverClan saw of Shellwater, the happier they would all be. She was just a constant reminder of Otterleap's mistake in taking her for a mate, of all the dead apprentices and warriors that had come from her imperfect bloodline, of everything a strong warrior shouldn't be. Nothing but a stain on RiverClan's good name. She knew how they saw her now.... she just wished that they'd had the heart to tell her earlier, when she had the ability to fix it. If only she had never patrolled the WindClan border that day. If only she hadn't fallen for Sleetfang's sugar-coated promises. If only Otterleap had never saved her from the river. If only. But what was the point of "if only" if nothing could change what she was?

Raindrops pelted Shellwater's face as she tried to figure out where everything went wrong. Strangely, some of them tasted like salt.