The End of All Things (Closed)

What do you do when you have nothing to live for, but so much to die for? What do you do when the only way to stop destroying what you love is to leave it forever? What do you do when everything you do would ever do anything other than cause grief? There was only one answer. You leave. What do you do when leaving would be endless torture, but you cannot stay? What do you do when you can't survive alone, but you can't survive in a group either? What do you do when there is nowhere you can be happy? There is no simple answer. But Curlyfeather found one. You die.
Curlyfeather had not stopped sprinting since she left camp. This was a path she had followed before, at an earlier part of her life she had despised. Her first time meeting Sharptooth. Now was not like then. Back then she had thought embarrassment and weakness was the worst possible thing. That occasional spells of deafness was the end of the world. Now she knew there was far more to life than that. Family. Friendships. Purpose. After being deaf for so many moons, that no longer was the main issue. Of course it had been terrible, but it was only the beginning of the end. Since then, she had allowed herself to fall down further and further each day. Then she let herself regain hope, climb back onto her paws. Just to be swept off her feet again and end up back in the mud. Now she had stopped being useless to her clan. She had begun dragging them down with her. While scrambling to get a pawhold, she only dragged her those who believe in her down as well, instead of allowing them to pull her up. And it was all her fault. Defensive. Paranoid. Insecure. Stubborn. Bitter. Irritable. Deaf. Weak. All those words described the part of her everyone saw. The part she saw. After a while, she had started wondering if that was the only part. Failure over and over again wasn't the worst, it was only because it ruined other cat's happiness with her weakness. But then she always had to defend it, using arguments she knew weren't true. Because she wasn't stable enough to let herself live in peace. So many cats believed in her, but she kept letting them down. It wasn't fair to them. It wasn't fair to herself. She had dreamed of birds mocking her, turning her into an evil creation doomed to rot in the Dark Forest. Now she realized how close she was coming to becoming that. She had to stop that from happening, whatever the cost. Saving her clan was worth the sacrifice, even if she was saving them from herself. This just would never work. It would never be okay. Always, she would ruin everything for everyone she loved. Now it was going to end. Forever.
Curlyfeather stopped sprinting. The Thunderpath was directly in front of her, the acrid smell of monsters surrounding her. But right then, she couldn't care less. Finally, she was going to end this. She would be happy, the clan would be happier. They would all be free. Just why did it take this to make it be that way. A monster whizzed by, flattening the fur on her back. Once she did this, there was no coming back. Because death was irreversible. Taking another step closer, she tried to push out all doubt, all sadness. Mentally, she said goodbye to Cedarstorm, Crowfur, and Scorchfang. While she wished she could tell them in person, they would try to stop her from doing this. And she couldn't allow that. It was time to say hello to Daypaw and Lilacfall, and the parents she had never met. As an apprentice she had been terrified of the notion of death. Now she accepted it was open paws. If only there was a way to reassure her family that it was okay. That this would finally allow everyone to be happy. Taking another step forward, her front paws were on the Thunderpath, the hard black surface burning her pads. Another monster zoomed by, but she didn't flinch. No longer was she scared on them. After all, why should one be scared when they know they are about to die anyway? Especially if they know that their death would be for the good of the clan. Because she knew how horrible of a mistake she had made, and then that realization had led her to make and even more drastic one. She had wounded a clanmate because they asked her an acceptable question that she just didn't want to answer. Before long she would become even more like that, nothing but an insecure and stubborn warrior who couldn't see clearly through her blind anger. So she had to stop herself before it was too late. Even if it meant ending her life in this world forever. Oh how she wished there was a way to do that without making her loved ones sad, and so that she could still be with them. But there wasn't. Another step onto the Thunderpath. Then another. Then she was in the middle. Her last chance to turn back. Never again could she change the decision she made at that moment. And she made the decision to stay. This was what she deserved. It was for the greater good. Finally, everyone could be at peace without her being in the way. And everything would be how it should have always been. The black stone beneath her paws began to rumble. A dull roar sounded in the distance, slowly growing louder and louder. Bright lights suddenly illuminated the path, and the monster was in view.
It came closer.
And closer.
This was what Curlyfeather wanted. She was sure of it. Then why did fear grasp her and doubt plagued her every thought? If she really wanted to dies, then why was her instict to live kicking in? All this time she had been thinking this was for the best, but now she was getting metal images of Cedarstorm crying over her dead body. No, nothing that could make her loved ones suffer that much could be good. No matter what she had convinced herself of before. Besides, when death was this close, she realized something. She didn't want to die. Her instincts must be telling her that for a reason. Fear filling her entire body, she lunged for safety, praying to StarClan that they would save her. And she was so lose to making it. Her front paws landed safely, but suddenly force unlike anything she had ever experienced before his her hind leg, sending her flying. Landing on the grass, she stared in shock at the huge wound on her flank, wondering why it wasn't hurting. Right as she was beggining to think she had gone crazy, the pain kicked in, filling her entire body with fiery agony. And by some merciful will of StarClan, she passed out.

Curlyfeather woke up to black all around here. Where in StarClan's name was she? That's when she heard the sound. Pawsteps. She was dreaming. Spinning around, she saw another version of herself standing there, looking at her with an expression of pity. Usually she would hate seeing that with a fiery rage, but she had gone through way too much that day to care. All she realized is that the other version of her wasn't the evil one, which she was happy about. Maybe death wasn't the only way to get rid of that version of herself. Just possibly, admitting what she did wrong would do that. Seeing what she would to to save everyone could stop her from destroying everyone. No longer would she fear that what she did would ruin everyone's lives. For once, she would just live happily next to Cedarstorm and all of her friends. Perhaps she could finally stop hiding and just be free.
"Do you want to die?" The other version of Curlyfeather asked her, as if asking her a much simpler question. A few minutes ago she wouldn't have known how to respond. The moment she heard it spoke out loud she knew how horrible of an idea it sounded. Of course death wouldn't fix anything! It would just kill her. So now she shook her head, not able to speak as she looked up at the cat only she knew. Herself. Finally, the cat on the inside matched the cat on the outside. Finally, she could be more than just what she did wrong. Living in peace would be much better than dying in fear. Hopefully she would be able to. "Good." While the other version of her said but one word, she felt joy rise up inside of her. No longer did her mind conflict against itself over and over again. Finally, peace was within reach. Holding up her paw, she remembered how it had slashed through Froststone's fur just that morning. Now she didn't have to be that way ever again. A clouded mind caused violence. A clear one could find peace. The other version on her faded from view, and everything was black.

Curlyfeather woke up with a surge of pain, lying in a pool of blood. Oh no, she was going to die. The gash of her leg had opened more, and she felt the energy draining out of her. Trying to stand up, she could barely move her paws and it still hurt like the Dark Forest.  But she couldn't die here! She had finally reached peace of mind, and this was how she was getting repaid? By slowly bleeding out next to the Thunderpath all alone? Nothing could save her now. Still, she refused to give up. Happiness had been within a paw's reach, so she was going to reach for it even as it grew further way. "Help!" Hopefully the cry was loud enough to get some cat's attention. All she really wanted was to not be alone when she died. At least then she could tell them to say goodbye to her family for her. But somehow being saved s she would live would be even better. And there was not a chancethat she was giving up now. "Help!"

Having been on his usual evening border patrol, Mudfoot's ears perked when the sound of a cat's terrified yowls hit his ears. Following the sound, he soon picked up the scent of blood among the strong smells of the Thunderpath, and upon reaching the black path, he spotted Curlyfeather on the path. Rushing over to her, he grabbed her scruff and dragged her off the path before any more monsters came by.

Letting her go when the pair was safe on the edge of the horrid smelling path, Mudfoot looked the she-cat up and down to assess her wounds. "What happened?" the older warrior mewed, trying to contain his growing panic at the sudden situation.

"Mudfoot!" Curlyfeather's voice hadn't contained that much relief since becoming deaf. Finally, here was a chance to be able to survive this. As Mudfoot dragged her further from the Thunderpath, she couldn't help but hope that he could actually get her in camp in time for her to be saved. Oh StarClan, please let that happen. Because if she died here after all she had been through, it would just prove how horrible unfair everything in the world was. Realizing that they had stopped, she looked up at the tom's face in confusion. Panic and confusion seemed to be most prominent, and she tried to understand what he was saying. Though the pain in her leg made it extremely difficult to focus, she could tell it was a question starting with the word what. Probably asking what had happened to her. Even in her pained condition, she couldn't help but still feel a bit irritated. Was that the actually important question at the moment? "I got hit. Can you please take me back to camp?" Hopefully the touch of bitterness in her voice was hidden by the relief that she had be found. Dying alone seemed awful, and she had no idea why she had let herself think it was a good idea just a little while earlier. Depression and insecurity could be terrible, especially when she refused to admit she had them. And thought that she was just naturally a monster was a better explanation.

Looking down at her leg, it pained Mudfoot to see something like this happen to a cat. Those monsters were so cruel and dangerous, and it was a real shame that ShadowClan was burdened with having to be fearful of the Thunderpath. But, pushing his thoughts aside, the large tom nodded quickly at her request. "Of course," he mewed worriedly.

Grabbing onto the she-cat's scruff once more, the senior warrior began to drag his clanmate back towards camp. While he wanted to rush back, he made sure to be careful of her injured leg, not wanting to put her in any more pain. 'Oh StarClan, please heal her wounds,' he prayed silently to himself as the two made their way away from the dangers of the path.