She stared unseeingly at the single leaf of paper in front of her, clutched in her thin, wasted hand. Her gaze was turned towards the window, towards the blue sky outside, yet she was blind; blind to the chirping of the birds and the faint, tinkling sound of children's laughter. She was blind to them all.

Children's laughter. She laughed then too, a harsh, hollow, anguished sound, devoid of joy or any emotion. The paper trembled under her tightening grasp, as her breathing grew harsher, and disturbing images flashed across her mind. Children's laughter....

She had made a terrible decision. Oh, how wrong she was, how idiotic, how gullible she had been... She should have never believed that bastard and his lies...

Children's laughter. She would never be able to claim one of the owners of that unique kind of laughter, an exhilarating and refreshing mix of innocent and mischief, as her own. She would be doomed, damned to suffer the fate of always longing, watching, wanting...but never having.

It was retribution, she was sure of it. It was the Lord's way to punish her for committing the unforgivable sin. The doctor's words echo over and over again in her head, ringing like a death toll.

"You will never be able to conceive again...You will never be able to conceive again...You will never be able to conceive again...You will never..."

"No! No!" She shrieked in a sudden, frenzied display of rage. She crushed the piece of paper in her clenched fist and flung it across the room. "I will...please...I will...I have too...."

Sobbing, she curled into a tiny ball on her bed, turning away from the suddenly garish light pouring into her room, trying to shield, to protect herself from the harsh reality, where people usually fall instead of rise. Trying, to protect herself from the real world, where people stepped over beggars without paying them any heed to get to their destinations. Where backstabbers are common. Where people are homeless or stateless. Where pity has always scarce.

Gradually, the broken sounds coming from her and the heaving of shoulders stopped. She lifted her head, resolution etched on her pale, thin face. Her whole demeanour was changed. She now stood tall, proud; she acted like someone with a purpose. She strode towards her writing desk in the corner of her room, neglected; with a thin, unbroken layer of dust on top.

She grabbed a piece of paper from the drawer underneath and scrawled a few lines across it, tears dripping down on the note once every few seconds, blurring the words to form little droplets of blue. She left them as they were, not bothering to wipe those on her face away as well. "No more...no more..."

She folded the piece of paper, once, twice, and left it there, weighted down by a paper weight he had given to her as a Christmas present last year. Her determined facade slipped for a moment as she allowed herself; in a moment of weakness, to indulge in those memories again.

"I won't! I won't do it! To ask me to take away a life...to actually kill someone... a child... No!"

"Darling, we don't have a choice! We're too young, besides, it's for the best..."

"I thought you loved me!"

"I do! I...do. It's just...neither one of us is up for this kind of responsibility yet, love. A baby, love, a BABY. It would be better for him...or her to stay unborn... Darling, listen to me. It's for the best."

"I..."

"We have no choice, love."

"I...All right. All right."

"Good girl. You know I love you, don't you?"

She closed her eyes as grief, pure and unadulterated, washed over her. It was the last time he had told her he loved her. Not one month later, she had walked in on him...and another girl.

Two weeks later, her gynaecologist had called her up to the clinic and told her that she would be unable to conceive again, due to an infection of her uterus that had left her barren.

Drifting back into the present, tears slipped silently down her face. Her life...was hardly a life. She had no meaning, no purpose, no aim in it. She wasn't living. She was merely existing.

She made her way slowly across the room, up to the window and brushed her hands over it. She pushed it open slowly; the sounds of the city floating up to her. Cars were driving past, the chirping of birds, the bell toll of the school nearby, the carefree laughter of children. Children's laughter...

Without another thought, she swung her body over the window sill and cast herself to the whims of Nature and the Fates.

Remorsefulness and acceptance are beautiful.

Death, sometimes, is also beautiful.

To her, the sky...the trees...the flowers....

They have never looked so beautiful.

To her...

The world...

Had never looked so...

Beautif--

A/N: Do review and tell me what you think of it!