"HOW..." MY VOICE WAS HOARSE AFTER DISUSE, and it took a couple clears to get my voice to sound right again. "...long was I out?"

"Six days."

Six days. That was more than enough time for Peter to forget and adjust to his new life, receive his praise for taking down a criminal, and then head to school and leave the past behind - he would know by now that I was gone, that was for sure. Would he care? I doubted it.

I licked at dry, bleeding lips and gestured towards the large box in the woman's hands. "What is that for?"

Inga just set it down, almost hesitantly, and knelt down to face me. "They're going to keep you...stable. Among other things."

Her words, while didn't allude to specifics, weren't hard to make sense of; they were meant to hold me still so that when the end came near, I didn't move. Death was always easiest when the victim didn't fight it, and the handcuffs would only help prove that theory correct.

I peeled off of the wall, grimacing as my back screamed with new pain, and set myself so that it wasn't hard for Inga to slide it onto my body. "This is it, then?"

She opened the box and pulled out the same cuffs I vaguely remembered from nights before; as the woman slid them onto my wrists, I took note of the blood that coated the metal, leaving a faint rusty smell that coated the inside of my nose. However, I still didn't resist, even when she put them a size too tight and they dug into my wrists; the pain barely matched the wounds shattering my broken heart.

"What happens to you?"

Inga glanced up at me, hooded eyes searching mine, the usually bright green now lifeless and dull. "I go back home."

Home; Russia, of course, that's what she meant, for there was no other 'true' home for girls and women like us. "Won't...won't you get in trouble? Punished?"

"I already was," she muttered, shutting down my other questions with a few short syllables. As she worked and I bit back my screams of pain, I took note of the scars that laced up her barely exposed back; while I could only see bits of the flesh, I could see that the wounds were done at many different times in her life; some, from the looks of it, barely a week old. "My crime wasn't as severe as yours, and my life meant more to them than yours. You are replaceable enough - hence why they sent a student, not an adult to go through the process much faster. I, however, have some value to them."

"Oh."

She pulled another thing from the chest, but this wasn't another form of torture, not of the physical sort. It was a small picture, and one I recognised well; it was Peter and me, frozen in a candid, sweet kiss, one that we thought was invisible to all but us in the dark gloom of New York. My hand itched to grab it, but in my handcuffs, I could only stare. It was almost torture and I wanted her to pull it away, but all I could do was stare at the perfectly unperfect moment that would never be experienced again. "Where...who took this?"

She frowned and spoke, and I blinked and realised that it was not a picture of us but her empty, lily-white palm offered to help me up. Surely, I was going mad.

"You did the right thing, Freya."

I lifted my gaze to meet her sad one, unsure what to say. "Pardon?"

"You did the right thing - the boy didn't deserve his fate that he could have been given. He will live a good life, too; he thankfully drank it and doesn't remember a thing."

My heart ached at her words, for though it was what I wanted and worked for, it still stung to know my life, my words, my feelings would end up meaning nothing to no one but myself. "Oh."

"You did well."

I didn't look back at her; I couldn't, the pain in me was getting too much to hold in, and a single look at the woman who had made my life hell would immediately break me into the smallest of pieces. Instead, I simply brought my knees to my chest and stared at the cracked, bleeding skin that covered them. "What now?"

"I think you know what now."

I did know what now, I just wanted to hold onto the tiniest fragment of hope that maybe it could all blow over, that maybe she'd leave me to run and I could find Peter and explain and it all and live a happy, joy-filled, normal life. However, such was not the case, and I would be a fool to think it could be.

"Okay." My hands scraped at the walls as I struggled the stand, my movements sluggish and exaggerated in my weakness. My eyes didn't leave Inga's frame, though I still couldn't look at her; I needed to be strong. "Let's go, then."

She, however, held me back and gripped tight to the arm on skin that was somehow unscathed. "I am sorry."

"You did nothing."

"I know that." Inga sighed. "But I am still sorry. If I could have saved your life, I would - but I am not the woman that you are. I am too far gone to have a heart half as good as yours."

"You still have a chance; everyone has a chance to do the right thing. A...he taught me that. If I could, you can - you did!"

But my words didn't mean anything, simply bouncing off her; Inga had made up her mind, and I was left with empty sounds and sentences that did nothing but annoy her. I resigned myself to plodding along behind her, feet dragging at the weight of the chains around them, and tears welling up like the crybaby I was - though, I mused, I had a right in a situation like this one.

The hallways were long and cavernous, echoing our footsteps as if they were the sounds of a thousand men. I focused on my feet, watching them twist and turn as she did, trying to memorise when and where we switched into a new hall - though it would not matter in the end, it gave me something to concentrate on aside from the ever impending doom waiting for me at the end of the journey. 

 "This is it," she announced, slowing to a stop at a large, metal door. No noises sounded from the other end, though I supposed it was designed that way so that no one would know what was happening from the outside. "Are you ready?"

No. I wasn't. Was one ever ready? My breaths grew thick and short, gasps as if each one was going to be my last. I supposed that wasn't far off from the truth. I tried not to think about the action itself, focusing on the good I did somehow, but it was hard when all I could think about was the fact that soon it would all be done and nothing would matter anymore - I wouldn't matter anymore.  

"Okay." I wasn't 'okay', but I didn't want to dwell on this any longer. If this was the way it was, so be it, but I would rather it to be quick then drawn out. "I'm ready."

Before opening the door, however, Inga clasped my shoulders and drew me in for a rough embrace, one especially out of character, and tapped her claws against the small of my back. Her shoulders heaved and I realised that she was in pain as well, though for reasons I was not sure of. "I am sorry."

All of a sudden and before I could mumble out a response, Inga turned and sent her fist flying into the guard's face, immediately sliding to kick at another one. "бег! бег!"

I shuffled away but watched as she took them down single-handedly, unsure where exactly I was headed. "What - what are you doing?!"

She rose and wiped at her face, handing me a small gun stolen from the now unconscious man beneath us. She gestured down the hallway, leading away from the door and the way we had come, walking with light, cautious steps that I followed. "We're doing the right thing, that's what we're doing."

My side ached as we slid through the hallways, but I ignored it and kept my mind on the small sliver of hope that now opened in my mind; I was getting out of here, not dying, but getting a chance to live a life that I wanted. Moreover, it was Inga of all people who was leading me there, taking me to freedom, a sight I never thought would grace my eyes. It took all of me not to speak, but she seemed to warn against it, so I kept my mouth closed and my questions to myself.

She seemed to know exactly where she was going as we walked, and Inga didn't stumble a second as she beckoned me to follow her to a door at the end of a tunnel. "There, we go through there, okay? We have to hurry but there is someone waiting for us, okay?"

It seemed all too easy; we had managed to thwart the guards without even really trying and crept passed like it was a child's game. It didn't make sense, and though I didn't want to question it, doubt joined the hope, mixing into a confused pile of emotions that made it difficult to think. "But-"

"-I promised you I would try to do the right thing, and I had promised myself." Inga glanced behind her. "Come on, we have to go now!"

We ran, but my mind had been right; it was too easy for it to be a successful escape. As we raced to the door, a crowd of masked soldiers appeared seemingly out of thin air and opened fire, making my heart race and thump even more in my heart, like it was going to explode any second over me. Still, we continued, and while Inga sent shots back and showed me where to dive to dodge, I fumbled with handed-over keys, struggling to open the door.

A scream sounded, and all at once my mission had shattered, leaving me to turn and watch in horror as Inga fell to the ground, eyes already glossing over with shock as blood bloomed like poisoned petals over her grey tunic. She shook slightly and though she didn't let any pain show on her carefully put together face, her fingers formed into a loose fist and pressed into the wound, immediately becoming stained with red. She fought to stand, to take the bullets flying towards us every which way, but each attempt and success left her more and more broken, and eventually, she had to succumb to the pain ripping through her body.

"No, no, no - no!" No coherent sentence came together as I fell to my knees, and I could only chant the same syllable under my breath as I examined her wound, my breath now matching her short, shallow gasps, though for very different reasons. "No, no, no, no no no!"

"Go..." she hissed, her right-hand slapping at my face, though it was more of a slight pat than a blow - she was losing strength fast, and soon her hand fell back to her side, trembling as pain racked her body. "Go. Go!"

Though she urged me through coughs and tiny, almost unnoticeable whimpers, I couldn't move; it was like I was glued to her side, frozen in horror as she died before my eyes. This was Inga, the one woman who had seemed invincible throughout everything. She hadn't even appeared to have a single scratch in her lifetime, and yet I stood over her while she bled out, suddenly mourning the woman who had made me hurt over and over again to a point of no return. She had been the main villain in my life for so long, too long, yet now, she was helpless, having just sacrificed her own life to save mine - an act of kindness I could never expect and, also, never return.

Inga's finger latched onto my hand one last time, and her eyes turned slightly as the sound of footsteps raced closer; time was running out, and shots were being fired, leaving me to bend closer and hold tightly to the woman. "Go-"

- there was no point, for, in seconds, my flesh had erupted in a fiery pain I could only associate with a wound created by a bullet; my torso screamed and cried tears of blood onto open flesh, and I felt my own body seize up and contort with no way of controlling the movements. My lips parted and closed several times over; words fought to be spoken, yet nothing but moans of sudden pain came out, leaving me to shake and fall in silence to the cold pavement the two of us just walked upon in hopes of freedom.

The weak cries of Inga sounded, and though I was fading in and out of consciousness, I heard her words as though it was a pool of water; something about a future, and about a mother, and about things I could barely understand or identify. I tried to respond, but all that came out was a loud whimper and intelligible sounds that couldn't connect into words if I paid a million dollars.

Two hands grabbed my arms and began to drag, and though I kicked with all the strength left in my quickly failing body, there was no point; I was nothing but a fragment of a shell, now, and they were soldiers twice my size and physique and with no wounds or blemishes to speak of. My body fell limp, and the sweet song of night began to call to me, urging me to shut my eyes and give into the waves of pain racing up and down my failing corpse.

Through one last struggle, I pried my eyes open and stared at the hallway inching away as I was pulled; a train of blood, like a twisted path, followed the movements and led back to the small door I once stood at, believing that life was an option at me. Right beside it lay a still figure, blood snaking up the once spotless clothes, not moving a muscle. I didn't know why no one went to pick the corpse up, but I couldn't wrap my mind around it, not in my state; all I could think or feel was a distant flicker of remorse, like it was trying to make me care but I was too empty and dead to hold onto it. 

That was the last time I saw Inga, and as I faded into the darkness, I realised that I didn't even know her last name.

Is this a happier ending? Ha, no, but hey, it shows a little bit more of Inga, which I like. I have a love/hate relationship with her, gotta admit - I hate what she did (what I made her do) to Freya obviously, but she did have a heart, she just didn't know how to do the right thing. In this, it shows that she did try, and even if it didn't come to any good, she was a good person. I dunno; this was originally going to be the end, but I felt it to be a bit too much, so it's an alternate. It's also weak writing and not as well edited - again why I went with the other one - but essentially, it was to prove her importance despite it all. Once this is done, there will be more information about her backstory in my meet the oc's book, if you're curious to learn about Inga, but for now this is what we got :)

Please keep in mind that since these are alternates, they're not as well written as the original ending, so please don't hate on me if this isn't top quality [ha lies is anything I wrote top quality].

Thank you for reading, two more alternates to go! [although someone suggested another one and hot damn it was so so neat, I'm tempted to write it out]. I really need to let go of this story, I swear - I just can't, it holds such a special part in my heart.