Lucky's eyes were closed, but her mind wandered farther than she had ever been on Earth. The weight of betrayal, cruelty, and endless exhaustion had lifted, replaced by a strange, quiet emptiness that felt like freedom.
She remembered everything—the sunlight on her skin, the laughter of strangers, the warmth of hope, and the sting of betrayal. Every memory was a thread in the fabric of her existence, and now, suspended beyond the reach of pain, she could see them all clearly.
The humans she had trusted, the ones who had deceived her, the guards, the world itself—they were all part of a reality she no longer belonged to. She had arrived with innocence, with a desire to connect, to belong, to find warmth in a world she did not fully understand. And yet, she had been broken by it.
But even in this darkness, there was a strange clarity. She understood now the fragility of trust, the weight of hope, the cruel indifference of life. She understood that sometimes, survival did not mean victory, and endurance did not mean happiness.
And yet, she felt a flicker of relief. No longer would she have to fear, no longer would she have to hope and fail. She was beyond the reach of pain, beyond the grasp of cruelty.
"I tried," she whispered to the void, her voice barely more than a sigh. "I really tried. And now… now I am free."
Somewhere beyond the human world, beyond sorrow, beyond the prison walls, beyond betrayal, Lucky drifted into silence. She was no longer the girl who had arrived wide-eyed and trusting; she was something else entirely—resilient, weary, and finally unbound.
The Earth continued to spin, the sun continued to rise, the world continued in its chaos. But Lucky's journey, tragic and brief, remained—a shadow, a whisper, a story of innocence lost, courage tested, and the bittersweet release from a life too cruel to bear.
And in that release, she finally rested.