Cleo is a talented writer without a web page. This is her first fan fiction.
Humanity. She would never understand humanity.
She watched as the blood bubbled up underneath the razor blade. Some part of her mind registered pain, but it was a small concern to her. The pain inside was far greater.
Where had everything changed? Where had it all gone wrong?
Captain Janeway hadn�t spoken to her much once she initiated her relationship with Chakotay. Once Voyager returned to the Alpha Quadrant, Seven supposed she had no need. After her new ship embarked on its mission, any communication ceased.
Chakotay�s interest waned. They broke up. He moved on to a woman younger than Seven-- a 22-year-old cadet. She�d heard Paris call Chakotay a �child molester�.
Tom Paris and B�Elanna Torres went off together. Seven visited them at first, but as time passed, she sensed she was less and less welcome, and the visits ceased.
Harry Kim was promoted. He departed with Captain Janeway. He talked to Seven sporadically, but mostly she seemed a matter of disinterest to him.
Tuvok returned to Vulcan. He was apparently seeking to find himself. He had isolated himself, and spent most days in deep meditation. He did not appreciate the disruption her presence caused him.
The Doctor grew cold, distant. She supposed it had to do with her rejection of him. At the time, it had been somewhat of an aphrodisiac. She had Chakotay, she had the power to turn him down, to see his longing yet turn a cold shoulder to him. However, when her relationship with Chakotay was over, she found herself unable to reestablish a repertoire with the Doctor.
The Wildmans had departed. Samantha and Naomi had minimal contact with Seven. �I hope you understand,� Samantha Wildman had qualified. �I�m trying to wean Naomi off of the Delta Quadrant. It�s a period we want to put behind us.�
If only Neelix had not left. It would be different. Earth was a cold, cold place. Especially for a former drone. She was hated. Hated and feared.
A friend would have told her it was all in her head. Anyone would have told her it was all in her head. Anyone would have told her how much promise she had.
So she sat now, watching life bubble out of her wrists. Her own blood, as red as that of any human�s, flowed to the ground. Her strength was waning. Her life was disappearing with it.
Suddenly, she noticed a communiqu�. Her own blood was falling on it. She must have thrown it to the floor without a glimpse.
It was a job offer. A position at Starfleet Science. Highly coveted.
Seven of Nine felt something she hadn�t felt in a long time: Hope.
Then she wondered what she had been thinking when she�d slashed her wrists. Inefficient; a permanent solution to a temporary problem. I must correct it.
She tried to rise, had no strength. She had lost too much blood.
No... She had no communicator. She had to get help. She�d made a mistake.
She sank to the ground, and her eyes closed involuntarily.
I made a mistake. I made a terrible mistake. And then she thought no more.