This was on my rpofile (way back when I had the section called: Possible Stories, or something like that) and I thought I probably wouldn't ever write it.

But then, I had a thought. ...At the dollar store. And well, here we are. ;) This is going to be a twoshot. So watch out for Part 2.
Also, check the soundtrack!
(Located on my profile! :D)

-sxg

In the End
Part One
(Sharpay's POV)

Everyone always says to fight; don't give up hope. It's not as bad as it could have been. Time heals. Just choose life.

But all these years, I've wondered what's around the corner. It just seemed so cliche, so unoriginal to keep pushing forward while your whole world falls apart. There had to be a backside. One that's wonderfully tragic. Choosing to give up, letting the bad guys win. A story of regret and shame, an existence of no hope.

I just wanted to know: what happens if you choose death?

Tears crawled down my face, plopping into the hot bathwater below. Slowly, I let my fingers slip off the sides and splash into the bath too. Then, the last whisper of my strength left me. My head drifted down under the water.

I watched the ripples above me in a romantic, intoxicated silence. Everything down here was quiet and good. I couldn't hear those awful words anymore. I couldn't taste the pollution of my own stabbing words. I couldn't smell the hatred in the room. I couldn't feel my heart anymore.

A drip from the faucet shook the stillness as it fell. My skin was numb. And my back settled against the white porcelain softly. But just when the euphoria was released, a new, overwhelming feeling took its place.

Panic.

I couldn't breathe. A weight was crushing my chest. The silence was suffocating me. And then those murderous thoughts came crashing back, toppling the entire scale.

What happens if you choose death?

I was so terrified. A million bubbles fluttered to the sky as I spurted out the last breath in my lungs. Petrified, I sprang out of the water. But as I did so, I slammed my forehead right into the cutting edge of the faucet; it sliced my skin deeply; a drip of blood clouded the water.

And in that split-second before I went black, I finally heard the answer loud and clear:

Nothing happens.

You die.

[-x-x-x-]

I lost my best friend long before he died.

Ryan and I used to be buddies—we didn't just hang out to rehearse our act in the musical of current. We honestly enjoyed spending time with each other. …Well, I enjoyed his company. With all the fraternizing and scheming I did, I can't be sure he reciprocated that. It did seem as though he didn't mind me terribly. But back then, if I stared hard enough, I could make white look like black, just by ignoring what I didn't want to see.

That evening when I stared at his coffin; when I stared at the other mourners staring right back; when I stared at my broken complexion in the bathroom mirror—I couldn't bring him back. And I couldn't, can never, take back all I've done.

I can never undo the summer I betrayed him. Betrayed the only boy who loved me back half as much I as loved him. Betrayed my only friend. Betrayed my only brother. And after that, our relationship was never the same. We didn't really hang out anymore. We went our separate ways. But what I never told Ryan was that, after he was gone, I had no one left. He was the only good thing about me.

But then he made a career, a new life for himself; and the Evans Twins ceased to exist. It wasn't, "Hey there's Sharpay and Ryan!" It was, "Hey Ryan! Looking good!" Without Ryan, I was nothing. Oh, I pretended I was better off. And that his departure was a breath of relief. But I was lying through my pearly white teeth. Come to think of it, when have I never lied?

I especially remember lying when Ryan won a full-scholarship to Julliard. Not only was I horrible enough to want it for myself, but I also wished it was mine just so Ryan wouldn't forget about me. Just so Ryan couldn't have it. If he was out there, on Broadway, living the dream we used to share, what would become of Sharpay Evans? Where would I end up?

Stuck at U of A.

And despite all the huffing and puffing, and envying and striving—I could not change a thing.

Ryan was everything I wanted to be. And I was nothing like him.