Disclaimer: I own nothing.
I.
ashen
It's gone.
Her fingertips are still throbbing; warm and tinged with reddish burns. She wants to cry.
[And she is].
Ringo was determined to put everything she had into protecting that diary ― and within just a few moments, it was all taken away. And now what? How can she save her? How can she save them? Both halves destroyed before her eyes, vision slowly losing clarity as the seconds passed. This is her fault.
Her limbs feel heavy and she relaxes against the asphalt. It's a little hard to move.
The pile of ash mocks her.
She closes her eyes.