She gets the same dream every night.
Blood dripping from his skin onto hers (he's innocent, you see, he didn't deserve a life like this), the pale yellow eyes gleaming in the moonlight; the howling of the moon, the howling of those she couldn't save. Didn't save. Ran by, didn't care about. They weren't important back then, but now, they seem more important than ever. She left them behind - how could she do that? Heartless of her.
Perhaps making a deal with the devil wasn't the worst thing she had ever done.