Johanna was wrong. Well. She was getting-there wrong. It was the truest true that she didn't have anyone for them to kill; but it was that she didn't have anyone left for them to kill.
Once upon a time she did. She had a family and she loved them so much she hated them. They all had these bad habits like chewing with their mouths open; or leaving the back door open when it was cold; or talking in stilted sentences, trailing off and then stopping altogether, conversation over. But they were the kind of habits you found out after an entire life living with them. So now it tears a new scar in her chest when someone chews loudly, obnoxiously still talking.
She loved someone so much she couldn't breathe. And then when he got torn away from her, ripped from her grip, she was drowning in wasted oxygen, so much her chest expanded with every breath until it exploded in a searing burst of pain before the now ever constant numbness set it.


wow okay it's been a while