Cut
The pain never ceases. It needs somewhere to go. She stabs through the corpse, blood and anger running one and the same onto the street of fire. In saving one, she condemned another. It could reduce a mind to shreds thinking about it. Slice, flick, stab, wrench. Every movement is rash and uncalculated. There is no one in the street any more. For a moment her mind realizes that she was only pretending there was in the beginning, it was all Destruction. She cares not that he left his post, things will continue almost the same as always. The corpse is too ragged to identify anymore. She withdraws her knife and slices her arm now. Adrenaline barely touches the surface. She digs deeper. If he was here, he would at least stop her, ask her why she's devoting her energy to him, but he is gone. And will be. And she can never be.