Going through the motions of living – she slept, awoke, took the usual care over her weapons - but something was missing. In its place there was hatred, disgust and anger so deep she could drown.
Everything she touched held a fractured clarity, now. Brighter than bright, but broken. Irreparable.
In the few lucid moments before the dose replenished she could almost taste the freedom like cool rain dousing her rage and then the P30 flooded her veins and the world shattered once more – nothing at the centre but him. Always him.
How slender the line she walked, now.