When she came back to conscousness, unsure of where she was or how much time had passed, the only thing she wanted to do was cry. But whether the tears would actually flow or not would depend on the extent to which her eyes were still there, of course. She could not see, and she could feel the blood on her face, but it was possible they hadn't been fully torn out, at least. Simply destroyed to the point of longer letting her see a damn. But that was barely any concern of her now at all.
There were much more important things occupying her thoughts, and it was because of those things that she was crying to the extent eyes still allowed.
Everyone who cautioned her, yelled at her, mocked her, loved her. They'd *all* been right from the start, all along. It was she who was the fool after all, as it turned out. And she should've listened to them when she still had the chance. Even at her most pessimistic, she had never thought her future would be anywhere close to *this* painful.
No.
It isn't right.
She must not allow things to happen the way she was shown.
What would even be the damned point? She went and walked right back into darkness so she could *earn* the redemption she had convinced herself she didn't deserve, because *he* was still alive. A man she had never even met. And who turned out to be dead, after all.
What a terrible joke it was all turning out to be.
And it was all her own damned fault.
She lay there in the snow and darkness, waiting to die.
