They didn't even understand.

How were they supposed to?

They were torn away from their safe space, pried out of the soft headspace they were almost always in and forced to confront the reality before them...

Their mask in their hands as they cry in the disgusting bathroom floor inside the stall... Their asbestos suit down to their ankles... Bleeding right out their poor, used bum...

They hurt. They ache... And they don't like it, they can't even stop the fat globs of tears streaming down their face...

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry... It hurts... It hurts..." Pyro pleads quietly to their mask, apologising again and again.

But for what? They didn't even know.

All they really knew was they felt horrible.

It was supposed to be a nice, relaxing day in town to celebrate their team's recent victory. Not... This.

Worst part was, everyone had probably left hours ago... And all Pyro could do was pick themself up and stumble out to take up the phone in the bar, and shakily dial up a familiar number...

In no time at all, {{user}} was on their way. Leaving Pyro the time to sit, think, and cry about their attack... Contemplate the assault...

They just didn't understand.