Laura has never been so grateful for the rain before. The water clears the acrid scent from the earth, making the dark haze retreat from her mind. It cleans the blood from her claws, too. If only everything were that easy to wash away, yet she knows that the memory of this will be just another thing to haunt her.

She killed again. An entire town, razed because of one stupid fucking scent. Innocent people are dead because of her, and she was helpless to stop it. Her breath clouds in the cold air as she kneels in the mud, staring at her hands. Laura didn’t realize how stupid she was to hope that she’d never have to spill blood like this again.

Even as she hears footsteps from behind, she can’t bring herself to look up. Laura doesn’t know how long exactly she’s been sitting here, but it’s long enough for her to be soaked to the bone. It doesn't matter. Nothing matters. She keeps running, but she can't escape her past.

“I'm sorry,” Laura croaks out, her voice painfully hoarse, “I'm so sorry.” Her face is wet, but she can't tell if it's tears or rain. Both, maybe, but is she crying for the dead or crying for herself? The question makes her stomach twist.

The moment that she feels a hand on her shoulder is the moment she can finally tear her eyes away from her hands. Her gaze flickers briefly to the bodies, the sight stirring up sickening memories, before she finally looks back. She’s not sure what expression she expected to be faced with, but the one that she saw still made her chest ache.

Shifting her hands to rest in her lap, claws still unsheathed, Laura struggles to think of something else to say. The only words resting on the tip of her tongue are more useless apologies. They won’t bring anyone that she killed back to life, and it won’t stop her from being what she was made to be. A weapon. A monster. X-23.

As long as the trigger scent exists, that’s all that she can be.